Stroll of the Journey

  

                                                                    

                                                                         Introduction    
       

Our struggles and challenges in life don’t have to plant a forbidden seed for our tomorrow. Know your why? In life then you’ll figure out you how? Remember, the purpose of life is life with a purpose.

Never bottle your burdens but express them to your loved ones. You don’t know who you have healed by opening up. It’s like that scenario whereby a lecture asks, “does everyone understand what I have said”, and students reply and say “YES”. However there’s always that one person in a classroom who doesn’t understand but reality is, when you mislead you follow. Learn to stand your ground and achieve what you’ve always wanted to achieve. Not everyone who gets a 90% pass in class will make it. However that doesn’t  mean don’t study for your test in fact what it simply means is that, when you refuse to give up in life despite the circumstances that always knock you down ,you will make it.

Everyone says they willing to go the extra mile and beg to differ but almost no one actually does. Most people who do go there think, wait… No one else is here, start questioning their conscious and ask themselves,” why am I doing this?” and they leave, never to return.

That’s why it’s very important to know that the extra mile is such a lonely place. That’s also why the extra mile is an isolated place far from the ordinary filled with nothing but prosperous opportunities. The principle is simple and requires no genius to crack it, swallow your pride and except that you were lazy. It’s not giving up its called growing up. Be early, Stay late, send the extra email, do the extra research, make the extra phone call and over time that’s what will make you incredibly successful, No risk, No reward.

A wise man named Vuki Dlamini once said, “See the most important thing to do is to fall in love with the process. Say for instance you a size 42 waist size and you want to fit into a size 32, fitting into a size 32 doesn’t mean squeezing yourself into the dress in order for you to fit in it. What it simply means is that you need to then take the process of exercising in order to fit into the dress”.

Learn to think differently from other people. Be that person who utters wise words and tells people that the chicken came before the egg and that a circle has no ending because the way you think is very powerful and keeps people interested in knowing more about your character. What makes you exceptional from average people is the way you think. See average people allow time to impose its will on them; exceptional people impose their will on their time.

Everything happens for a reason whether failure or success. That person begging or using crack on the street corners was placed there by a choice they decided to pursue to fulfil their desires. Embrace every failure, own it, learn from it, and take full responsibility for making sure that next time things will turn out differently.

The satisfaction and fulfilment of small victories will give you the motivation to keep working hard. So think about it, when your bigger house is now just your house, New becomes the new normal. That’s because “things” only provide momentary bursts for happiness. To be happier, don’t chase for that paper. Chase for experiences. Someday you won’t remember what you had, but you will never forget what you did 

If anyone deserves thanks it’s YOU! Thank you for getting your Stroll of the Journey copy. We hope you enjoy reading the book.

                                                            Stroll of the journey I

Yesterday was supposed to be the day I finally face my fears. The great skies would open their grey matters to glimmer on my face. I was going to be strong and full of humorous grace as I take a broom and sweep her off her feet into my arms. But you can’t always have your dreams when reality is the stage of it all. The plan was pretty straight forward; get some cash from El Capitan (Pops) for the data and transport; take a taxi to the city and another taxi to Montana; wait for her arrival and finally get to meet her; book tickets for star wars and watch the great intergalactic series unfold while my hands become tactile with hers and lastly have a good meal with a kiss to top it all off.

The only problem is that life isn’t as it seems. Reality hits and smashes all the fantasies for my minds cervix, denying my children from ever getting a chance to grow up in the heat and splendour of the moment. We got to the sands and already the damsels were vexing their insecurities like a 3 year old diagnosed with mild claustrophobia ( the fear of being enclosed in a small place or room and having no escape). They moan about the malls size and how many humans can finally fit in such a space within a matter of eye blinks. I could handle their moans because I’ve already spent half of my summer bearing their femme-annoying attitude.

