The coach was not at school that Wednesday; neither was his son. In class, Esethu continuously glanced at Hlumelo’s empty seat. That evening, Fezeka came knocking at Esethu’s door once more.

“Zanele hasn’t come home from work today and I am too scared to be alone,” Fezeka reported.

“Come in. She will find you here,” Esethu said and ushered her through the door.

However, Zanele did not return that night and was nowhere to be seen on Thursday; she did not phone.

Friday, Mrs Mthembu said she had decided to go past the police station after work. She believed it was time to report Zanele missing.

At break, as Esethu and Lona came strolling from the tuckshop, they spotted the coach speaking to Fezeka in the corridor. They inched closer, saw him grab her hand and slap money into her open palm.

“I don’t want your money,” they heard Fezeka respond. “Where is my sister?”

“I told you. I don’t know where she is. Now take the money and go buy yourself something nice,” he instructed. “Also, I want to find you at home today. Stop gallivanting around the neighbours’ houses.”

“No!” Fezeka threw the money back at him. “I know you did something to Zanele and I am going to report you to the Principal. In fact, I am going to the police!”

“You do that and I will make your life a living hell!” Mr Sibiya grabbed hold of her collar and shook her.

“Stop it!” Esethu and Lona shouted simultaneously.

The coach released Fezeka and jumped back, startled. He watched as the girls rushed to Fezeka’s side.

“We were just talking,” he lied, nervously scratching his head.

“Take your money and leave!” Esethu snapped.

The coach knew he couldn’t intimidate Esethu or her tall friend. He drew a deep breath, bent to snatch his money off the floor and left.

“We need to report him to the Principal,” Lona said, as she fixed Fezeka’s collar.

“No.” Fezeka shook her head. “He is going to kill me.”

“No he won’t. He just wants to scare you. If you won’t talk to the Principal, at least talk to us and the other girls,” Esethu offered. “The girl’s buddy group session is this afternoon and talking about this will help you feel better.”

Fezeka hesitantly nodded.

* * * * *

Esethu and Lona held Fezeka’s hand as they walked into the hall that afternoon. There were more girls than there had been the previous week. More of the lower grades had joined. Esethu introduced the meeting and welcomed the girls to share their experiences, challenges or thoughts. Shortly after two girls had spoken, Fezeka began to tell her story. She was shy at first but quickly gained courage as the story poured out. The girls reached out to hold her hand, offering their support and suggestions. Some of them had also been harassed, threatened and beaten by boys.

At the end of the session, as the girls gathered their belongings, a knock came at the window. Through the glass, they watched the boxing boys gather outside, and the knocking turned into a thunderous banging.

“The skirts are feeling brave today!” they chanted.

“This is the kind of behaviour we have to deal with,” a girl named Pamela said and rolled her eyes.

“This has to end today,” Nombuso added.

As the girls marched to the door, the banging abruptly stopped. When they stepped outside, the boys were gone. The girls watched them run across the school yard, maroon jerseys disappearing through the main gate.

Believing they had been tortured enough for the day, the girls were then surprised to have small stones rain over them on the way home. Members of the boxing squad jumped out of the tall grass lining the road and laughed.

“This isn’t funny anymore!” Lona shouted.

Nombuso and Pamela whipped their phones out of their bags and began snapping pictures of the incident.

“Honestly, we are tired,” Nombuso declared. “We are going to report each and every one of you for this!”

The boys instantly shrank away, even though Hlumelo tried to convince his friends to ignore the girls’ threat. They shook their heads.

***

Tell us: Is this ‘just harmless fun’ or is this harassment?