Vhuthuhawe walked alone from Gungula to Mutanangwe. It was very quiet and the sun was extremely hot at 42 degree Celsius. After about 35 minutes of walking alone, Vhuthuhawe took out her cell phone from her handbag and dialled Mulalo’s numbers.

“The subscriber you have dialled is not available at present, please try again later,” the lady said on the phone.

“Eh! Mulalo mani! Why is your phone not available?” Vhuthuhawe said, annoyed.

She called Mulalo again as she approached Phumuloni, the new part of Gundula. There were kids playing Makoti-koti at a nearby yard.

“Hello, Aa! Can I ask you something?” asked Vhuthuhawe, talking to one of the kids.

“Yes sister, ask,” said the kid.

“Do you know someone by the name of Mulalo around this place?” Vhuthuhawe asked.

“The are too many people named Mulalo in this place. Does your Mulalo not have a surname?” asked the kid.

“He didn’t tell me his surname,” said Vhuthuhawe.

“I don’t know him.”

It was around 6 o’clock and Vhuthuhawe called Mulalo again. His phone was still off and she searched all over the community in vain.

An old lady was walking down the street and saw Vhuthuhawe o dzula fhasi ha muri (sitting down and looking very tired).

“What are you doing at this place at this time of the night my daughter?” asked the old lady.

“My name is Vhuthuhawe, I’m from Ha-Mbahela. I came here to look for my boyfriend, Mulalo, he said he lives around here. I searched everywhere and asked so many people, but no one is leading me to my destiny,” said Vhuthuhawe.

“Shame, when did you meet that boyfriend of yours and where?” asked the old lady.

“I didn’t meet him in person, we only chat on Facebook. It’s been two years now that we’ve been talking,” Vhuthuhawe replied with confidence.

“Children of these days! And you come to a decision to sell yourself out? Nwananga, this world of today will eat you and you will disappear, even your parents will know nothing of your whereabouts.”

“What do I do now, at this time of the night?” Vhuthuhawe asked with fear.

“Let’s go to my place, you will go home tomorrow morning,” they both walked to the old lady’s home.

At around 12 midnight, Mulalo switched on his cell phone and started calling Vhuthuhawe, but she didn’t answer his calls. He then wrote a message to her.

You are so lucky girl, your God fought for you today otherwise you would be a dead person by now.

It turned out that Mulalo was a gangster who was involved in human trafficking. He used social networks to attract young girls, promising them heaven and earth, but at the end of the day they became his victims.


Tell us: Would you have helped Vhuthuhawe if you saw her stranded on the street?