But good ol’ life had even more infortune for me. We got to the packed cinema to get some tickets and we found out that the star wars tickets were sold out. They were sold out until the following day and I just didn’t have the patience to wait when I’ve been waiting longer than Mandela’s stroll to freedom. We had to eventually settle for that Hunger games. A movie which was met with eagerness from the eldest damselette, we had some early dessert and I made one critical mistake that day by rekindling with caffeine. If you recall I have a weird reaction to coffee where one cup leads to nasty cramps and a visit to the toilet before I can even begin to feel the caffeine working in my system.

I began to have a problem where I was unable to stay awake to watch an entire movie. So, logic told me to order a cup of harmless Choco-chino coffee with ice cream. The ‘harmless’ part would be my down fall. After a couple of sips of some lukewarm coffee I felt like I could conquer it all – until the first quarter of the flick. My stomachs began to cramp and pain the living daylights out of my digestive system. By the half time, my farts left the cinema uninhabitable and the last cramp forced me to head out and go to the toilet. Now kids, I’ve always prided myself in being the cleanest as I can be. That also meant only using public toilets to excrete the number 1.

The latter did not apply that summer afternoon as I dashed all the way from theatre 7 to the cinema’s toilets. I got to the first cubicle and well, you how the story goes… Back from that experience I felt the worst; I started kick boxing myself for even choosing the cup of coffee when I knew very much that I should have never took it in the first place. I walked back to theatre 7 and retreated back to seat B1. The seating was quite peculiar because it only allowed for one to head to the exit on the right one of the room and not the right and left as a usual theatre like Sterland or that fancy one back in BK. The movie however only stirred the witches brew. 
The damsel began moaning yet again about how the movie is way too violent and how it’s just not good for us to consume. She now started spread her evangelical moaning to the mother board. MB, who takes into consideration also, has the same traits as her eldest dames also believed her story and spewed it to the Capitan. This moaning went on and on and they even went as far as saying the core fans of star fans who came wearing Han Solo costumes and Darth Vader helmets are masked gun men.

I know we live in a democratic country where her citizens practise their constitutional rights but why hit on entertainment. Fictional entertainment that is, you guys have watched violent scenes in soapies long before I was even born but only now when you guys are not in your comfort zone you cry foul. We’ve been playing video games with guns and gore before we popped pimples and seen dirty scenes of intercourse on television when we had no teeth and yet you guys condoned it.

I fail to fathom why they take the self-righteous and treat us like the criminals when we have been good to everybody around for as much as we can.
They are the ones who drink and smoke and claim they are godly but T.D Jakes only bred fools and I refuse to play a role when I know the truth. I’m not a know it all but when something feels good it’s not your gut feeling but actually god speaking to your from the howling winds that an opportunity is there and you must proceed and grab it. That’s something I don’t need to find from a pastor who needs cash to buy a new Boeing 747 or go on a holiday retreat to the tropics when you are out here promising the congregation that their tummies will be full if they contribute money to their crusade.

I don’t know, maybe the heavenly father sees this as sinner talk and some teen theologian might see this as the devil infiltrating my thoughts. There’s so much evil and sadness in this world and I for one cannot say that it doesn’t exist. I’m from the drug capital of the city and I know very well what happens when broken souls seek drugs to find solace. At the same time I’m conflicted because they were the same ones to tell me I should begin depending on myself for my own survival. Now all of a sudden they are switching the script to tell me that I need to find my survival in a 4 wall church, or better yet and synagogue somewhere in Nigeria made from a pillar of salt?

I choose not to question because I have my own faults but I the last thing I need is for my muses to be muted just so that they can feel better about themselves. I know how that feels and it’s the reason why I’ve gotten into a lot of fist fights with my peers because I’m not of the fabric they woven their souls with. I am me and I’ve endure a lot of pain to have the things that I have now. I went through those sleepless nights and early mornings just as hard as the damsel making skirts for clients with miscellaneous names. I don’t want to be better than her, neither worse but I want the world and the family to know that we are on the same playing field just separate ages. When I grow older I make a solemn promise to have an intimate relationship with my heavenly father. One where just like that bible verse the camp masters from Thaba Morula gave me and that’s to have no fear when the Lord is by my side. That bravery is what has enabled me to have 
A heart of a lion, to take risks in the mist of agony and defeat. This is the one bible verse that has kept me sane during those dreaded November nights and those horrid June mornings. From whoever is reading this you might think this is just teen rebellion. It’s not the hormones but just my soul knowing what’s real.

