Chapter 1
You know,there's this phrase that says,distance yourself from negativity. But what do you do when negativity follows you everywhere you go? Firstly,I got infected by HIV from birth. I understand that in my mother's generations there was no PrEPs', that's why I'm not mad at her. But discovering that you have to take ARVs from the age of fifteen is huge setback.
It's traumatizing and no child should ever go through that.Having to attend home school because i got bullied every chance I got when the news spread that I have HIV. Everyone insulated themselves from me , afraid that i would "infect them" as they would say. But keh,this is life.
Now, I'm waking up with a heavy head. My dad used to shave me bald when I was young. My mom would always complain on how my dad shaved my hair while he knew very well I've got a watermelon head. I always laughed at the statement until now. When my mom bought all sorts of hair products to help grow my hair, my dad shaved it when it grew. His excuse was always that my hair is reddish on the top, new black hair will grow. Funny thing is that,my hair is still reddish until now. He gave up.
I look around me, balancing this watermelon head with my left hand. It's dark and the only light I see is on a spotlight on the first person, far in the line. It's that girl with skimpy clothes. There's another girl next to her, and the next and the next. We are lined up, I'm the 7th one if I'm not mistaken.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome again to our today's auction. You know how it works, we'll start with this one. She's curvy as you can see. O montle le lona la iponela. Starting on R120 000, who wants her?" The voice on the mic startles me.
Its David. This is only when i realise we're on stage and being sold off to the highest bidder.
My God, why do I always make the wrong choices?. I always want to be seen so much that I don't think sometimes. I let go of my head to look around.
"I'll take her for R150 000" a husky voice says. What are we?Potato sacks?
"R150 000 going once, goin..." David the potato seller says.
"R200 000" a voice of a woman says.
What?Are there women involved in this?I understand that everyone hustles the best way they know how but i didn't expect this from a woman. I surely didn't.
"R200 000 going once, going twice...Sold!"David. The sound echoes in the hall.
"Do you really have to yell???" I use all of my left energy to say. If I die I die. I think i used to fall a lot on my head when I was young. I have a chatterbox of a mouth and I know it will get me killed one day. But no, I'm betting on my ancestors to bail me out this time. I mean, I have last visited them in 2012 for Mphoyabadimo to please them with my dad's favourite whisky bottle in winter. Imagine waking up at 3am in winter just to go feed the underground gang meat and alcohol.
David ignores me. I hear some murmurs in the dark downstage. I was silently praying that they do not skip all these girls to come to me since I talk too much.
From now on , I am shutting my mouth up.
I think I have to go back home to communicate with my ancestors. But nje I don't think they care. I noticed that the last time I was chased on the street by a pitbull naked when the wife of the man i fucked caught us on bed, doing BDSM. Luckily there was an open house down the street. I ran inside and closed the door. It only dwelled on me that I was naked when I found a pair of 12 eyes staring at me. That was the baddest day of my life I tell you. The aunt borrowed me her clothes and I had to go back to my place looking like a widow. I used the doek she gave me to cover my face like those wives of cheating men do when they go confront the side chicks. I only laughed at my flat when I remembered that the nigga was cuffed. I hope the wife used that whip to whip his ass for telling me his wife was dead.
Fuck!My mind is the stupidiest part of me. It's my turn already. I'm scared yes , but there's nothing i can do right now. As for Bra God, I can't ask him for anything because i had last de-registered my name from heaven books a long time ago.
"R50 000 for this one..anyone?" David says.
Nxa, his mother is the one who can be sold for R50K.
I give him a side look.
"R100 000" a voice says.
Yes , that's my boy. Akere I can't free myself? The least they can do is to sell me to the highest bidder. I can't be sold for a mere R50 000. Not when I'm going to service people i don't know. Or even become a slave. But i don't think slave trade is still a thing now.
"R200 000" another person says.
"R200 000 going once , going twice...Sold!!" This pot bellied fool announces.
Sigh, God never loved me. This is my fate. I'm doomed.
