CHAPTER THIRTEEN 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 THIRTEEN

A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

From the Mountain to the City Lights

When my aunt arrived home that Friday night, she found me lying on my bed with swollen eyes.

My face was wet with tears.

I had been crying for hours.

Even when my grandmother passed away five years ago, I do not remember crying this much. When my father died, I was still young and confused; I hardly understood what death truly meant.

But this time was different.

This pain felt deeper.

Real.

Heavy.

My aunt came closer and looked at me carefully.

“What is wrong?” she asked.

For the first time since coming to Windhoek, I did not lie.

“I lost a friend,” I said quietly.

She sat next to me and handed me a tissue.

“Life can be difficult sometimes,” she said softly. “You have to be strong. It is the only way to survive.”

Then she asked,

“Ouṋe ngwaṱu hapo?”

(Who has died?)

“It’s Kenaa,” I answered. “My friend… and Vemuu’s friend.”

Even as I said her name, I could hardly believe it.

Kenaa was gone.

The thought alone made my heart break again.

At that moment, many questions filled my mind.

Why had everything happened so fast?

Why did people around me keep dying?

Why did life suddenly feel so heavy?

If only my aunt had known what we had been going through.

Maybe everything could have been different.

Maybe Kenaa would still be alive.

We had warned her.

We told her the plan was dangerous.

But once Kenaa decided something, nothing could change her mind.

I walked to the bathroom to wash my face.

When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognised the girl staring back at me.

She looked tired.

Broken.

Lost.

How had my life become so complicated?

I came to Windhoek with a dream.

A simple dream.

To study.

To become a lawyer.

To make my mother proud.

But instead…

I found myself surrounded by secrets.

Danger.

Death.

I did not feel sorry for Cota Ma-Cups.

He had tried to rape me.

But his death had opened a door to darkness.

And now people were dying.

I cried the whole night.

Sleep did not come.

School was supposed to start in two days.

I wanted to focus.

To move forward.

But my mind was trapped in everything that had happened.

Even though I had not known Kenaa for long, she had become close to me.

She had a strong spirit.

A wild spirit.

But also a caring heart.

Once she told me something I would never forget.

“Sometimes you must live your life the way you want,” she said.

“When it is time to die… you die alone.”

At the time, I laughed.

Now those words haunted me.

Kenaa was the most caring of the Ozondjona-ozo-Top girls.

She wanted to become a nurse.

She wanted to save lives.

Even though she lived a reckless life, she still had a beautiful heart.

And now she was gone.

It is strange how people say good things about someone only after they die.

“Tjiri nu,” (Seriously.)

I whispered.

That night changed something inside me.

I began to realise something important.

My life was more valuable than the chaotic lifestyle around me.

The next morning, Ndjona-Top called.

Her voice was weak.

Broken.

She was crying.

“I saw it on the news,” I told her before she could speak.

There was silence.

Then she started crying again.

I went to Tjipaa’s house.

I could not mourn alone.

And I knew Tjipaa needed support even more.

When I entered her room, photos of Kenaa were spread across the bed.

Photos of laughter.

Photos of parties.

Photos of friendship.

Tjipaa and Ndjona-Top had not slept.

Neither had I.

“She was so young,” Tjipaa said.

“So beautiful… and full of life.”

Then she cried again.

“I shouldn’t have let her go.”

Ndjona-Top finally explained what happened.

They were waiting in the car near Aju’s house.

Suddenly…

They heard a gunshot.

When the ambulance arrived, they saw the body bag.

And in that moment…

They knew.

Later that day we went to visit Kenaa’s sister in Okatutura.

Tjipaa’s mother drove us there.

On the way, Ndjona-Top told me something.

Kenaa’s sister had once chased her out of the house.

They had been fighting.

Her sister had said:

“Warira omuryange waTjomuise tjinene.”

(She is always moving up and down in Windhoek.)

Kenaa started living with Ndjona-Top after that.

Trying to survive.

Trying to live.

And that was when she met Aju.

The man who eventually took her life.

When we arrived at the house, the atmosphere was heavy.

Kenaa’s sister was sitting in the living room.

Her children were crying.

She held Kenaa’s baby pictures in her hands.

Then she began to cry loudly.

“This is my fault,” she said.

“She was young… just a teenager living her life.”

“I was supposed to protect her.”

She cried harder.

“How will I tell our mother?”

“Okangero Kamama… Mukuru Wandje…”

(My mother’s last born… my God…)

Tjipaa’s mother held her tightly.

Trying to comfort her.

Only then did I understand something.

Tjipaa’s mother and Kenaa’s sister had once lived on the same street in Okatutura when they were both poor.

They were old friends.

That was why Tjipaa and Kenaa were so close.

They had grown up like sisters.

Tjipaa’s mother promised to help with the funeral.

She would even help bring Kenaa’s body back to Kunene for burial.

“Motjiherero kuza omuatje owo vandu ave,” she said.

(In Otjiherero we say a child belongs to everyone.)

After we spoke with the family, we went to Kenaa’s old room.

We sat there quietly.

Remembering her.

Talking about her.

I realised something.

Even though I had known her for only a short time…

She had left a mark on my life.

The Ozondjona-ozo-Top girls were loyal to each other.

They protected each other.

They kept secrets for each other.

Sometimes dangerous secrets.

But their loyalty made them strong.

Today, friendships break over small things.

Over boys.

Over jealousy.

But not them.

They were sisters.

Kenaa kept her promise.

Even in death.

She took the secret of Cota Ma-Cups with her.

And she also brought Aju down with her.

Through all this drama, I learned many things.

About the dangers of the city.

About money.

About loyalty.

About trust.

Men did not like me for who I was.

They liked the image.

The way I looked.

The way I moved.

But the Ozondjona-ozo-Top girls taught me something important.

Loyalty.

Real sisterhood.

I had already sworn my loyalty to them.

Even though this was not the life I had planned.

This life chose me.

And sometimes in life…

You either adapt…

Or you disappear.

So I chose to adapt.

Because life…

Must go on.

The End of Chapter Thirteen

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