If you see me in a church building I’m only there for a baptism, a pretty girl or my funeral. Better yet I’m only going to be there for my own funeral. Draped in whatever whimsical outfit the funeral folks choose to define my last ride to heaven. Alright enough about the grey stuff. Let’s shift our focus to the end of my ballad. This one is set in a small loxion just a stone throw away from the J. we travelled there to go so me great uncle and the family. We got there and we arrived to their smiles. What I always loved about them in particular is that their happiness was always genuine. It was never ersatz.

They knew the true meaning of their smiles and they always made sure that the family always understood that even in the hardest of times when adversity is eating at our dark dining room. As years went by in the family money started to become a problem. Family members starting to fight against each other because they thought they were good for everybody else. This fighting left me not seeing my favourite cousins for many masses. Holidays that was great but in actual fact just painful. Nelson Mandela gave us a broom of forgiveness and we choose to sweep our problems under the carpet.

With my great uncle’s family what set them apart was just their goodwill. Even when living in such a neighbourhood they never saw the need to hide or be ashamed of whom they were. They also go to an evangelical church but they never saw the need to have to preach it to us or shove it down our throats like suburban kids refusing broccoli. We ended the day watching some soccer and my faithful Kaiser Chiefs went down 1-nil. Sad day it was but it was all needed to make sure that we learn from our misfortunes.

A quick drive home I crashed into my bed. Tomorrow was school and I had to wake up from La Vida Loca because it was time to go back to "jail." Everything is good, for now.
I walked up through Vom Hagen and caught up with my man Tiger. We’ve been friends before we even had words in our mouths. Reason why he had such a generic kasi name was all because legend tells that one day at a school outing at the zoo, he spooked a tiger of the pedestal by just growling – I’m not one to transform into Sherlock Holmes and dig up his past but Tiger is a name that would stick with him until God comes back with Tupac.

We walk into school with the summer sunlight shimmering on our eyes like we’re getting lucky with the sun. We got into a in-depth debate about the soccer watch that led me into moderate depression. “Chiefs players are pathetic bra, those guys are just horrible, how can we lose at the final yet again matha!” says Tiger with his gaunt figure starting to become the same size as my shadow. Looking around we saw began to see a changes that were a bit weird.
Environment has changed, half of the mighty oak trees that left a sundry of leaves back in autumn and gave us shade near the pavilion all feel down. I felt like the place was nude and it 
Was left with no chance of being clothed again. I heard a rumour from Julie Malate that half of teachers are going and we’re going to be left with some bewildered university student teachers. The last time we even had such, one guy went home in an ambulance van. Heck I even told Tiger that one guy is going to leave the school in an Assupol parlour van, it’s not easy to adapt to the newly recruited teacher. Nevertheless a normal school day just brings unexpected moments. It’s that six hour thirty minutes period of our teen lives consumed in that five period of the week.

With temptations to face within a day sometimes it’s very hard for the flesh to resist what the mind allows it to desire. Yes, sometimes a single whisper to the ear is enough to overpower a negative decision. With all the serious kids completing the normal day having avoided trouble the mischief-makers still remain in content on what decision to turn back to.

However here we are, we keep focus and try to remain in our lane and try not to be over taken. As break time re-unites us as one again. This is the time we get to express how our weekend was with friends and colleagues and all the drama of the weekend however not everyone does the meetings as others go face their fears of asking out their long lasting crushes, some taking control of their small illegal underground businesses and some well let's just say an unknown agenda.

