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She Who Walks

It appears I've always been a walker. I was never really an 'active' child, but for the most pART of my childhood, I've been walking. Even after tertiary education demanded that I re-locate for a short three years, my shoe soles became no stranger to the narrow and gravel main roads that led to my destinations. While I was in Primary School, I'd walk from my Gran's on Fridays to my Mom's, then back on Sundays; this happened almost every weekend. The distance was about 9,3km. It was no hassle, really. As I grew up though, things changed. I got to a stage where I could walk on my own, until I was pumped with fear. I'm in this unpleasant nostalgic mood relating this pART of my life because, as I was going through my Facebook today, I came across a personal story that ignited the anger that's been trying to 'excuse and justify' the status quo. Ma, I call her. She's Vuyokazi Dejavu Tafari Ngemntu - my Literary Spirit Mother.




"The ghetto will humble the shit out of you, with your b.s about being 'highly favoured'." That's her opening statement. Fast forward to why I'm writing this, she was almost mugged when her graciousness was mistaken for weakness because you know, she's a womxn. She screamed her lungs out for what could have been her last breathe when a 'brother' asking for R2 switched into his 'panga-demanding-mode', and she further relates on how she was just a minute from home. Late at night, sure, that doesn't give nobody a right to want to rattle her and shake her life like that? That's where I come in. I can no longer walk as I used to because, if a 'brother' isn't apparently waiting to rape me in the nearby woods, another is waiting to take one of my possessions - cellphone, handbag, my R2? I can't take a walk after sunset in my OWN neighbourhood because, I'd be 'ASKING FOR IT'. I can only go buy bread when the Sun feels like it's looking to make an oven out of the ground I walk on. My morning jogs have been tempered with because the Winter Sun rises at about 06:42, and before that it's dark as hell outside that going for a run would probably be 'ASKING FOR IT'. See, I'm mad as hell. I'm mad because a womxn needs a man in order to be safe in these ghetto streets. I'm mad because my walks have to 'accomodate' society and the status quo, go in the direction that's acceptable - lead Self not into temptation? I'm even more angry because it's the 'brothers' in our streets that threaten our lives. It's in these rural streets that you have to learn to live in fear in order to stay safe. I cannot contain myself when my being womxn means that I have to live in constant fear. For the longest time, I've been trying to fight this 'norm'. I've been refusing in words and actions, to not walk these streets because there might be a shadow lurking in the dark thinking that because what dangles between its legs is more visible than what's between mine, it has a right to rob me of my womxn. I refuse. Yet, sometimes I can't leave the house after dark. I can't jog before the Sun watches over me. Still, I refuse.


I do not want to live to see the Future witness and live in this very same fear. I REFUSE TO ACCEPT THE STATUS QUO.


#ForMaAndAThousandMoreWomxnWithUntoldStories

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