CHAPTER EIGHT A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

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CHAPTER EIGHT

A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

From the Mountain to the City Lights

My dream of staying in Windhoek was slowly turning into a nightmare.

Once again, I was in a situation where I had no control.

Cota Ma-Cups drove fast. I screamed. I shouted. I tried to open the door. But the car would not stop.

Then he did something that froze my blood.

He reached into his side and placed a 9mm pistol on the dashboard.

I became silent.

I cried quietly.

In that moment, I truly believed I was going to die.

“Why have you abandoned me, God?” I whispered inside my heart.

Then he said words I will never forget:

“I am going to rape you. Nobody disrespects me the way you and your cousin did. I am Cota Ma-Cups,  a respected man in Angola. I will teach you a lesson.”

He laughed.

“If you want money, take it. But if you try to run, I will deal with you.”

We arrived at a house I did not recognise.

It was dark.

Far from the city lights.

Quiet.

Too quiet.

He ordered me out of the car.

My legs were shaking.

He dragged me upstairs into a bedroom.

I was already wearing a short dress. I felt exposed. Weak.

He slapped me.

Hard.

He pushed me onto the bed.

I screamed.

I begged him to stop.

But he did not listen.

He forced himself on me.

He did not know I was still a virgin.

He did not know how painful it was.

I thought this was the end.

Then suddenly,

A loud crack.

A bottle smashed.

He fell to the floor.

For a second, I thought it was his wife.

But when I looked carefully, I saw a young woman standing there, crying.

Behind her,

Ndjona-Top.

Kenaa.

Tjipaa.

They had followed us.

Ndjona-Top ran to me and wrapped a towel around my body.

I cried uncontrollably.

Cota Ma-Cups was on the floor, shaking.

Kenaa quickly checked his pulse.

“Guys… I think he is not breathing,” she said.

“How do you know?” Tjipaa asked.

“I am studying nursing,” Kenaa replied.

Silence.

Fear.

Shock.

The young woman who had hit him began to speak.

“My name is Natacha. I am from Angola. This man brought me here when I was young. He promised me work. Instead, he kept me here. He and his friends raped me many times.”

My heart broke.

She looked at me.

“I could not let him hurt another girl.”

She said she would go to the police and report herself.

No.

We could not let her do that.

If he was dead…

Everything would change.

Our lives.

My dream.

Everything.

Ndjona-Top took control.

“We clean up. We leave nothing behind.”

Her voice was calm but strong.

We wiped surfaces.

We removed traces.

We moved carefully.

Then Ndjona-Top said something unexpected.

“He keeps money under the bed.”

And she was right.

There was a bag full of cash.

She looked at Natacha.

“Take the money. Leave. No one knows you. Go back home. Start a new life.”

Natacha hesitated.

But she took it.

And disappeared into the darkness.

We drove away in Tjipaa’s Mercedes.

In the back seat, my cousin held me tightly.

For the first time, I felt her love, not the party girl, not the wild cousin, but the protective sister.

We were silent.

Then suddenly, Tjipaa stopped the car.

Turned off the engine.

We all hugged each other.

Ndjona-Top spoke softly:

“For the Ozonduna Sisterhood, what we do, what we say, stays with us. It dies with us.”

We placed our hands together.

And made a vow.

I joined.

By choice.

As we drove to Tjipaa’s house, my mind would not rest.

What if he was not dead?

What if the police found out?

What if we were seen?

I could have reported it as self-defence.

But Natacha had acted first.

She had saved my life.

How could we betray her?

Still, I could not ignore the truth.

If this came out…

My dream of becoming a lawyer would be over.

My mother’s heart would break.

At Tjipaa’s house, everything looked normal.

Her mother gave us biscuits and juice.

Her stepfather had just returned from a trip to England.

He told Tjipaa they needed to talk later.

Something about his hand gesture made me uncomfortable.

But I stayed quiet.

We all said, “The night was fine.”

Lies.

More lies.

Later, as we tried to sleep, I could not.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Cota Ma-Cups on top of me.

I felt his weight.

His breath.

His anger.

I woke up sweating.

Shaking.

I stood up to go to the bathroom.

I was still in pain.

I needed to check myself.

To make sure he had not taken something from me.

I whispered,

“Thank you, God.”

As I stepped out of the bathroom, I saw something strange.

Tjipaa was not in the room.

I saw her walking toward the guest rooms outside.

Maybe she also could not sleep.

I waited a few minutes.

Then I followed her.

The door to the guest room was slightly open.

A small lamp was on.

And what I saw inside…

Made my heart stop.

A big man.

On top of a small child.

Both frozen when they saw me.

My mouth opened.

“Aayee, mbwae tjiri nu!”

(No, my dear, seriously!!)

The world spun again.

Another secret.

Another darkness.

And I was standing right in the middle of it.

The End of Chapter Eight

Wait for Part Nine as A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING continues…

CHAPTER SEVEN A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

 

A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

Continue Reading…

CHAPTER SEVEN

A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

From the Mountain to the City Lights

Before I could even take a shower, my cousin called again.

“Wa register hapo, ongwaiye tji uhina okutoora ongoze yandje hapo?”

(Did you register? Why were you not answering my calls?)

I started stammering.

“I… I… I just woke up now.”

There was silence for a moment.

“I called you this morning,” she said. “You said you were getting dressed.”

My heart sank.

I must have spoken while I was still asleep.

“Hikuvaze owazara meya nambano,” she continued.

(Can I find you dressed? I am coming now.)

Before I could think, I heard a taxi hooting outside.

She had already arrived.

We rushed to UNAM.