Interrupted by that loud bell while busy with our own activities we feel as though the break can be eternal...the worst normal day can be a double Maths Period after that hot break. With our stomachs full, faces’ drooling of sweat...it’s so expensive to buy that last concentration to learn that equation or maths sum and sleeping becomes an option.

With the last 4 double periods having ended it’s that goodbye again...united by the blue uniform it blankets a lot we keep inside. My only fear is that when these changes begin to take notice, the elephant in the room will trample us in a fit of hysteria and the last ring of the bell will be the swam song when we’re long gone. Going back to our different backgrounds that we represent, the normal that we used to build our future has now departed as we now prepare for what the next unplanned day holds for us.

                                                   

                                                         Stroll of the journey II

Still Fresh from that sleep. I thank God for giving me a second chance to accomplish my mission. Either way starting of the day with a History lesson, the subject that many ran to hoping it’s easy but regret the decision later. As we pile up the knowledge we have acquired throughout the term and we get ready to answer the questions that will be thrown at us.

In a big class with approximately 35 learners it’s really hard to concentrate as you come across voices of both motivating and demotivating clashing creating a world that's facing war of good versus evil. Sitting next to my classmate I look at him through the eyes and first thing that intrigues the mind is Challenge. Something that this world is all about nowadays.

As the History teacher walks in we get ready to work and build our future although it’s not everyone's target but everyone has to work to get that bit of percentage on their report that will represent them. Well like they say, sometimes you need to do something you don’t like to get what you like.

History for Grade 12 especially the South African one, is all about how our political activists fought for the liberation of our freedom for us to enjoy our future . The subject needs great bond and understanding just like when you in a relationship with someone who understands and knows the number of hair on your head. As the day unfolded the end of the school day was approaching with every lesson having being attended I had to face the subject that sat on the throne with no favouritism whatsoever, Mathematics. However the best thing was that this was the last period before breaking into the long awaited weekend. On Friday we would go to a place called House22 in Pretoria just to go ease our minds a bit and talk about what happened during the week.

While having whisky with rocks in it, having a decent conversation with the guys, some depressed man walked in looked straight at our table, walked to us and strangely asked to join us, “ errr.. Yeah sure why not?” he took a deep breath and sat down. Few minutes later after having joined us he randomly asked with a deepened voice, “ what has happened to love guys, I mean why would she leave me for some rich guy who’s got nothing but riches for her and not love?”,

We all Stared at him curiously and with my eyes glued to his hands as he shivered while holding the glass, I stupidly joked with myself and said’ “ yeah man, that’s what’s going to happen if she reads Steve Harvey’s Think like a woman, Act like a man. The book had so many tricks and laws which put guys on the line and through them under the bus if they failed to comply with the relationship laws.

However I bravely asked him, do you still love her? Looking down he thought about it for a second and replied “YES! Of course I do, she’s my everything and my world is dark without her. With sadness and disappointment portrayed on his face he stood up and said, “Cheers gentlemen it was good hanging around and he left in such a weird manner.

While staring him walk I had this flash back that gave my mind the upper cut reminding me that the very same man who complained about woman, is the same guy who was the master of his soldiers who listened to him and broke their will in every way to protect the master. What was strange is that this time around he came to the club without anyone of them and that left me with a question mark. What?? He forgot something on his chair, a Golden royal coin which looked very old and treasurable. Looking to my left then right, I decided to put it in my pocket and keep it moving.  We decided to leave the club and go outside with one of the guys to have a smoke. While outside one of those nyaope guys left burning the bin and creepily came to us, “Ehhh bosso kopela bois”
Meaning please give me R2 or some change to spare, the loner asked.

I replied with a nod on head and I reached out to the depths of my cotton pocket to search for gold coins. My finances weren't in tip top shape and I even considerd giving my wallet steroids to get the coins jingling again. One person who didn't take kind to my humour was the loner.

