Oyama: Her Story

CHAPTER 61

The gym smells of sweat and determination, the air thick with the sound of punching bags being hammered and weights clanging. My mind races as I change into my gym clothes, stashing the duffle bag into a locker far from my usual spot. No one pays me any mind—everyone’s too wrapped up in their own grind. But my heart is pounding. Ninety grand in cash. My hands shake for a moment, and I clench them into fists.
“Don spar” says James.
I walk to the sparring mat; we are the only 2 on the mat tonight.
Which is rare, but it is what it is.
I walk onto the mat, “Play California Love!!!” James shouts.
The current song stops and the California Love beat starts the Trumpets and Cymbals ringing. I nod my head, as I put on my Mouth guard and breath deep in and out. I walk closer to him and fist bump him.
We walk in circles.
I move forward and do a Spinning Tornado kick, missing.
We again walk in circles.
I jab.
He slips.
He jabs.
I slip.
I dance around a bit and do a step in jab.
He moves out the way.
He does the same step jab.
I move in the opposite direction catching his arm and landing a clean lead uppercut and then a blow to his midsection.
He groans.
He moves closer and lands a clean shot to my ribs, and then my face.
He tries to go for roundhouse, but I catch it and roll, bringing us to the floor.
I immediately dive in and land a shot on his face.
We both shuffle to stand up and look at one another.
He goes for a strong cross. Which I block, but he goes down for an Iminari roll, he catches my leg and brings me down.
He gets my legs in a lock forcing to tap out.
We stand up and he pulls me in for a hug, “Never pull a gun on me again” he whispers in my ear.
I nod. His words chilling down my spine. The gym starts clearing out, the night settling over Pretoria. I quickly finish my part time duties.

I wait until most people have left before retrieving the bag. My hoodie hides the bulk as I head out into the chilly streets.
I stop a Taxi and open the door, “Le kae?” I greet.
“Re teng” says the same lady from yesterday.
The taxi ride is the same, its just the driver hooting and people asking to climb off.
I sit patiently waiting for my stop which is up ahead, “Left” I say and the driver stops.
I climb out and say, “Thank you” then close the door.
I walk down street the Apollo above doing its best to light my way, but ke kasi re tla era byang? Ba re bona ra sokola mara ha bana thaba(it’s the hood, what can we do? They see we are struggling but they don’t care). Mara come elections otla ba bona(you’ll see them).
I walk past the Tavern and wave when some of the elders see me.
They wave back.
“Ekse Pieter” I greet my neighbor who’s starting to roll a blunt.
“Ekse Don, ejoh awa tswara boys mo wena, ke shorta ka ya go fasa”(Yo Don, don’t you have a R2, I’m a bit short for paper) he says.
“Mara wena son, otswere ntwago fasa nou kani keng, and chalk yaka e kae?”(You have something to roll with, and where’s my R20) I ask.
“Ah wabona, tlogela thaba tsa kgale”(You see now, forget about the past) he says.
“Otlwa mfana o,”(Listen to this boy) I exclaim in disbelief and walk to the gate and open it. I get in the yard and walk to the door, I open and walk in, “Ekse ekse” I greet my brothers and now I can actually take a breather, because our life is gonna be much easier.
“Dingstang o smila so?”(Wassup why you smiling like that) asks Luca.
I wish I could tell, them, but they’d be against it. Our mother always moved us away from the life on the street. She made us know it doesn’t pay, but even though its wrong.
This life will ensure, that we have; No more hungry nights. No more holes in socks. No more rough nights. But firstly, I need to focus.
We need to fix the issue of school fees, with the money mama left we could cover the last 3 months of school fees. Lucas is on a Sports Scholarship for football so he’s sorted, me, Mandla and Thapelo, school fees is R750, multiply by 3, that’s R2250, multiply by 10 months, and that’s R22500.
I will pay, the rest of the year tomorrow, and then maybe go and buy some school shoes for Mandla, they are worn at this point.
Hai ke bophelo ba se gudzumela. Di bread winner tsa strata.