I was getting tired of listening to my father nagging all the time. If he wasn’t complaining about how bad some people treated him, he would complain about how terrible living in this tin shack felt like. Well of cause people treated him badly; he was a cruel man and was notorious for it.

There was a fire that swept the community some months back. A lot of people lost all their belongings, and other lost their love ones. We are waiting to be settled into the promise land and that is when our RDP houses will be ready. In the meanwhile, we wait.

I pitied my mother as she had to stay home all day and do all the house chores since she was unemployed. Oh how boring it is to live in this tin shacks all day! At least me and my dad spend less time in this place. During the week I would go to school and dad would go to his association and we would be home on weekends.

Power to the people is a group he invented after he was removed from being head of the tender. The group was meant to free people from suffering and fight to maintain their human rights. But none of that has happened yet.

During the shack fire my dad lost one of his association members, who was in charge of the finances and admin. But it didn’t take long for my father to replace him. He replaced him with his former school mate, Alex, who is a former policeman.

A few years ago, when foreigners populated our community and had stores all over the place, people felt threatened. Their shops lost profit and people preferred buying from the foreigners since things were cheaper there. My father then assured the community that he would come up with a plan to chase them all away!

He, along with his association members, broke into the foreigner’s stores. They stole things, broke some and even burnt some. Then they went to the shacks the foreigners lived in. They pulled them out and beat them.

The innocent little ones and the old ones were kicked to the ground and beaten. Many were tremendously bruised and some were beaten to death. Those who survived manage to escape and moved elsewhere. Some scattered all around Kwazulu-Natal while others went back to their native country.

My father managed to deceive people into trusting him once again.

People started wanting to join his organization. He insisted that everyone who wants to join must pay a certain fee as he intended to move his association to greater heights.

The community then faced a challenge with unwanted pregnancies. The mother’s couldn’t afford to feed or take care of the children, as most of them were teenagers. My father suggested that the pregnant women drink some poison in order to get grant money for their children’s disability.

When the few that went along with this plan started living better, the ones who hadn’t wanted started imitating this horrible act. And once again, my father was a filthy hero.

But living in this tin shack has the only one advantage. I get to see Bongani, the man of my dreams.

Bongani and I lived in the same informal settlement before the fire. But I didn’t know him then; he lived far and we went to different schools. After I noticed him I started spying on him.

I couldn’t help but notice him in the morning, wearing his boxers, when he went out to bath outside. And I couldn’t help but notice him in his trunks at night, when he went out to stir his hot plate of food. I watched him all the time.

Whenever I was around him I felt butterflies in my belly. And when I had to speak to him I felt as if they were going to come out of my mouth.

I remember when he asked me to be his study partner. It felt like it was the best thing anyone has ever asked of me. I didn’t know how to respond to his request; I was uncertain whether to agree or not. With all my heart I knew that I longed to be closer to him. But the more I was with him, the more terrified I was. Sometimes I’d trembled, and I couldn’t handle embarrassing myself in front of him.

Bongani was a gentle man. I adored the way he treated women. He didn’t beat or insult women like the other men. Instead he treated them with tenderness. He treated me with tenderness!

I loved his manly appearance and behavior. I loved the way he was enthusiastic about education and the way he was certain of what he wanted. Bongani was not the most handsome guy, compared to other boys at school. But to me, he was the most handsome guy I have ever met.

I loved his appearance, his life style, character and personality.

When I first saw him I thought he came from a family with good background. He was always smiling and happy to help out in the community. But I had heard rumors that he had lost his parents during the burning of the shelters. His father was said to be a security at the bank and his mother a teacher at a pre-primary school.

I know it is wrong to think negatively but somehow I am glad that the fire took place. Otherwise I wouldn’t have met Bongani. They say everything happens for a reason and I feel as if having to meet Bongani was the reason for all this.

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Let’s chat: When good things come out of bad situations, should people celebrate them?