Limpopo Short Story

“Lean On Me When You’re Not Strong”

            “Lean on me when you’re not strong;” that’s the most comforting words on the planet. Considering the way I grew up, I’ve never experienced a mere part of that saying.

            Hello, my name is Portia Pontso Tsherane. I was born on September 1, 1996 at Venda. As a young girl I didn’t receive true love from my parents. I grew up in many different families with difficult situations. I thought that growing up without a parent I was nothing in this world.

            My mom came from a Christian family in which, her father was a bishop of the Old Apostolic Church of United and her mother came from the Royal Family of Haleshiba. My mother was from a village called Tshirolwe at Venda. She is strong and has done a lot to bring a family together. My father worked at Tshikondeni Mine. He is strong and powerful, peaceful in his undefeat. But after some years when my brother was born, my father got arrested and he went to jail at Matlashe near Thohoyandou. When my mother was pregnant with me, my father was still in jail.

I never went to church, but other children my age were going to church. For me it was very painful not going to church. I started school in 2002, when I was six years old at Mutititi Primary School. Since school was at the top of the mountain we had to pass the village graves on our way there. We had to cross a small river. At the time I was so scared that I wasn’t going to make any friends. I thought I was going to be alone the whole day, but as a young girl I never let myself down.

When my father returned from jail I was in grade 1. He told my mother to come and stay with him at the end of the year. We moved to Indermark in 2003. I was so bored. I asked myself, “How am I going to start a new life?” It was so hard for me to move from my village to another.

When we arrived at Indermark it was so different from Venda. The one thing that frustrated me was the abundance of cows and donkeys in the streets, people fetching water from the river, and the loud noises. On the other hand, Venda was located on a big mountain in the quiet of nature.

The 25^th of December, Christmas Day, was great. My mother cooked food for the family and put everything on the table in hopes for the best. Everyone in the family was happy except me, because at Venda during Christmas time we go to Church to celebrate Jesus Christ. At Indermark, people drink and walk on the streets the whole day. There was nothing I could do, since Indermark is different from Venda.

New Years and Christmas was over and the time to go to school was coming. I began Grade 2 in 2004. I did have fun with other kids on the street though. When school opened, my mother chose a beautiful school for me called Boikhutso. In the morning, my mother prepared everything for my first day at Boikhutso Primary School. I was so scared and afraid. I kept thinking, “How am I going to start a new life in a new school?” However, my brother and I had a great day. I met some of the learners. My brother was in grade 4a. The principle of the school was Mr. Rangata. My problem was that I couldn’t speak or write proper Sepedi. I was afraid that at the end of they year I was going to fail. Through the whole year I tried my best and eventually made it. My report card had good results.

Several years have passed and now I am 10 years old. it is December 24^th 2006 Christmas Eve. It was morning and my parents were watching television it was raining and my brothers and sister were playing outside. I asked my parents for money to buy a pair of All Star tennis shoes; but, they refused and said they did not have the money. I wanted a pair of All Stars because my friend had them. It was Christmas time and I was feeling sad that I didn’t get what I wanted. My parents didn’t even buy me clothes even thougher they bought my brothers some. There was nothing I could do as a born free generation. I thought maybe its due to an equality or poverty.

In 2008, my friend moved to Mphukaneng Primary School. It was a long distance from Boikhutso Primary School. She moved because she was afraid of a teacher. The way that we used to be and what we did was different from others. We shared pocket money, one school bag, food, and clothes. Everything that we had, we were sharing. Sometimes her grandmother would let her stay at my home, or I would even go and stay with her. Through our hard relationship, I felt like I was a loser. But there was nothing that I could do. I joined other groups of children, but it wouldn’t help me be the same as I was with my old friend.

My younger brother and I were playing with water, when mother came. She never asked what we were doing; she just started to beat me. I turned back and ran holding scissors in my hands. I threw it at my mother and it stabbed her in the leg. The blood ran in rivulets down her leg. She never talked to me. She told my younger brother to go and call my father. I thought to myself, “What have I done?” My father came and ignored me, taking my mother to the hospital. I stood there until they came back. My father found me standing in the front door, he slapped me with his big hand, and I fell like I was in another world. I did cry. He pushed me inside the house and started to beat me. After some hours they started to tell people what had happened. My mom was outside and I was in the house. The whole family started to know that I had committed a crime. I apologized.         

In 2009, I went to Venda and never came back. I stayed there with my grandmother the whole year. I was in grade 7. My grandmother treated me well rather than my parents, because she loved me and I took care of her. She gave me pocket money, when I went to school. I was well loved by everybody, especially the teachers, the principal Mrs. Mphanlele. I love going to church, as I am a good child. I was good at participating in school. I like running and playing netball. Out of all the children at school the principal made me organize her office, as she trusts me.

