The township of Lawley can be spotted by its tall gum trees. On a cool Sunday, when most people are at church bonding with their Creator, the branches sway about, creating a pleasant melody. This is even more mesmerising when the swaying of the branches fuses with the soft singing of the birds, moving from one gum tree to the next with excitement. The streets become so peaceful that one cannot help but appreciate the smallest things under the sun and nature in general.
Nthabiseng was having a Sunday exactly like the one aforementioned. She had been alone at home because her parents had gone to church. Her parents were liberals, and they wouldn’t force any child of theirs to attend church or unwillingly emulate their deeds.
Nthabiseng closed the gate behind her before taking a chilled walk. She went past Baloyi’s supermarket. There were fewer people in the streets than expected on a Sunday, and before she passed by Dubula’s tavern, she saw a group of boys relaxing by the corner of African Supermarket. There were so many of them that they could form two soccer teams.
Nthabiseng was disgusted by the sight because this meant she would have to deal with rude and perverted remarks from them. A part of her wanted to go back and avoid the boys, but over the years, she had learnt to endure their remarks. Sometimes they complimented her, but, on certain occasions, they would be extremely rude to her whenever she ignored them. Because of bitterness, the ignored boy would swear or crack a rude joke, at which his other friends would laugh raucously. But her coping mechanism was that all the girls at Lawley were experiencing the same thing. In fact, this was what all the girls were going through in the townships. She had visited Finetown, Mountain View, Orange Farm and Sebokeng, and she observed how boys whistled and threw about creepy compliments and fantasies whenever a beautiful girl walked passed them. Whilst many girls found these behaviours annoying, there were a few of them who were flattered. The compliments and praises amused them.
As usual, the young men whistled when Nthabiseng walked passed them. As is custom, she ignored them and, luckily for her, they didn’t have the immorality to insult her. She bought airtime at African Supermarket and, while loading her airtime on her way back home, a random guy politely disturbed her.
“Hello, Beauty?” the guy said.
Nthabiseng lazily gazed at him. She would have ignored him, but he appeared gentleman-like and respectful.
“Beauty?” Nthabiseng highlighted in confusion.
“Beauty is your name, right?”
“No, you tell me since you know.”
“Pardon me for that. But when I saw you, there was no name I could think of that suits you better than Beauty?”
Nthabiseng was flattered, and she looked far away from the young gentleman so he wouldn’t notice she was smiling. Except the sound of their footsteps, there was an awkward silence between them. The “random” guy noticed this and attempted to break the silence.
“What is your name then?” he asked.
“I’m Nthabiseng, and you are?”
“Well, my name is Siphiwe. It’s Siphiwe, not Simphiwe. I just hope you’ll always get it right.”
“And why am I supposed to always get it right?”
“Because I plan on having you by my side till infinity.”
Nthabiseng rolled her eyes. She already saw it coming. Every guy she had initiated a thrilling conversation with always ruined things by flirting with her. They all wanted to have her as their girlfriend. Siphiwe clarified his intentions to Nthabiseng. He spoke about how he adored her and how she will be safe with him. Nthabiseng indignantly rejected him and, to add salt to the wound, she refused to give him her number. His words had softened her heart, but she knew better than to trust boys. She’d had her heart broken by manipulative wordsmiths like Siphiwe. She wouldn’t dare allow herself to be deceived again. Boys always trick girls into falling for them, and when they’ve lied their way to their panties, they toss them away like dirt. She refused to be manipulated this time around.
Tell us: Do you believe Siphiwe’s words?