Friday, December 30, 2016
Smart Powerful You: Happy New Year 2017
Smart Powerful You: Happy New Year 2017: It is assured, another series of your journey is about to begin. I pray that all your plans be manifested in 2017. Some of you experienc...
Happy New Year 2017
It is assured, another series of your journey is about to begin. I pray that all your plans be manifested in 2017.
Some of you experienced personal or professional betrayal and hurt in 2016. Painful as it may be; you are given a chance to rewrite your story and your narrative depends entirely on you. You have a choice to wallow in the sadness and self-pity of negatively retelling it over and over again. Or else, believe in yourself and know that whatever happened in the past is done, move beyond past hurts, disappointments, and failures. The most important thing is the lessons learned in that experience. Believe in yourself and learn to trust again, but this time around, God. Love everybody, trust God.
Some of you are weighed down by unexplained and debilitating illnesses. Be grateful because if you are still breathing, I believe God wanted your attention because when your darkness overpowers your light, the only way out is to be still and wait on Him. moreover, it is another way to know those who are truly for you. Whenever you need clarity as to who is for who you are, not for what you have or can offer; get sick, lose a job or be in some kind of emotional distress. That is the best time to apply some discernment and trust the leadership of Jesus to help you separate scorpions and snakes in your animal kingdom and thorns and thistles in your garden.
As you toast and welcome 2017’s new beginnings and new opportunities; I wish you a year of enlightenment and spiritual awakening. May your crushed spirit and heavy heart over humanly inflicted pain find a way to look beyond what happened and apply wisdom in the old saying “everything happens for a reason.” Never allow the roots of bitterness and the desire to revenge dull your shine, use your energy towards worthy causes.
Last but not least, remember that life is not a series of unchallenged successes.
• Where you have failed, it’s time to setup for your comeback.
• Where you were betrayed, it’s time to actively listen to the warning of your inner voice.
• Where you’ve been hurt, forgive.
Above all, learn to surrender all of you, your plans, your doubts, depression, discouragements, relationships, finances, etc. to Jesus. He will direct your steps and help you remember that He never promised us an easy journey, but He will always be there when the seas roar and storms rage out of control.
A Happy 20 Serene Elevated Victorious Enlightened Noble Thriving Exemplary Exceptional Neighbourly
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
June Mokoka. See this and more books, apps and Themes on iAuthor
Find daily inspiration and a reason to continue http://www.amazon.com/gp/search?index=books&linkCode=qs&keywords=9781482802375
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Youth Energy, Leadership and Creativity
When social, economic and political issues are meaningful to the youth,
when young people have a voice over their social position, and when their
energy, leadership and creativity are considered as part of the processes in
change for sustainable development, countries would realise increased active
citizenry, self reliance and a comprehensive knowledge of civic education.
Young people are the world’s largest human capital, and many of them
around the world are already making contributions to their neighbourhoods,
societies and countries. But, their work should be further harnessed to
facilitate participation in decision-making and policy development.
Consequently, the best and perhaps even only option to
comprehensively impact the significant range of contemporary social issues we
face internationally is through positively developing the youth.
Most young people
in Africa face longer spells of unemployment than adults, regardless of their
level of education. This poses serious
problems for social stability and peace because; their energy is released on
destructive social habits such as crime, drug abuse, anarchy and violent civil unrest.
In tackling the
epidemic of global youth unemployment, the United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon, called
on governments to invest more in youth employment initiatives and promote
decent work.
It is therefore only through early leadership tuition and involving
youth in creative learning processes that could stimulate a mental position of
self-reliance.
This requires social leadership and social entrepreneurial programmes
that transforms them into robust and visionary young leaders who dare to make
the first move in creating justified social issues, sustainable economic
opportunities and stable political environments.
This Could Have Prepared Me
The year
I turned 20, I saw myself making a huge contribution to creating change in Africa.
I was in my second year at Cape Peninsula University of
Technology and still in the euphoric state from
witnessing Nelson Mandela’s inauguration as our first democratically elected
president. The diplomatic rhetoric in the mainstream media captivated my
attention as most of our leaders narrated the notion of Africans uniting. That
fuelled my senses with overflowing hope as I filled my mind with Big Dreams and an idealistic
vision of visiting each country around our continent to advance my vision of
working together towards African exceptionalism. As a young girl, I couldn’t
comprehend why we’ve always been perceived as the “Dark Continent”, the Africa of “The
Gods must be Crazy” film or as portrait in Joseph Conrad’s s novel “Heart of Darkness;” an image of
Africa that is dark and inhumane.
