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How Do I Live?

"Sorry, ngiyayethuka!", I apologized. My heart's racing whilst my stomach churns with fear. A colleague had spotted me and just wanted to say hi. How do I explain that I'm not yet over it? He looked at me shocked! I reacted as if it was a stranger who was about to violate me...again!


Post Traumatic Stress



It’s been two months now since I was robbed but every time that I go home, it feels as if it was yesterday.

It was a Friday night when I usually try to cover all my weekend work so that I can enjoy a weekend off. Logistically, I save by not commuting to work over the weekend. So as usual I was working until slightly late. This particular Friday I had made plans to go sleep over at my sister's however since my aunt had travelled that day I had to reschedule.

A cousin of mine was house sitting but due to their history of irresponsibility,someone else had to monitor them. I would handle Friday before allowing someone else to take over until my aunt's return.

I covered my work as I enjoyed some of my favourite music. When I was done I couldn't wait for the weekend. I also had a date but that had to be cancelled due to unforseen circumstances at home.

I decided to wait for my colleagues to round up and close the office so that we would just go home together. Intuitively I wanted to leave earlier instead for waiting for everyone else. But I ignored it and went on to wait. Something inside me felt an eerie feeling of misfortune waiting to happen. It was around 9ish but I told myself to be on a DJ Khaled vibe - only positivity.

Feeling good like James Brown's song, I boarded a combi home. I was chatting with my sister and an aunt who was waiting for me by the gate at home. I remember checking the time at 9.45 pm and letting that aunt know that I was about to drop off by the usual stop.

The neighbourhood is dark due to months of no electricity. The houses that had generators had been switched off. I found comfort in the fact that I was now in the road to our house and there were still people moving about. Besides, this is the high density suburbs where midnight is time to say goodnight. I didn't even think much of it when an unknown car passed me by as I approached home. It was only when the car made an abrupt stop whilst flashing at me that I realised that my safety was compromised.

A man dressed in dark clothes approached me and pulled my handbag. I fought for it whilst screaming with the hope that neighbours would come out. I was right in front of a neighbour's house that had no form of fencing or a wall. My screams were so loud I had hope that whilst I stalled by fighting the robber that rescue would be on it's way.

Alas, the robber dragged the bag along with me still holding onto it. Look my house keys and my phone were in the bag. Those were my priorities at that moment. I would let the robbers have my gold Prada handbag along with my $1.50 and everything else. It wasn't okay but I would have safeguarded what I needed most - access.

The thief dragged me until the car started moving and that's when I let go of the bag. I was confused, how could I let these thieves get away. My heart broke like broken glass as I watched the car speed away. My neighbours decided to come out when all the action had died down. They are like those people who pay attention to the movie at the anticlimax.

My keys? My phone? How am I going to get into the house. The aunt who had been waiting for me was perplexed. She then had to gather strength to console me. I was bruised. My arm. My hip, knees and even palms. The hard earth scraped every layer of safety from me. I felt vulnerable as if I was Cersei Lannister during the walk of shame. The difference - there was no tall, suit of armour to cover me at the end of the shameful walk to clothe me and carry me. I started knocking at neighbours houses looking for a place to lay our heads for the night. After futile trials, auntie and I found refuge at a church member's house,who also happens to be a neighbour.

In the darkness I cried replaying every scene of the dreadful event. I replayed as I rewrote the script. I should have kicked him in the groin and ran straight into a neighbor's yard. Or maybe I should have have thrown stones at the car and the thieves - that surely would have gotten them. Or when I noticed the car turn into our close, I could have hidden at the back of one of the houses that have no walls until it passed by and it was clear to proceed.

I cried, tossed and turned. God has always protected me all these years. I have attended functions and even church conferences where I would be travelling late by public transportation. Never was my safety compromised. I believed that I was always protected by a higher power. Besides once you are in the hood, you are cool.

I managed to get some shut eye only to wake up at the break of dawn. We went to search for my handbag with the hope that since I was literally broke the only thing that they would take is my phone and toss everything else. We searched for a long stretch. Hope was lost.

After some phone calls, my sister came to pick me up. We passed through the police station to report the case. This was just procedure but I had no faith in the police taking the matter any further or investigating the case. We proceeded to drop off aunty before I took refuge at my sister's house.

Fast forward today I am back to the place of betrayal. While they don't owe me anything, I do resent my neighbours. Love thy neighbour only suits them when they need contributions or they want to borrow money or sugar. But when I screamed for help they kept their silence. The hand of the divine did work since no weapons were used neither rape involved. But what if?

I hate this place. Every time I return from work even if it's as early as 6.30 pm or 7, I have to Usain Bolt to our house. The moment that the sun sets while I'm at work my heart beats fast and my stomach is boiling like a volcano about to erupt. Anxiety? Fear? I can't stand to have a car close to me worse still car lights flashing at me. It's worse when I drop off in the hood. My mind is plotting on what inanimate object can I pick up and use as a weapon. I have to play out kicking, punching and biting.

I wish that I had hot sauce in my bag too. I would swing that bat at that creature that tries to further my insecurities. I would punish them for violating not only my physical space but my mental strength. It's hard to explain to people why I can't attend their events even if they are important to me or good for my job. I wrestle with the demons in my head. That unknown face that jumped out of that small white car and took away not only my property but my sense of well-being.

I'm 4 foot 9, I have no form of self defense training. I was often bullied because of my size and if I do fight, I fight with words. Do I still believe in God after all of it? Yes I do. Even as I walk in fear to and from work. I feel safer at work. I feel safer at my sister's house. But not the place that I had called 'home'. Not in the neighbourhood where I believed that 'ubuntu' dwelt - hell no! I feel watched from the moment that I drop off at the bus stop and even as I enter the gate. I am always gasping for air when I enter the house. If I see flashing lights from a car that's passing by, my body stiffens. I crab walk to search for the safest place to wait until that car passes and the coast is clear. I feel death, a little bit, but it's a dark cloud that hovers my head. It's an aching feeling as my eyes well up with tears when I think that I have to go back 'there'.

Nobody knows this but me.

Is this to prepare me for more dangerous cities in the world? Do I have to go through a physical PTSD after recovering from an emotional one? I take it one day at a time. The battle is only mine and mine alone. Nobody knows this but me.

The bigger question is...how do I live like this? For how long will I suffer the torment before regaining peace of mind? Will I ever feel fearless security?

God I want to know, how do I live?

Whilst searching the resolve to all this...

Always write your own love story.

Ciao!

Lady E

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