He goes by the name of wolf as some of us know him. He has a full name but nobody found it necessary to process his characters into our minds storage component. You ask why? Teenagers are by the most superficial creatures to have ever had the privilege to absorb oxygen on the planet. Scratch that on the entire Kepler solar system. We adore tags like art pieces. Each barcode a work of art in our pursuit of emotional dominance over another being.

Wolf was the exception. His origins are yet to be determined but from first impressions he carried the eyes of a righteous. Hazel pupils surrounded by a pool of red like ink as if he is a bull during mating season. He had a hunger for something and I'm not quite sure what it was. It was one that had sole nourishment and food wasn't the obvious.

It was something way more sinister that our imaginations could fathom. He had a dream, a dream to end all the pain, end all the suffrage at the hands of beings who thought they were just trying to light up the mood but in honest jest they dimmed the lights on him. That period we were all about to witness a threshold being popped high towards age sky and red rum being the drink for our distinguished guests.

                                                

                          

                                                            Stroll of the Journey  lll
      

Well arriving home at 01:00 am in the morning I quickly took my shoes and went to bed. Sleep wasn’t my friend that moment and mosquitos also nosing around the room to get that last drop of blood from my system. I stretched my arm across and drank my sleeping pills to rest and prepare for a new day in a couple of hours.

While dreaming, that coin just kept messing with my sleep. I really wanted to dream about the girl of my dreams who had friend-zoned me for the second time but I just kept dreaming about that golden coin which over powered my sleep and left me vulnerable to any nightmare attack. The moment would’ve been like those crazy daily sun headlines you would always bump into and fail to believe. It was real, the coin interrupted my sleep.

During the dream the coin decided to pick ten of my mistakes that were not intentional but very harmful and were based on how I my hurt my loved ones. It was unseemly of the record to what extensive point the coin wanted to prove however, this was nothing new under the sun and the boy had to Re-live his mistakes to avoid the life of no luck. 

Through the deepest darkest days of this young man’s life, the mistakes were played like a countdown "channel O" hit fresh programme that pledged no absolute remorse nor forgiveness. The coin dwelled on the first mistake which was merely similar till the seventh mistake, basically these negative actions of the young lad involved all negative doings like back chatting to his History teacher for manipulating the black history and using derogatory terms like "VOETSEK!!"....well not to escort you further down the aisle because ahead was trouble. Through the first-seventh mistake it was merely duplications of his negative events like sexual harassments, bullying and even neglecting school work to an extent that his excuses were miraculously crammed always predicted by each of his teachers.

Well these were heavy burdens to carry that even the Coin itself could not even flip from heads to tail in order to save itself, it was like the Oscar Pistorius trial which took forever to reach its verdict to such an extent Omar Al Bashir visited Z.A and even left freely having eaten a full breakfast meal.

However still adding sugar to the cup of tea from the eight-tenth mistake were the final predicaments that led the coin to its decision to condemn this young man. The eighth was a coup which almost cost a young leaner her life after having encountered a severe Asthma attack. Moving right to the ninth was of the drug smuggling in school premises which included thunder cat, marawana and South Africa's well know Nyaope, WHAT!! Yes this was all in the name of hustling and surviving. Closing the list was the tenth which included evil gothic rituals which included the slaughtering of a chickens neck unleashing the blood and offering it as a sacrifice to the mysterious gods.

Reminiscing earlier the coin reached a judgement that unfortunately these mistakes could be seen as consciously intentional and unintentional was a very basic term to be used. Therefor to avoid going through the eternal life of darkness in the lion’s den, his mistakes had to be re-lived to ensure a prosperous chance of nothing but full of luck.

Poetry was a way of me shifting from what my thoughts had been locked in and to emancipate them into the real world. I mean after all I was an ordinary young black man with everyday challenges to overcome.  I had to work double the amount as that white kid from the estates kilometres away from my neighbourhood just to put bread on the table.

