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

 

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

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CHAPTER THREE

A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

From the Mountain to the City Lights

I was sitting in the back seat of a Volkswagen Golf 7 in the city of lights,  mbwae. (Mbwae means “my dear.”)

I had never sat in such a comfortable car before. Only a few hours earlier, I had been sitting at the back of Mr. Mai’s Quantum taxi from the rocky and dusty town of Opuwo. My body was still sore from that long journey.

Mr. Brown Jersey turned slightly and said,
“We are just chilling for a bit, then we will go to Pioneers Park to look for your aunt’s house.”

I trusted him,  just a little. I did not know whether I was doing the right thing. I kept hoping we would soon reach my aunt’s house.

But instead, we stopped at a pub on the famous Clemens Kapuuo Street.

That was our “first stop.”

Inside, he ordered a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, lemon soda, and lime. For me, he ordered a Coke. We sat there for almost an hour. It was already past midnight.

He bought me a second Coke.

Then a third one.

After a few sips of the third Coke, I started feeling strange. My head became heavy. The room began to spin. The lights looked blurry.

I started leaning toward Mr. Brown Jersey without even realising it.

I felt his hands on me, on my breasts, on my body. I heard voices, fading in and out:

“I will deal with her today… This is Windhoek… the city with many streets…”

Everything felt far away. I wanted to move. I wanted to speak. But I could not.

The next thing I remember, I was standing. A strong arm was holding my back. I was being walked toward the car.

I was helpless.

And then,

I heard someone shouting my name.

“Nguaendomuua! Nguaendomuua! Nguaendomuua!”

Yes.

Now you know my name.

Nguaendomuua Muuaa wa Homba.

And this is my strange story.

The voice came closer.

It sounded familiar.

Through my blurred eyes, I saw her face.

It was my cousin.

And she was furious.

I had never seen her that angry before.

Suddenly, I was in the middle of a struggle.

On one side, my cousin was pulling my arm.

“Leave my cousin alone!” she shouted. “Do you want to rape her? You look like criminals!”

On the other side, Mr. Brown Jersey was still holding me.

For a moment, it felt like a battle over my life.

But Vemuu knows how to make a scene.

She shouted loudly. People started looking. The man finally let go of me.

Relief washed over me.

I was saved.

Although I was so dizzy that I thought I saw two Vemuus standing in front of me.

That is when I knew I had been drugged.

One of the men said,
“Ndjona-Top, leave your cousin in the car. She is fine. It has been a while since we chilled here on Clemens Kapuuo Street.”

Ndjona-Top, that is what her friends call her. My mother calls her that too. It means “the lamp on top.”

Another man said,
“Ndjona-Top, let’s go. We can lock your cousin in the car. I will keep checking.”

My cousin ignored them.

She helped me into her car.

“Sleep,” she whispered. “I am here.”

Those were the last words I remember before everything went dark.

I woke up in the early morning in a house I did not recognise.

I could hear Herero music playing loudly.

“Muatje kaminikirire… muatje kaminikirire…”
(Muatje kaminikirire means “child, greet for me.”)

My head was heavy.

After some time, I stood up and washed my face.

An hour later, I heard loud sounds from my cousin’s room, bang bang, boom boom.

Soon after, I saw her walking a man to his car.

“Don’t forget to e-wallet N$1500,” she said. “I need to buy things… maybe something for my cousin.”

The man got into his Golf 7 R and said,
“Okay, darling. I will e-wallet now.”

When my cousin later told me that the men I was with the night before were drug dealers, I understood what had happened.

I had been drugged.

I had not even spent one full day in Windhoek, and already I felt homesick.

So this was the city of lights?

Ndjona-Top had a flatmate named Kenaa.

She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

We greeted each other politely. That was all.

But remember her, she will appear again in this story.

My cousin came and sat next to me.

“What happened last night before I found you?” she asked.

I told her everything , from the moment I got off the bus.

She shook her head.

“That is why I do not go out with my iPhone,” she said. “Those bandits on Clemens Kapuuo Street steal phones. Even mine, mbwae tjiri.”
(Mbwae tjiri means “my dear, seriously.”)

When my cousin visited home, she spoke Otjiherero-Tjautua, the central Namibian accent. But here in Windhoek, she mixed Otjihimba and Otjiherero-Tjautua. You know that okusipera language, okusipera means a language accent.

I reminded her that I needed to go to Aunt Ngarii’s house before she changed her mind about letting me stay there.

Let me tell you something.

I am a beautiful girl.

Dark skin that shines.

If I dressed like my cousin and wore Brazilian hair like hers, you would think we were twins. Boys in my village used to stare at her whenever she came home for holidays.

Before we left, she gave me a small Nokia phone, okasaru or okandotja.
(Okasaru/okandotja means a simple phone.)

I did not care what type of phone it was. I just needed one.

We called my aunt and took a taxi to Pioneers Park.

As we drove, I asked myself,
“What am I going to say to my aunt?”

Ndjona-Top told me,
“Keep quiet. I will talk. Your aunt is not an easy woman.”

When we entered the house, my aunt was furious.

“Listen,” she said to my cousin, “what you are teaching Nguaendomuua is wrong. I do not like it. You expose her to men. Do you want her to behave like you?”

My cousin did not stay silent.

“Aunty Ngarii, I am working. I am a chief accountant at Tereka Trading CC. How would you know how well I am doing if you chased me out of your house? Sometimes we have meetings with clients.”

My aunt said nothing more to her.

After my cousin left, my aunt called me into the sitting room.

“So where were you last night?”

I felt my heart drop.

I told her that Vemuu came to pick me up.

She looked at me with disgust.

“You will not tell me what to do in my own house. Your mother sent you here to study — not to sleep around.”

By then, my throat was dry.

“I called every number you gave me,” she continued. “One driver said he dropped you at Okabashu-Kovahimba. A security guard said you left with a grown man in a Golf. Do I look like an idiot?”

One of those numbers must have been Mr. Brown Jersey’s. He never answered.

I had made a terrible mistake.

This was not the first impression I wanted to give my aunt.

As I stood there, drowning in shame, she told me to go to the garage.

“There is a mattress there. Clean the kitchen first. You will sleep in the garage. I do not allow liars and whores to sleep inside my house. Your mother had to beg me to let you stay.”

She walked to her room and closed the door.

I stood there quietly.

Is this what I dreamed about?

Is this the life I imagined when I thought about the city of lights?

Tell me,

What would you have done?

As I lay on the mattress in the garage, staring at the dark ceiling, I whispered to myself:

“Welcome to the city… A Girl from Ehomba Mountain.”

The End of Chapter Three

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