In 2010, my father and mother went to Mpumalanga to look for jobs.  My younger brother and I stayed with my older brother. Now I started to see the view of the world in a different way. I joined other groups of girls. I started to change my lifestyle. As my parents were not at home I started to go to clubs, drink beer, and smoke. I started having sex with boys who were older than me. Everybody started to know, that if you go to that girl, she is free. She doesn’t care.  She can give you whatever you want. She can’t complain, especially if you want to have sex. She is free. These were the thoughts that entered my head daily. Therefore,  “There’s no one who owns me.” I felt like a grown woman because I had the responsibility of cooking for my young brother and sisters. When my parents returned back home I corrected my behavior. I started to be the girl that I was before my parents went to Mpumalanga.

In 2011, I was in grade 9. I was fifteen years old. I found other friends. I started to be a cool girl. I stayed away from boys. At that time things were better than before.

On a Saturday, I was walking along the street during the day to meet my school class friend to do homework. Unfortunately, I met a boy and he distracted me.  It was the first time I saw his face. He said, “Stop.” I stopped. He told me that he loved me and he wanted to sleep with me. I refused. He started to beat me with his hands. I never cried. He used his shoes and beat me. At that time there were no people on the street. When he left me, I went home and didn’t tell anyone that a boy beat me. The following Monday I saw that boy again at school. The next week I heard people saying that the boy had been arrested for rape and murder. At the end of 2012, they told me that my grandmother was ok. I visited her and ended up never going back. I stayed there with her.

In grade 10 I started to see the importance of school. I choose the history stream as I like it very much and I like politics. I met some of the learners that I went to school with when I was in grade 7 at Mutititi Primary School. I want to finish my education while I am young so I can get a better job when I finish school.

When I am in Venda where my grandmother lives I realize that things never change. We continued to go to church. When I am in Venda the terrible memories start to make me feel sad about my best friend. She went to a party and never came back. They looked for her and the following month, they found her dead. Parts of her body were no longer normal. One breast, her head and brain were gone. It was so painful. Her family was not rich. She was staying at a shack. They buried her. I felt like my mind was out of control. We used to share the same pack, money and school bags. She would come to my house to pick me up in the morning to go to school. I miss her and can’t forget her. She was my best friend.

At the end of the year, another tragedy happened. My neighbor, a boy died in the water in December. His father gave him money to visit him in Durban. He went to the river to swim and he was gone forever. He never came back. Even though he was with his friend he couldn’t be saved. His friend went home and told his parents that the boy didn’t get out. The family went to the river, but couldn’t find their son. His father came back and was very angry. However, no one should be blamed. The following day, the police came and found the boy dead under the water.            

My grandmother is my hero. She made me see and view the world in a different way. She pushes me to push myself to reach the stars. She made me love and respect other people. And in that I way I myself became stronger. I have been physically punished for my mistakes. I’ve had to walk barefoot, being pricked by thorns under my feet, but under that entire struggle I told myself, “There’s tomorrow.” My ambition is to study hard and get into a good occupation. I want to open a huge project in my village and employ the unemployed people. I will have the husband of my dreams work with me, not for me. He will share the good and the bad times with me. He will be the home of my heart. He will accept me as I am. He will love me for me and we will have children. Our children will be given the love that I never had. During all my spare time, I will play with them, share my stories, and love them. We will teach them about life and to grow up as wise individuals.  

Now in grade 11 at Marumofase Secondary School, everybody hates me, because I’m from Venda. Since many teachers are from Venda, when I write a test and get high marks, they say that the teacher gave me marks. I never keep that on my mind. We write a test again and they shout at me. I became very stressed and felt like I was a troublemaker at school. I started to get lower marks, because I could not read. I never told my mother what happened at school. I continue to persevere to fulfill my dream of becoming a lawyer. After all the difficult things that I have suffered, I am now capable of dealing with them and seeing the sunshine in the kindness and laughter of others.

                                              Written by Tsharani Portia Pontsho Tshumbedeo

Limpopo Short Story

A Loss that Saved a Life

            I am a unique African girl born and bred on the South African soil. I have spent most of my childhood at Indermark Village, a place I have shortly learned to love. Indermark is a place that is very special and unique in its own way.          

            My parents moved from Indermark to live at Ga-Dikgale, a village outside Polokwane. My father was born in Lesotho, raised by very humble parents from the royal family. The difference between my father and I was that he is a very respectful and humble person, while I’m the exact opposite. This place - nearly turned me into a spoilsport, an annoying and ungrateful little brat. As an only child, I got away with everything and anything. I thought that the world revolved around me. My behavior towards people before my father died, was selfish. When I was still at primary school I had to walk with underprivileged people home. I always wanted to be the best, wear the best, and own the best. I was jealous if I saw someone having something that I did not have.

