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

 

A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

Continue Reading…

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

From the Mountain to the City Lights

It felt like my heart had shattered into a million pieces — pieces that could never be put back together again.

Tjipaa had turned her back on us again, and Ondjona-Top was crying. I kept asking myself the same question over and over again: what was happening to us? Why was all of this happening?

Deep inside, I began to feel as if this was our punishment.

Perhaps it was punishment for covering up the death of Cota Ma-Cups.

First Kenaa had died in a terrible way at the hands of a jealous ex-lover. Then Tjipaa had fallen into a relationship with her own stepfather and used his money. And now my cousin Ondjona-Top was also caught in this complicated web of money and secrets.

I still did not know whether Ondjona-Top truly owed Papa Kille money. After all, he had given it to her willingly. He never clearly said whether she had to return it or keep it. But the truth was that Papa Kille had a reputation for beating women who “ate his money.”

My thoughts were racing.

I had come to Windhoek with a dream.

All I wanted was to live a simple but exciting life in the city and study hard for my Bachelor of Laws degree. Instead, I felt like I was giving too much of myself and receiving nothing but pain and disappointment in return.

Tjipaa finally spoke.

“Guys, I think you should leave now,” she said quietly. “Ndjona-Top, I am sorry for what you did, but Papa Kille has a history of beating women who spend his money. I do not know if I will ever forgive you if it turns out that you are the reason he comes after me.”

She turned her back on us again.

Ondjona-Top wanted to say something, but before she could speak, Tjipaa’s mother walked into the room. When she saw the tears in our eyes, she asked what was wrong. None of us answered.

Tjipaa quickly told us to leave and let her stay alone with her mother.

So we left.

As we walked down the hospital corridor, Ondjona-Top suddenly grabbed my hand.

“Muuaa,” she said nervously, “please come with me to the police station. I need to know whether I have to pay this man’s money back. I have spent money from men before, and I need to know whether I am guilty or not. Please come with me.”

Despite everything, she was still my cousin.

Even though I felt ashamed of the life she had lived with Tjipaa’s stepfather, I could not abandon her.

So I agreed.

At the police station, the policewoman who attended to Ondjona-Top was very kind. She asked gently whether this was her first time visiting the police station and how many times men had given her money like that.

My cousin’s answers were shocking.

Still, the officer did not judge her. She listened carefully, gave her some counselling, and took a statement.

Then she said something that surprised us.

“I do not think you are guilty,” she explained. “You did not force anyone to give you money. But tomorrow you must come back and speak to Detective Officer Mbaa. He might give you further advice.”

Ondjona-Top looked relieved.

As we left the station, she started bragging again.

“Oh ami,” she said proudly.
(Ami means “me.”)

“I always knew I worked smarter. I am a big girl in the capital city of the Republic of Namibia.”

Then she added confidently, “That means I do not owe Papa Kille anything, and he does not owe me anything either. Our situation happened more than a year ago. If I had done something wrong, I would already know.”

She took a tiny mirror from her handbag and started fixing her makeup.

I asked her where she was going.

She answered casually, “I am going to see Mr Kiswahili.”

That was the moment I lost my patience.

“Do you even understand what is happening?” I said angrily. “Tjipaa is lying in a hospital bed because she tried to kill herself. We just discovered that she spent Papa Kille’s money. And all you can think about is running to another man?”

We started arguing.

“Muuaa,” she snapped, “do not act like you are perfect. Because of me you have a fancy phone, an iPhone, and you look hot just like me. Did you not always say you wanted to look like me?”

She continued coldly, “Besides, Kenaa was my real friend. Tjipaa has always been like this. She is spoiled and loves attention. You saw how she turned her back on us. She does not want our help.”

I could not believe what I was hearing.

Ondjona-Top had always been the leader of the group, the one who encouraged the others into the lifestyle they were living. Now she was acting as if none of it mattered anymore.

This was not the time for us to turn against each other.

She asked if we could go to the Hilton for breakfast with Mr Kiswahili before going to school.

I refused.

Instead, I walked away and went to sit alone at Zoo Park.

When I reached the park, I felt like I needed to talk to someone.

Before I could think of anyone to call, my phone rang.

It was my mother.

I suddenly realised that I had not spoken to her in a long time.

The moment I heard her voice, I began crying. I told her I was homesick.

She comforted me with gentle words. She encouraged me to focus on my studies and reminded me why I had come to Windhoek in the first place.

For more than thirty minutes we talked.

By the time we ended the call, I felt stronger again.

So I went to campus determined to focus on being a student.

My first class at 10:30 went well.

Between classes I sat on the lawn reading my books. While I was studying, Tusu appeared.

“Hey Muuaa,” he said. “I see you have been avoiding me these past days. I am glad I caught you.”

“Well, you are disturbing me,” I said jokingly. “But it has been a while.”

This was the first time I had seen him since he left my house the day he took my virginity. I wanted to ask why he had not called me afterwards, but I did not want to look desperate.

Instead, I told him I was busy and had to go.

He was holding posters in his hands, and one of them caught my attention.

It was a picture of Kenaa.

“The Office of the Dean of Students is holding a memorial service for Kenaa this Friday,” he explained. “She won the Miss UNAM contest last year and was the reigning queen. She was loved by many people here.”

Then he added softly, “It is a shame you did not know her for long. You would have liked her.”

With that, he walked away.

Later I went to the library, where I studied with Kapee.

Kapee was from my village, Ehomba. We had gone to different schools growing up and had only seen each other during holidays. She was a typical bookworm,  always wearing glasses and always serious about her studies.

Looking at her felt like looking at my old self.

She helped me understand the course material and catch up on what I had missed.

I did not see Ondjona-Top anywhere on campus that day, and honestly I was not in the mood to talk to her.

After classes I was exhausted and ready to go home.

Kapax called me and invited me out for a drink and a snack. I really liked him, but I decided to follow Ondjona-Top’s advice and play hard to get.

So I politely refused and told him I had too much homework.

Still, I hinted that I might spend Valentine’s Day with him.

He sounded very happy about that.

Just as I finished the call, I saw Tusu waiting near the lecture halls.

“I was waiting for you,” he said. “How was class?”

“How did you know I had class now?” I asked suspiciously.

“I am your senior,” he laughed. “I know the faculty timetable.”

Then he added gently, “I know I should have called you earlier. Let me make it up to you. Let me buy you something to eat.”

I tried to refuse, but he kept insisting.

Finally, I agreed.

“You can buy me chicken curry,” I said. “After that I am going home.”

After dinner we talked about school.

I asked him many questions about law, and surprisingly he had answers for everything. He was actually very intelligent.

He suggested I join the Law Society, which was planning a study tour to South Africa. I signed up immediately and paid the N$30 membership fee.

Since he was the chairman, he promised to include me in the tour group.

I was thrilled.

Later we went to his SRC office.

The building was quiet, and we seemed to be the only ones there.

He switched on the fan, went to get some cool drinks, and returned. My feet were sore, so I took off my shoes. Tusu offered to massage them.

I allowed him.

His hands were strong and warm.

Slowly my body relaxed. I closed my eyes as his hands moved across my feet, then up my legs.

I felt his touch move higher.

His fingers brushed across my chest, and I felt his lips against my neck.

My body reacted without thinking.

Just as his hands reached for the zip of my jeans—

I suddenly woke up.

It had all been a dream.

The End of Chapter Nineteen

Watch out for Part Twenty as A Girl from Ehomba Mountain Who Wants to Achieve Something continues…