It was already after 17h00.

The campus was still full of students standing in long queues, trying to register.

My head was still heavy from the hangover, but I tried to act serious. I drank a Red Bull and a lot of water, hoping to feel better.

My cousin took me straight to the SRC office.

Inside, a young man was sitting in a leather chair, talking to some girls.

“This is Tusu,” she said. “SRC for Entertainment and Recreation.”

He looked confident. Calm.

My cousin asked the girls to leave because she needed to talk privately.

The girls left reluctantly. I could see it on their faces, they did not want to go. Tusu was attractive, like a prince in his own kingdom.

After they left, my cousin handed him my documents:

My admission letter.

My bursary letter from the Namibia Law Society.

And N$7500 for registration.

“Please help her,” she said.

He smiled at me and shook my hand firmly.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

His eyes were beautiful, and for a moment, I forgot everything else.

As we were leaving, my cousin said quietly,

“Make sure you do it. You know I know where your room is.”

At that time, I thought she was joking.

As we walked around campus, I noticed how popular my cousin was.

“Hi NT!” people called out to her everywhere.

NT, Ndjona-Top.

Everyone knew her.

Everyone respected her.

But I still felt out of place.

The way people dressed…

Makuzu o swagga.

(Meaning they had style.)

I felt like a village girl.

But I tried not to think too much about it.

We went to the cafeteria to eat.

My cousin told me that this was where lecturers usually sit.

The place was calm. Clean. Quiet.

People looked older, more serious.

I felt nervous.

I was afraid my Otjihimba accent would come out if I spoke.

This place was different from Okambashu-kovahimba, where everything was loud, free, and wild.

As we waited for our food, my cousin looked at me seriously.

“Listen,” she said.

“That place, Okambashu-kovahimba, is for girls who pretend to have class, and boys who waste money.”

She leaned closer.

“We are not like them.”

“You met Kenaa and Tjipaa. We call ourselves 3 Ozonduna.”

(Ozonduna means the top girls.)

“We are the girls of this campus.”

“If a man wants you, he must treat you like a diamond.”

“And if he wants you, he must know he is dealing with something valuable.”

She paused.

“You have a free ticket to join us… because you are my cousin.”

“But you must keep up.”

“And remember, never give yourself easily. Unless he has something good to offer.”

I listened.

But deep inside, I felt confused.

All I wanted was to study.

To focus.

To become a lawyer.

But at the same time…

I could not lie.

The money.

The attention.

The lifestyle.

It was tempting.

Who gets N$4000 just for showing up at a party?

We finished eating and went to Tjipaa’s house in Klein Windhoek.

Her life was different.

Big house.

Luxury cars.

A Mercedes-Benz C63.

Range Rover.

Jaguar.

BMW X6.

More cars in the garage.

She lived like she had no problems.

Like life was easy.

Inside her room, they opened their phones and looked at pictures from the previous night.

I saw myself.

I looked drunk.

Lost.

Like I did not belong.

But they looked beautiful.

Perfect.

They were getting hundreds of likes.

Like celebrities.

“I chose the best pictures,” Tjipaa said. “The ones where you don’t look too much like a Himba.”

They laughed.

I smiled.

But inside… I felt something break.

“Do you have Facebook?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I only heard people talk about it.”

They looked at each other.

“We will create one for you,” Ndjona-Top said.

“And we will change your look.”

“New clothes. New hair. New life.”

“With us, boys will love you… and girls will envy you.”

Soon, everything changed.

New clothes.

New shoes.

New hair, 18-inch Brazilian hair.

A new iPhone.

A new identity.

We created my Facebook account.

My cousin posted pictures of us with the hashtag:

#MyCousinIsHotterThanYours

And the likes started coming.

Hundreds.

Just like that.

Windhoek was starting to feel like home.

Days passed.

I spoke like them.

I dressed like them.

I laughed like them.

Every day, I called my mother and told her everything was fine.

I did not tell her the truth.

My aunt also called often.

Sometimes, I wanted to tell her about Mr. Mbaa… Mr. Officer.

But I was afraid.

So I kept quiet.

By Friday, my aunt had been gone for five days.

She was coming back on Sunday.

But that night, the Ozonduna were going to an all-white party at Herero Mall.

I was ready.

I was part of the crew.

We arrived at around 02:00.

Me.

Ndjona-Top.

Kenaa.

Tjipaa.

And the men were there too.

Cota Ma-Cups.

Aju.

They always had money.

Bundles of cash tied with rubber bands.

This time, I noticed something.

Aju was Kenaa’s ex.

But he was also close to my cousin.

Nothing made sense anymore.

The party was big.

Music.

Lights.

VIP section.

Bottles arriving one after the other.

Cota Ma-Cups reserved the best place.

This time, he was gentle with me.

He spoke softly.

Told me about his businesses in Angola.

Complimented me.

“You are beautiful… u meu amor,” he said.

But now…

I understood.

My cousin pulled me away.

“That guy wants you,” she said.

I froze.

Everything made sense.

The money.

The attention.

The kindness.

It was never free.

I walked outside.

I needed air.

I needed to think.

But it was too late.

I was already inside this life.

I had taken the money.

I could not go back.

Suddenly, he came.

Cota Ma-Cups.

He grabbed my hand.

Strong.

Too strong.

Before I could react, he was pulling me toward his Range Rover.

I tried to resist.

But he was faster.

Stronger.

And before anyone could stop him…

We were already gone.

Driving into the night.

Fast.

Too fast.

And in that moment…

Fear took over me completely.

The End of Chapter Seven

Wait for Part Eight as A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING continues…