            My father spent most of his time at work, traveling around Africa; but, every time he had a moment to spare, he would always come home to see me. I spent most of my time alone. I lived in a township, a place where all doors had to be locked and all windows had to be closed before seven in the afternoon. The field that my father was in prevented him from working in the township.

            I always thought that money compensated for everything, but it turned out I was wrong. A week after my arrival I made lots of friends. I thought that they just wanted to be my friends, but it turned out different. They were only after my parent’s money.

            My friends and I used to play indigenous games like ‘diketo’ and ‘dibeke.’ However, we became bored playing these games. Then one day a friend of mine from school told us that her sisters played cards at home and made a lot of money out of it. Suddenly, I became interested and suggested that my friends and I buy our own cards and play. We bought the cards and started playing day after day until sunset. Everyday I left home with something but came home with nothing. I asked, “How come?” I realized that nothing good would come my way. While I was playing cards I got confused and my mind would turn into a blank page. When my money ran out; I was also alone and without friends. I felt hurt and betrayed as a human being. Empty inside, rage and anger started building up inside me. I would always make mistakes deliberately and make my friend take the blame, knowing that money would make up for it. When my friends were in trouble I never saw any reason to rescue them. I never took the saying “A friend in need is a friend indeed” seriously. I did everything I pleased.

            The best time I had with my father is when I was nine years old. That day I came home feeling drowsy from the Friday activities at school. I opened the door and switched on the television. My father suddenly appeared at the doorway. “You better get packing, we are going to Lesotho to visit your grandparents,” he said. We boarded the airplane to Lesotho. On our third day in Lesotho we went to the stadium to watch a match. He always had petty fights over players and at the end of he day he would always let me win. Our trip to Lesotho was short but full of fun and laughter. We went to the Morija museum to learn more about my family’s culture and tradition. On our way home we would pass by the shops for some ice cream.

            In 2006, I decided to come home to my motherland, Indermark, where I belonged, where dreams are made and realized. My mind was thinking a lot, working overtime. I asked myself questions like: “Is it still the same or has something changed while I was away?” or “Are these the same people I left?”

I went back to my old behavior and started attending church like I used to. I am a believer you see. While I was at Ga-Dikgale I almost forgot that all happens in the name of Jesus Christ. I started preaching gospel to my fellow classmates and sang praises to my Lord at Kgobokanang.

Then the moment of truth came. I entered the high gates of Marumofase. The first bell rang and when the second one rang we went to the assembly. Just imagine the fear, torture, happiness, excitement, and loneliness. Everything you can ever imagine and more, mixed emotions of your first day at a new and different school. My classmates were very friendly. Within a short space of time I felt like part of the school.

Life started changing step by step. And suddenly everything around you starts to change: from the way people look at you, to the way people talk to you. Everything changes completely.       

Many people were never given a chance to prove others wrong but I have been given that second chance. A second chance at life…

Most people would consider my generation as lost and hopeless. “But are we truly?” I don’t believe any word of it! What they are trying to do is to paint us red with the same paintbrush - even though we are not the same! They want us to feel bad and doubt ourselves. They want to be superior to us because they were never given the opportunities we were. I am trying hard to prove them wrong.

I consider myself one of the ‘Born Frees’ because I was born after 1994; the year South Africa became a democracy. “But what does it mean to be a ‘Born Free’?” Well, according to me, being free does not truly exist in its pure form. We are still miles away from being true ‘Born Frees,’ but we will be one of them one of these good days.

We live in a world of pains and sorrows, mistakes and regrets, and negative attitudes. This is a world where one should stand up from the crowd and rise against all odds.   

Our world is deteriorating step by step. When we walk around the streets of Hilbrow we come across negative attitudes or social ills like drug dealing/drug abuse, prostitution, human trafficking, gangsterism, etc. The question is, “Who are we fooling?” The answer is simple and straightforward, “Nobody but ourselves.” Opportunities are abandoned at taverns doorsteps. Lives are lost, dreams fade away, hopes and aspirations are shuttered away…

There will be a time in our lives when we will be looking at our past and blame others. By then it will be rather to late, when there is only ourselves to blame. Don’t wait for that moment, the moment of disappointment.

I describe myself as:

A fruit

Born into democracy

Corrupted by a tree

Called technology.

Born and bred on the

African soil

Either to save or destroy

Africa.

            I’ll never let anyone or anything get into my way of reaching for the stars. Ever since I came into this world I’ve realized that life is about the struggle and the hard work needed to survive. Some of us will never be able to overcome the struggles we come across in life, because we are too smart for our own good.

            I’ve realized that life is a path and to overcome it we must sacrifice some things along the way. Life is a journey, a long and tough one. Some journeys have been cut short, while some are being wasted. Some people wish to see life heading in a different direction, but are never given a chance to make a change.

