Dear South Africa
If that has not caught your attention… nothing will really.
On my way to the taxi this morning
I was my fearful self.
(Please Lord… if I can just make it to the taxi rank without being robbed/raped or both…I will go to church every Sunday).
Had the same bargaining momentum on my way back home.
It’s the weekend… finally… I know right… who doesn’t like the weekends…
Home alone this weekend… kick back…watch movies…that’s the plan.
I really do not want to be a statistic: missing girl, please help us find her.
She was last seen…(you know the rest…)
Anyway…I have made up my mind…movie night.
Besides…I’m safer at home.
My neighbours will come to check up on me from time to time.
Just in case, you know…you can never be too safe…house break-ins and all.
Mental note to self: “Do not forget to wear a tracksuit when they do come through”.
I remember there was a time “Mr Neighbor” passed on some very awkward remarks
about my physique. When I tried to later convey the message to “Mrs Neighbor”… she insinuated that I maybe should consider changing my “dress code”.
!shocked! I was, as you can imagine… but not at what she said…but at the fact that I was in my winter pyjamas at the time of the incident…Wow!
Tracksuit it is. No harm, no foul …right?
I could easily just have a small get together here you know.
Couple of close friends/Colleagues…couple of drinks…nothing hectic.
Mental note to self: “Do not enjoy yourself too much… no matter how comfortable you are… you might send the wrong signals to some guys”.
So much for a peaceful weekend, because tomorrow morning it’s me and the walk to the taxi again.
Dear South Africa.
This is just one weekend.
What about the others?
Why am I in constant fear?