Mangled Shoes

CHAPTER 1

05 August 1961, A dark and tempestuous night on the streets of Katutura Deborah just performed an unsafe and illegal act that left the nameless and loathsome bony naked to rest in a latrine. "Is there any difference between myself and a habitual criminal?" The thought of being locked up behind bars crosses her mind as she walks back home from the illegal back alley close to the market. It wasn't my decision alone, though Mohammad reassured me that we were far too young now. He is barely over twenty; there's no way he can provide for a child, and I'm only sixteen. Could I have been any more inconsiderate?

A conceivable ghoulish tossed away in a dark alley. With the harmless young fighting inside her womb, little kicks, and scratches with the little fingernails leaving finger mails, what was once a womb now became a tomb bearing its dreams. Finally, she approaches a distant flat-topped hill close to home, the street is filled with exotic local houses. The bestial and the foolish sit at shebeens drinking their night away, not knowing a thing about what happens in the lives of their children. "They are just children", they reckoned, oblivious to the fact that children are reckless and irresponsible.

At the end of the flat-topped hill lies a deep pit; in front of her there's a rusty, rickety, big gray gate, and while opening it, she can't help but feel mixed emotions. She feels relieved, anguished, empty, broken, and used, but as long as they are still together, her happiness is his happiness. The typical mind of a teenage girl is numb, naive, and mindless.

Soulmates and soul ties gave him a piece of her sanity; now she's no longer a saint. Learning how to love herself, hoping people don't think it's vanity. Her mother hollers at her from inside the living room window.

"Where are you coming from at this hour?" "Come on inside this minute, Debbie; it's not safe on these streets."

Deborah quickly rushed inside. She got into bed that night knowing that she had committed haram; this was the reward for her disobedience.

She knew that if her mother heard of this, she would immediately regard it as a disgrace to the whole household. It would be nothing more than a huge embarrassment. She thought to herself as she silently fell asleep. The following morning, Deborah woke up to the sound of three little birds chirping: one near the window, another in the tree, and the third one taking flight. "

Ugh, another day to go out and face the world. Well, here goes happy-go-lucky."

She said this with one foot inside the bed and the other on the carpet. Her mother was in the kitchen preparing her famous "English" breakfast: two sausages, one on the sunny side, toast, and a bowl of fruits on the side with either coffee or tea.

While devouring breakfast, Deborah's mother, Ms. Mwahalukze, began making an awful fuss over Deborah's late return home the previous night.

"Get over here and eat your food! I don't want to hear a single word from your mouth. This is the last time that you will return to my house at that hour. Are we clear?"
"Yes, m..."
Before she could finish, her mother cut her off.
"Not a single word from your mouth; now go on and eat your food."

After breakfast, Deborah returned to her bedroom to get her bag. She heard her phone vibrate from beneath her pillow. It was Mohammad; he had sent her a text message that read:

"My dearest I'm sorry that I haven't come to see you since the incident. Baby, I'm barely over twenty. Where am I going to get that money? I refuse to bring our boy or girl into this world when I don't have anything to give them. I want to spend my whole life with you. Please come see me this afternoon. I'll make it up to you."

She was overwhelmed; it had been a while since she had last heard from him. She needed to see him; it would make her feel a lot better. They agreed to meet that afternoon.