At the beginning, I only smoked weed on special days, but then every day became a special day to me. I was a regular smoker for years. I passed Grade 10 with flying colours. Marijuana made me the cleverest person ever, but whenever it came to presentations or anything that required talking I was on my worst behaviour. I hated talking.

When I was in Grade 11 my adopted mother found me high. I couldn’t deny any of it. She had already seen it all. She went to report me to my adopted father. I was called to explain my reasons. I wanted to explain everything, but I couldn’t. I just stood there like a robot. My father hit me hard. After that I went to my room and locked myself up. I wrote down everything from the beginning to the end. This is what I wrote:

Dear Mom and Dad,

I just wanted to say that I am truly sorry for everything bad that I’ve put you through. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.

It all started when I was young. Growing up not knowing where my parents are or why they deserted me hasn’t been easy for me. I grew up a lonely, angry girl, with so many unanswered questions. I was only seven years old and they chose to throw me away. At the children’s home I felt so isolated.

I thought I had finally found people who would take care of me, people I could call my parents, but Grandma made it very clear that I will never be accepted here. This made me feel like I don’t belong anywhere.

Marijuana is my escape. When I am troubled it becomes my therapy…

I finished writing the letter and gave it to my Mom, and then I went to chill outside. I knew that none of this was my fault. My wicked biological parents were to blame, but sadly they were nowhere to be found, so they couldn’t take the blame.

My friend Nosihe couldn’t keep giving me weed, so I had to make a plan. I couldn’t live without it. When I was high I lived in my fantasy world and I wished I could stay there for good. I couldn’t think of any solutions, so I decided to sell my own body.

Nosihe joined me. It was the worst decision ever, but it was worth it. Our parents were very strict. They wouldn’t allow us to go out every night, so we had to first search for an owner. The first owner we found was a white old man. He refused to hire us. He told us that we were too young for the game. The second owner was a beautiful lady named Queen. She was so beautiful that she spent most of her time in front of the mirror. When we got there she was doing her nails.

“Hello ma’am,” we said.

“How can I help you?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“We are looking for a job. We need money for school things and also to buy food. We are homeless,” said Nosihe.

The woman gave us the job and explained everything to us. The salary was good.

“Why did you lie about us being homeless?” I asked Nosihe on our way home.

“The parents that I’m living with are not my biological parents,” she said. “The man is abusing me sexually. This is my escape. I’m tired of being his sex slave.”

“Why don’t you report him to the police?” I asked.

“He promised to kill me if I did, and my Mom said I should keep quite. She can’t afford to lose her husband because of a bastard child.”

It all made sense, I thought to myself. Weed and now this. I packed all of my stuff and left a suicide note for my parents so that they wouldn’t come looking for me. Durban is a big place, so even if they wanted to find me they wouldn’t. In my letter I blamed them for everything. Nosihe and I vanished from Umlazi to Durban North Beach. Life on the streets wasn’t easy but it was what we had to do.

My first day selling was horrible. I had never had sex before. My first-time client was my new boss’s friend. He didn’t pay me. He said that I was bad, and that he had helped me by taking my virginity. I went to report him to Queen and she went to speak with him. I thought they were friends, but from the way they talked I had the feeling that they had unfinished business. Queen paid me herself, because the man refused to pay.

I was selling at Queens’ B&B, because I was too young to be standing around on the street. That would mean trouble for Queen. Nosihe came with pills. She said they would make us feel good during sex and that we would then have more clients. Weed and those pills worked together.

We become Queens’ favourites. She also smoked weed, so we would get high together. Queen asked me to quit school so that I could work during the day. She said that daytime was the time for married men. Nosihe and I ended living in the B&B with Queen. She taught us how to look good. She was a beauty queen. We wore beautiful clothes, our hair was always on point, our nails were done and our purses were full of Tata Nelson Mandela’s face.

One day, a man came to the B&B and asked for Queen. They went to talk outside. It was the very same man who had taken my virginity and refused to pay. When they came back Queen told me to give my best service to the man. We went into my bedroom and had sex for a very long period of time. The man had weed with him and some small white pills. He called them “wake up pills”.

At sunset, he decided to leave. My body and mind were tired. I wanted to sleep, but first I decided to go and use the toilet. While I was in there, Queen and the man I had just been with walked in. Queen checked all the toilets, except for the one that I was in. She told the man that there was no one in there. I overheard their conversation.

“I want to take her with me,” said the man.

“Who?” asked Queen.

“The girl I was with…” replied the man.

“Are you mad?” said Queen. “She is one of my best girls. Take her friend instead.”

“She will be good for my drug business,” laughed the man. “I will send her to Dubai.”

“Go to hell,” said Queen angrily.

“First you slept with my brother and reported our drug business. We lost our only daughter, Thandiwe. She is at some children’s home. We are not even allowed to see her or anything, and it’s all because of you!” said the man.

“How is everything my fault?” replied Queen. “I loved Thandiwe a lot. I wanted what was best for her. We have never been good parents. She is better without us. As for sleeping with your brother, I was doing it to get back to you! You cheated on me with my best friend!”

I was shaking as I was listening to this conversation. Thandiwe was my real name. At the children’s home my housemother had given me a new name: Zinhle. Queen and everyone else knew me as Zinhle. I didn’t know what to do after hearing all of this. How could they do this to me? I asked myself

“Best for Thandiwe? How do you know it was best for her?” replied the man.

“We spent four years in jail. Who would have taken care of her during that time?” said Queen. “My family wanted nothing to do with me because I chose you over them. They hated you. Your family are the most selfish people I know. She is better off without us.”

At that moment, I decided to step out of the toilet cubicle with tears streaming down my face. I was still high when I overheard this conversation, but I somehow found the strength to stand and to talk. I don’t know where the strength came from, because I usually keep quiet after weed.

“I was only seven years of age,” I said to the two of them. They both looked at me. They were speechless and their eyes were full of questions. I kept talking: “I was too young to suffer alone in this cruel world. I’ve always wanted to know the truth, but my housemother denied me the truth. She even changed my name from Thandiwe to Zinhle. Thandiwe is a name that gave me hope. I hoped that one day you would both come to the children’s home to fetch me. I thought that you named me Thandiwe because I was your only flesh and blood. I was wrong. You never cared!”

Queen tried to touch me but I pulled back. “My mother!” I shouted at her. “The person who was supposed to love me and protect me encouraged me to be a slave! A sex slave! You are the most wicked woman that I have ever known!”

“We are truly sorry, daughter,” said the man.

“My father!” I said, looking angrily at him. “The person I should have been able to run to when the world throws me stones, when the waves are flooding the shore. You were the first man to take my pride! I grew up a lonely, bitter, angry young woman, and it’s all because of you! Wicked parents! It all makes sense. Weed. Prostitution. I am taking after you. I hate the fact that I have your genes in me, your blood flowing through my veins!”

I was talking and crying at the same time. “If I die today my soul and blood will be in your hands,” I said to them. “My parents killed me alive.”

***

Tell us what you think: Do you think Thandiwe is right for blaming her parents for how her life turned out or is she to blame for the decisions she made?