A young man – mid-twenties – was walking in the early hours of the day – just before sunrise and on his way to work. The usual daily commute. Suddenly, he was bewildered as three men approached him from behind: one pushed him to the floor and the one who appeared to be their leader pulled out a gun that seemed to be hidden behind his back, the man held the gun up in his face.

The man had roared at the three of them, saying they must go to hell where they belong. As anyone would have probably guessed: the gang leader didn’t take that well, he swung his arm and smashed the gun across the man’s face – he hated prey that exhibited any sign of bravery, he resented any form of rebellion against him. The three men proceeded to stamp on him incessantly, they then invaded his pockets, took his belongings and left him there – in the cold, dark hours that adorned the soon coming sunrise.

It was strange though, with a heart fuming and pumping with rage, he didn’t do it: something had stopped the gang leader from pulling the trigger and ending the man’s Life. He never had tolerance for insolent victims. Never! It was everyone’s responsibility to submit to him. Those who didn’t submit, deserved to die! Nkosinathi believed that with all of his heart.

The man got up and realized his brand new clothes are heavily battered with a thick layer of brown dust and hints of mud. A trail of blood flowed down the side of his head and unbearable waves of pain flowed through and tortured his body. Enraged he was, a blaze sparked to life within him. And in that very moment, he had sworn to set the Gods of Karma loose upon those men. He marched home – the daily commute to the city suddenly grew into a phenomena of meaninglessness.

Upon reaching home, the man got himself cleaned up and then approached what appeared to be his Usamo(Altar), where he spoke and connected with his Ancestors. This man’s name… Sivuyile. 

Sivuyile is a heavy believer in Ancestors and African traditions. He approached his Umsamo – which was heavily decorated with Amabhayi (Ancestral cloths), containers of snuff, virgin bottles of Brandy, bushes of Impepho and a lot more things that looked strange, mysterious yet extremely captivating. He knelt down, lit some of his impepho, opened a container of snuff, and sprinkled a few pinches on his Altar. Smoke levitated out of the glowing, orange bits on the impepho and billowed into the air above.

Sivuyile cupped his hands and clapped them as he chanted his clan names. He humbly requested that the Gods of Karma come forth and serve a dish of justice. He asked that his Ancestors of purity and light chase away all darkness in his Life and deal with his enemies. Shortly after, he embraced a moment of silence with his eyes gently shut. He opened his eyes after a while, he snuffed out the candles, meditated for a few minutes, proceeded to change into his sleep attire, got into bed and allowed himself to rest. ‘I will wake up after sunrise,’ he had told himself. He needed time to heal, the gruesome beating weighed heavily on his body.

Sivuyile paid a visit to the community leader in the later hours of the day – despite the throbbing pains putting his body through a trial of great discomfort. A deep conversation manifested between the community leader and him. He described the gang leader and his boys in clear detail. The community leader realized that the man before him is describing people who are no other than Nkosinathi and his couple of partners in crime (his boys). The community leader vowed to fight back, he vowed to take the war to them so that the people and the community may finally realize peace and harmony.

* * * * *

Nkosinathi walked out the entrance of a spaza shop, the cool breeze hit his face as he opened his drink and threw a few gulps down his throat. He strided down the street and noticed something a little strange: the people passing by shot endless gazes and glares in his direction. He brushed it off at first realization. But the second time around, it had dawned on him that there was more to it than just random moments of acknowledgement. ‘Everyone is staring for a reason,’ he thought to himself.

“There he is!” A man had shouted!