The dream wanted me to re-live my life with a solution of fixing my dreams. However it was just another setback. Just like how the olden day white imperialists kept black people captive and forced them into slavery. The coin had nothing special for me other than making me feel inferior and unworthy towards life.

Loving myself was complicated. I remember looking at the mirror and self-questioning myself about what had I committed to condemn myself to such a situation. Everything was just dark, No one could relate, hence bottling up was the only ideal plan. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, I threw the vase against the wall and as emotionally exhausted as I was, I fell on my knees.

Coincidentally I found my dusty all book underneath my bed and I opened it, *coughs* the dust had just taken over. I wiped it, opened it and started reading my old poems I had written every time my resentments turned into deep depression attacks. That was it, I grabbed my wooden chair in the room and started reminiscing on the past and creating vivid imaginations of how could write my next poem. I Just hoped what I was about to write would be a healing to someone else who went through the same situation I went through.

                                                                 Stroll of the journey IV

I used to love writing poetry. Poetry was always a way of escaping the realities of the city I found myself in. It was a way to take pictures of the poignant moments and let them boil into a wax canvas like state. It allowed me to be a master, just for a sec'. Being the master of my own views, my own thoughts and my own visions about the world.

Tonight is damsels matric dance. You would think I'm probably out there dancing or trying out new dances all under the slight intoxication of teen spirit. But, that's not the case. I'm at home, lying in my study room looking up at the roof, imagining that the bulb lighting up my quarters is a disco bulb. Rotating with light bouncing of the walls to create an illuminate atmosphere.   

Looking at the bulb I wonder what would have happened if wasn't this way. If I didn't have so much baggage like I’m attempting to travel to the future. Or have this many insecurities which always finds a way to pop up and remind me that I'm not in character. Or maybe if I was a bit more attractive and showed more intent into actually getting into the home run.

I guess I was just comfortable with the first base, it’s probably the only base I know (or will attain). I get it, I should be, pre confident and be less self-pitiful of myself. But looking at the city and the way the streets grew its children, I feel the kids nowadays would rather root for the bully then even wave a flag for the quiet kid at the corner of the school yard who actually found the voice to fight back.

The bulb in many ways is just a reminder of the life once promised. I feel like the more times I commit to my work and my family I lose grip of her. The warm embraces, the hallway-kisses-that-make-the-other-kids-jealous moments, the late night and late morning texts before math class and just the idea of having someone actually say that they love you are the things I'm losing.

Trying to find all those stuff with someone else will be like taking the 25th century man and telling him to crawl back into the ice age phase. Being a creative and loving human is the reason why life is like this.

A creative because I've written and narrated so many poems and essay for guys and girls to heighten their love that I almost forgot to take care of myself. I remember one time on a gloomy March afternoon I escorted my friend Ella to the mall just so that she could meet up with her boyfriend. They kissed and made out while I was on lookout duty for them. The plan was that they meet and head to the roads in 30 minutes - but the proceeded to have oral sex for an hour and a half.

They took longer than expected and I got back home to my mom hurling at me for not saying that I will be home a bit later. I later also found out that El-Capitan and my younger brother drove around the neighbourhood looking for me. It left a bad feeling because the least I want to do is actually hurt the people who've loved me for so long. At the same time Ella took care for me back when I had to fight my own metal bullies and I didn't want to disappoint her.

But what I learned from all of that was trying to do the right thing will only ruin your life. Trying to be that quiet kid will just make life more complex than it is. My family is angry at me and in the eyes of my "bros" I just bought myself a first class ticket into the friend zone - scratch that eternal family zone with no chance of escape or conditional release. The same applies with Damsel, I should have been more assertive and told her that I should be her date and not some best friend who couldn't make up her mind about not going.

I'm coming off selfish but I waited for the moment, just like I waited to meet up with her back in late summer. I was willing to get a job and save up for a decent funeral suit. With crocodile shoes and a suede tie just to keep things weird. That's just how much hunger I had for the moment. Now I just lost my appetite and I might not be eating for the next 3 light-years. 