            The moment I’ve been waiting for, for the rest of my life came, to become sixteen years old. Reaching sixteen was what I always wanted, to own a green bar-coded identity document, to be a true South African citizen. I got so excited, because I was soon going to be an adult, go to University, buy a car, and be a responsible adult.

I received many messages wishing me a happy birthday. We ate a cake as a family, and only as a family; because, in my culture it is taboo to have a celebration while another member of the family is lying helplessly in the hospital, hovering between life and death. I wished my father a speedy recovery, but the fateful happened. I never knew that one-day life would take a different turn.

            I always considered myself lucky, because my father was always right by my side. He bought me everything I wanted anytime. Then fate played its role. I always heard people saying that they were going to a funeral. I never knew when death would choose to strike my family, and then I did as fast as lightening and unannounced. A month after my birthday my father passed away. He was gone.

             The last time when I saw my father was on the 8^th of December 2012 and I was on my way to my Grandma’s place. In March 2013 my father fell sick and passed away. I didn’t get a chance to pay my last respect. I needed permission from the chief to visit at the graveyard, since he was buried on ancestral land. I comforted myself by thinking that at least my father had the ultimate gift, a precious gift called life. I knew for a fact that father was in peace at last, but my heart was searching, bleeding, from deep within. It was torn into pieces. It felt like someone ripped my heart out and a heavy rock was put upon my shoulders to carry. My world was broken into pieces; it was crumbling, and falling bit by bit into nothing. An aching pain remained in my heart like a tough stain.  I asked, “Why him of all people?” The best father on the whole planet was gone, forever.

            Memories flashed back to me one by one. I thought with a broken heart: “No more arguments about TV channels, no more fighting over soccer players, no more daddy-daughter shopping days, and the one I would miss most – no more going to celebrate Jesus Christ together anymore.” The saddest memory is when he was carried along by the undertakers, being fully aware that I would never see him again. Only people from the royal house and some of our housemates came to the funeral.  It made me realize that we don’t know how important someone is until they are taken away from lives.

            Now I’ve accepted that my father is gone. Without a father my life has changed. I had to downgrade on some of the things. It hurts me the most to hear other people talk about their fathers. To me it is a lesson learnt, that I must not judge people, but accept and respect them as they are. Before my father died I always teased others for not having their fathers. I found my fathers death hard to accept. My fathers passing had a drastic effect on me. What I found hard to accept was that I was now one of those fatherless friends of mine that I used to tease. I felt like I was locked inside an animal cage and someone wanted me to suffocate till my last breath.

Sixteen became a nightmare to me. That’s when I decided to write this poem:

Sixteen

An innocent age

So young

Yet confusing and frustrating

Still maturing

Trying to discover the world

A new chapter begins or unfolds

To prepare you to see the world

In a different way

Time to make decisions

The right ones

To some this age is exciting

But to some it is devastating

Especially to those with one parent

Or not at all

Life seems uncertain and unfair

It seems as if the whole world

Is crashing upon them

Do you give up?

Or do you carry on

When you reach sixteen?

Sixteen, Is this really the right age?

To prepare you to be a man

Or maybe a lady

I don’t know

What do you think?

I’ve seen all the mistakes I’ve made in my life and I know that the time now is to change. Today, my life has been opened to a new chapter. I feel like I am born again so that I could carry on with this fateful and challenging journey, though with so many obstacles. I have a dream, a dream for a different future. I am willing to work harder than ever before. I want my family to be proud of me and I want to go places. I am going to work harder and study harder to be a clever mind. I know that with God’s help I can succeed.

While growing up I had so many dreams, some have changed and some have been made. I wanted to become an author, a climatologist, a social worker, a psychiatrist, a medical doctor, or a marriage counselor. During the past ten years of my life I had to give up on some of my dreams. My dream of becoming a marriage counselor and a social worker died when I chose the science stream. When I entered grade eleven I realized that I loved nature more than anything. I want to study geology and next year when I complete matric, I aspire to become a geologist. I haven’t given up on my dream of becoming an author yet; I’ll make it become true one day. For now my plans after completing matric is to study psychology. Taking in consideration the fact that many rural areas in South Africa don’t have access to these kinds of services.  A psychologist could offer therapy to help with stress.

 I know now that the choices we make today determine whether we see tomorrow or not. Just like Jordin Sparks once sang “One step at a time, there’s no need to rush.” I’m taking it one step at a time. With these lyrics and with Mariah Carey’s song “Hero,” I know I can get pass the death of my father and live a happy life. It’s true that what goes around comes back around and what goes up must come down!

This is what and who I am; Portia Masima Masipa and nobody can ever change me. This is what I am!!!

                                    Written by Portia Masima Masipa