Remember the song “Akazi amapha iwe, (ukunama) akazi amapha iwe(ukunama ndati)”? It was a hit back then, and later on, I realized everything Shozie said in that song is pure fact. It’s true, guys, women can complicate things a lot.

After a learning trip to Goliati with my classmates, we arrived at campus around 9 pm. I stayed in Manase, a few kilometers from New Naperi, where our school was located.

After getting off the bus with my classmates, it was time for us from the Manase area to gather so we could walk together home.

Before joining my Manase crew, I heard a shout, “Gasper!” It was my good friend Matapwata. Rushing over, he asked me a tough question, “Bro, do you want to remain single on this campus forever?” Confused, I replied, “Who doesn’t want to be called Honey?”

Matapwata pointed out my crush, indicating she seemed stranded and needed someone to escort her to her hostel. Despite knowing it wasn’t safe to escort her alone at night in an area known for robberies, I manned up and accompanied her, hoping to increase my chances with her.

Escorting her was beautiful, that slow walk, holding her hand—it felt romantic for a moment. OG felt loved.

While walking, I noticed we were surrounded by muscular guys. Wondering if they were thugs, my crush reassured me they were the Neighborhood Security Team. After confidently explaining our destination, they let us pass.

We reached the gate of her hostel. She mentioned the road wasn’t safe for me to travel alone but said she couldn’t have boys in her hostel after 5 pm. Her care was touching, but circumstances dashed any possibilities.

After leaving her at the hostel, I headed back to Manase. At a junction in Naperi, another group of neighborhood security approached. They asked where I was coming from at that hour. I had to explain, then someone with a rough voice demanded money or threatened to arrest me. Sweating, I handed over 5 thousand kwacha from the 10 thousand I had, and they let me go.

Fearing the road ahead, I encountered another group of Neighborhood Security near Spendrite. They demanded money too, and I gave them the remaining 5 thousand kwacha before they let me pass.

Approaching Naperi Bridge, I spotted a group of men with sticks and pangas. Not wearing reflectors like the previous teams, I knew they were going to rob me. Quickly, I hid my phone underneath my underwear, a disgusting move, but necessary.

They approached, searched my pockets, found only some 50 kwacha, tore my shirt, and inflicted countless slaps.These were real gangs, and tears flowed.

One person in the gang suggested I looked innocent and should be let go, that’s the benefits of having an innocent face, but another insisted I hand over a pair of shoes. They were the ones my beloved mom bought after selling her pigeon peas, my first time wearing them. It still pains me; they were nice shoes.

After handing over the shoes, they gave me some kicks and let me go. I ran from Naperi Bridge to CI church, barefoot all the way to Manase, all because of a girl who wasn’t even mine. Love can really hurt, guys.

Around 11 pm, passing a bar, I saw people dancing to a song by Thomas Chibade, “Bulu wanding’amba nthiti, wanding’ambira zovala, ndasala wauphawi.” I joined them, dancing to the reggae tune that resonated with my situation.

Overall, it was a tough day for a brother from the municipality.