“Good morniiiing my angel, how did you sleep?” said Mam’Thandi giving me breakfast in bed.

“Good morning mama, I am well. Thank you for the breakfast but you didn’t have to. I should be the one spoiling you after you gave me a place to stay,” I said.

“Stop it wena, this has always been your home even though you vanished mysteriously. Tell me what dragged you home after so many years?” asked Mam’Thandi.

“Before I answer that Mam’Thandi. Where is your family?” I asked.

“That monster called Freddie died in a car accident. My sons are working in Mpumalanga,” answered mam Thandi.

“Well, I left here because Uncle Fred tried to rape me. I was afraid to tell you because it would have caused problems. I met a men named Mike who seemed to be caring and loving. We moved together to Cape Town where he started to abuse me sexually and emotionally. He invited young girls who were in my situation over and have sex with us at the same time. He was even refusing to use protection. When he was tired of me he was selling me to his friends. It happened that one of his friends impregnated me,” I said. “After nine months I gave birth to a boy Lethabo, he was forcefully taken away from me by his friend. One night his sisters came over and informed me that he was shot dead by hijackers. They kicked me out like a dog. I was all alone again,” I explained.

“Oh Nkosi yam, my God! This world is cruel. I am sorry for what Freddie did to you my child. He was a monster. Why did you decide to come home now?” asked Mam’Thandi.

“I was a sex worker Mam’Thandi. I needed money for rent, food and clothes. I am not proud of it mama. I realised that I was growing old and I can’t be prostitute for ever. I decided to come home and fix my life at least now I’m older.

“I understand Zodwa and thanks for finally coming home. You are safe now. My son Musa is a lawyer, I will call him to fight for your son’s custody and we shall look for your father together. Now eat and get ready for church,” said Mam’Thandi.

I felt loved and valued for the first time in my life. We walked to church, when we got there the whole congregation gave me funny looks that made me feel uncomfortable, some were pointing fingers at me and whispering to each other.

“Don’t mind them my daughter, we are all sinners here,” said Mam’Thandi.
After church she introduced me to Pastor Thomas, who was the church’s pastor. Pastor offered me a job as his personal assistant since he was looking for one. The job was to keep me sane. The other women in church were upset when they heard about that; they called me all sorts of names.

Months went by, I was working closely with Pastor and his wife started getting jealous. Our relationship was strictly work-related but that soon changed when we went to his conference. His wife was busy organising a women’s march against GBV that weekend, so I had to go with him.

He started asking me sexually-related questions which made me feel uncomfortable and he would even send me porn videos. I told him that I didn’t like what he was doing. He apologised and promised to behave. One night I was left alone in Mam’Thandi’s house. She was going to visit her sons in Mpumalanga. I heard a knock at the kitchen door.

“Oh Pastor it is you, you may come in,” I invited him in, politely. I made him a cup of coffee like Mam’Thandi always does.

“What brings you here, Pastor?” I asked.

“I just came to check if you doing well alone here.”

“As you can see man of God, I am doing well,” I answered.

“Loosen up, Zodwa! I know that you want this as much as I want it. It will be our little secret,” he said, moving closer to me.

“I told you that I don’t like this. Stop this,” I said and moved away from him.

He pushed me to the corner and I tried yelling, but he covered my mouth. He forcefully lifted my skirt up, and had his way with me. I tried to fight back but I failed.

Finally, he let me go. He turned his back on me and I reached for a butcher knife and stuck it in his back. I made sure that the last wound pierced his heart. I then called the police and yelled for help from the neighbours. The whole community of Galeshewe came out, they were hurling insults at me even after I had explained to them what happened.

“You deserve to die like your mother! You seduced the pastor and he gave you what you wanted,” the mob hurled insults.

They then hung a tyre around my neck and poured petrol over me. I saw my life flash right before my eyes. Police came just when they were about to set me alight. Mam’Thandi and her lawyer son didn’t turn their backs on me.

I was sentenced to ten years for murder. I was not surprised because I live in a country where victims are criminalised. I completed my matric in my five years in prison, and I got a parole. Mam’Thandi found my father, he was now a normal man with a job and he was not drinking. We made peace and I moved to the Eastern Cape with him. I’m still fighting for the custody of my son.

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