Poetry should have fixed things up, it should have healed me and given me a nice place at moan about my problems and let the ink in my Bic pen be the tears. It should have allowed alliterations, assonances and anthropomorphism's to show apathy to my angry self. I’m suffering from a writer’s block which I can't even use a psychedelic sound to break through.       

                                                                 Stroll of the journey V

Saturday had passed, Sunday I attended church and kept running around the circle of hope that one day people would learn to work hard and earn blessings rather than being allowed to be sprayed by Doom and pretending everything was just everything. Church was like the fashion show that took place in the streets of Paris. As all ladies wore their miniskirts and put on their 2cent mac lipsticks which they said symbolised beauty. It was pandemonium, I began questioning the questioning if really was this the place where I could be redeemed and healed because of my sins. AMEN! The pastor closed of the service and was off going home.

I had to walk a distance and had to cross the bridge to get home. While walking I saw a group of these crack maniacs siting under the bridge and monitoring my move. I was not entertaining their presence and kept moving. As one approached, he then called me “yewena san” meaning hey you, what’s the time. I stood and shouted “TIME TO GET YOUR OWN WATCH” the chase began and I was caught within a blink of an eye. Saying my last prayers interanlly they decided to take my phone that had the numbers of the girl in my perfect dreams who had friend-zoned me and I didn’t understand why these things all occurred and changed the way my wall was written. Life had just bullied me and made contain the survivors guilt with no confident questioning.

Monday morning struck with a bang and all that happened the previous day had to be forgotten. Damsel noticed my face was a mess, “hey what happened to you” with a changed accent. I took a deep breath and replied “Forget it man, I fell of malomes bicycle”. With a suspicious face Damsel looked away and went to the quad. It was a lukewarm day in class the autumn leaves subtly fading on the ground as they look at the previous glory. The class is full of glee, everybody is in a good mood and the jocular of the day is Gift at the front when he got whiplashed by the principal.

Such gore but we laughed at it, who knew we would be laughing at our own demise. "Alright class settle down, we got to start working, the exam is in a couple of weeks and I know you guys need to do your best." said Mr Ngobeni.

With his shirt tucked in and his shoes gleaming he always came to the job with his best foot forward. But I could sense something was wrong amongst all this happiness. My stomach began having butterflies, they weren't the ones you got when you start staring at your wanderlust but the type that tingles your senses to warn you that something is up.

With all type of mysterious feelings and reactions tackling my body, the blood within me started running up my body leaving my feet cold. Two body builded Nigerian accent men loudly intruded our lesson armed. "MXM AHH EVERYBODY ON THE FLOOR NAAH!!” the two instructed. With no choice but to go down on the floor.

While on the floor it intrigued my conscious how on earth would these two be welcomed in our territory of learning armed. I remember having watched Chuck Norris and The Expandles a week ago at the cinemas and quickly I decided to emulate what the heroes of the film did. I stood up "HEY YOU!”

However I was still warned and instructed to lay down. With a rebellious attitude I silently asked myself this, what’s the definition of a will? And the answer was come on, it's a dead giveaway!

The count down from one of the intruders began 3...2...1... "BAAAAM". Every student screaming and traumatised from that quick incident that bullet had actually made a way through to my shoulder, and as I was on the floor I saw a golden Jain with a round shape around the man’s neck.

OH MY WORD! It was the coin, the Royal 1850 coin which belonged to the Master who requested every one of his soldiers to find the coin before they could sleep. Powerless as I was my eyes just shut down due to my body beginning to lose a lot of blood. I laid low as the perpetrators took Mr Ngobeni's  Gold treasure box and found the escape door, the question was how dis that coin get back to them and how far till I would survive from that bullet, everything just didn't puzzle up. On the other side of the road time was running out and only God knew what would happen next.

To be continued…

                                                  

By: Oarabile Mashigo ft Pule          Letshwiti

       
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