Mangled Shoes

Untitled Part 30

Deborah had been gone for a long time, and they were still baffled. What possibly could have made her leave? After all, she is just a young child.

A spoiled, obstinate, and ill-mannered child must have summed up what their neighbors thought of them. To an outsider, this kind of action appears to be disrespectful. Someone is always observing. Sometimes following our moral convictions does more harm than good. More damage is done to ourselves than to others.

Deborah gasped for air, with her back bent and nearly touching her knees. Followed by a heavy sob.

"How much longer?" She sobbed

How much longer before she would return to her village and apologize to her disordered family? Did she not realize that we do not get to choose our family?

As she lifted her eyes to see how much further the board read, she read 20 kilometers. There was such a long way to go. She had miscalculated the previous 5 kilometers. Deborah hoped a ride would pass by, one she could hitchhike in.

There was no turning back now. She could only see it through. The young lady was almost out of breath. Exhausted but not beaten. She was the perfect example of a Buffalo soldier. She stretched out under the sycamore tree. Deborah took a seat next to the sturdy furnishings. Here, she would wait for the bus for a short while. Maybe there was a bus to Gobabis that would take her. Two men suddenly materialized out of nowhere. A woman was approaching from behind them, and they were following her. They are walking as well. Their fair cheeks gleamed in the brilliant sun. They have to have been Nama-Damara or Khoisan. They have to have been Nama-Damara or Khoisan.

"Hey, jou lekker ding." Says the one man while placing his hands on his belt buckle.

"Wag eers kom ek gaan eerste." (Wait, let me go first.) She exclaimed the other.

Deborah lifted her head and turned to face the two men, not moving an inch. Precision and grace followed. Then she twisted her neck to the left and then to the right. Their lady friend joined in their conversation.

"Wat moet ons jou maak as jy mooi is?" (What should we do to you if you are pretty?)

Again, Deborah twisted her neck, then finally responded to their lady friend.

"En wat moet ek vir jou maak as jy mooi is?" (And what shall I do to you if you are beautiful?)

On these streets, it was all about the survival of the fittest. The three strangely clucked.

"Ai jy is darem sterk." (You are pretty strong, huh?) said the lady.

Deborah seemed so unbothered; she knew who she was with. To outsiders, she seemed reckless. However, there was a greater force within her. A force to be reconciled with. One that would never leave or forsake her.

"lyk vir my dis either julle se vir my waar kry ek 'n bus Windhoek toe or julle los my net uit."

(It looks like it is either you tell me where to get a bus to Windhoek or leave me alone.)