Yah stabane!” They drunkenly shout, the wind carries their words straight to my heart.

Unfortunately for them, that word doesn’t hurt me the way it used to do. It doesn’t make me want to curl up in a dark room somewhere, and cry my lungs out. 

“Tomboy!” Another one says. 

I can hear him walking faster, I up my pace too. I say a silent prayer, I wonder if God will hear it, apparently he hates my type. 

I hold my workbag tighter, and start jogging. The street lights are off, it’s dark and it’s winter. It’s only 8pm, but nobody is outside except for these douchebags. The winter snow drizzles down below, it lands on my face, icy and cold. Like my heart.

“Oh Nomfundo, why would you choose this life? They will kill you! Remember what they did to the woman who lived down the road, with her lover? They burnt their house down. Her lover died, now she’s left with the burn marks to remind her of that brutal night.” My mom had said, the day I came out to her.

Suddenly I just remembered her words. I felt tears prickling the corner of my eyes, and I sniffed loudly.

“Ah! Men don’t cry! Uyindoda angithi wena?(you’re a man, aren’t you?” They laughed, as they heard my sniff.

I kept quiet and walked faster. Why had I stayed behind at the office today? 

There are things my mother didn’t understand about my lifestyle, but she tried to be supportive. I smile sadly as I remember, her baking a rainbow cake on my 28th birthday last year.

A cold hand lands on my shoulder, and twists me back. I shiver. Finally, I come face to face with the men who have been following me since I got off the taxi.

“Nc nc. You’d be so beautiful, if you didn’t hide under these manly clothes and haircuts.” One of them says.

I face away.

He slaps me. My cheek stings. I refuse to let a tear fall. He smiles wickedly in my face, his eyes boring holes into mine. 

“Majita, come closer.” He calls out.

His friends rush to where we are standing. Four of them. They are drunk. I know one of them. He realizes he knows me too. I look to him for help.

“Gents, maybe we shouldn’t do this.” He says.

I feel my heart relaxing. Senzo is his name. We grew up together. We used to play soccer and marbles together. We were best friends in Primary school.

“Shut up!” The one who seems like the leader of the pack says.

“We shouldn’t leave her alive then. I know her.” Senzo states.

I finally let my tears fall, it’s over.