20 years down the line the plans and dreams I've envisioned hadn't
come to fruition. One thing naturally led to
another as I evolved and got busy with life, but more importantly I grew timid
and got frightened each time I convinced myself that my dream is far-fetched. This
was because I was confronted with the reality that, world leaders toil endlessly
at global summits and yet we still face war, poverty, famine and other daunting challenges.
It was only after I saw my son’s T-Shirt inscribed boldly “Africa is not for
Sissies” that I rehashed my youthful spirit and stirred myself to believe we
can still do more as Africans. We can courageously employ our resourcefulness; harness the
strength of our people to sacrifice and work harder towards growth and
sustainable development. Nevertheless, much as I come back with a
renewed spirit, allow me to enlighten you on what I wish I knew then, because I
understand it better now. I do this with the hope of preparing you to confront
your fears when met with hindrances along your journey to contributing to
positive social-change. I have three suggestions that I wish someone had told me.
1st You’re never too Young To Think
About Your Role as a Leader.
Virtually all young people have a clear
perception of what is wrong in the world and vivid ideas for constructive
change; they lack only the confidence and skills to carry them out. Their ideas
and energy should be translated into a value system that will enable them to
become good leaders. A desperate need for effective and ethical leaders exists
in every community, in every neighborhood, in every country. Fortunately, the fact
that you are reading this piece is in no doubt a sign that you have decided to break
out of the herd mentality and have chosen the less traveled path of
influencing others in a positive way. NOW!!! Is the perfect time to see you as
the LEADER the world have been waiting on to create positive changes that will
impact greatly on humanity???
2nd Emotional Intelligence Is A Critical
Component Of A Leader.
Society needs more ethical and effective
leaders willing to take
responsibility to make things go right through guiding people toward using
their fullest potential to meet the rational needs of others. Emotional Intelligence will open your mind
to ‘stable values,’ that will provide a solid foundation in building your
charismatic influence as a leader. It will provide you with an opportunity to
explore your inner being and your impact on others, as well as the ethical
basis for human relations as you create a language to talk about real life
issues in a safe and authentic way.
3rd Develop Critical Thinking Skills
That Produce Better Life Choices
The company you keep does have an
impact and influence on your choices, be wary of who you’re rolling with
because it influences your thoughts, your beliefs, your language and your
outlook in life. Responsibility to yourself means refusing others to do your
thinking, and the essence of leadership is an independent mind that
internalizes wisdom before reacting. Harness your critical thinking skills,
prepare to learn more and use that knowledge constructively as you genuinely
detach from popular opinion or coerced social discourse and make a difference
in your environment.
When I searched inventions that took
place 40 years ago, I was delighted to discover that in 1974 (the year that I was born), a young Professor
of architecture in Budapest (Hungary) named Erno Rubik created an object that
was not supposed to be possible. His solid cube twisted and turned - and still
it did not break or fall apart. With colourful stickers on its sides, the Cube
got scrambled and thus emerged the first “Rubik’s Cube”. It took well over a
month for Erno to work out the solution to his puzzle. Little did he expect
that Rubik’s Cube would become the world’s best-selling toy ever?
There's so much to do, and there's never
enough time. There are deep problems, painful problems -- problems that quick
fix approaches can't solve. As I researched and prepared this message, I became
particularly interested on how countries around the world are preparing young
people to get involved in decision making processes. I suppose this to be the
best approach to drive our majestic continent forward, and I accept as true for
as long as I feel young, I shall rename the Rubik’s Cube to the Africa’s Cube
and turn social issues that are not supposed to be possible into workable
solutions created by young minds.
“I am not young but I
feel young. The day I feel old, I will go to bed and stay there. J'aime la vie!
I feel that to live is a wonderful thing.”
Coco Chanel
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Be Resourceful, Committed and Drive Change
TheReformist/SmartMoves Mag
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+27845221536 
mjmok3
Monday, March 31, 2014
MANTU
It was 12
April 1974, and Mantu Bantu was
just a few weeks short of seventeen. She was an average girl in every way, tall
but not outstandingly attractive, the only thing which sets her apart from the
other girls in the village was her strength of character. It was an unusually hot day, the
blustery wind coming straight in off the Indian Ocean, and even in the shelter
of the golden leaved platkroon tree’s generous shade, it was very hot.
Much later that afternoon, still waiting
and in doubt, she lay on the lush meadow, and found her thoughts slip back to
her home and family at Mooiplaas in East London. She knew now that she had been
born more fortunate than many of her friends. Her father, James Bantu, was a farmer,
and although there had been hard times after her father’s detention, somehow he’d
always managed to make sure his family never went to bed hungry or lacked clothing.
Mantu could remember being cuddled up in bed with her sisters Malindi and
Nobantu, hearing the strong easterly deafening winds at night, yet feeling safe
and secure, for her father reinforced their thatched roof with wire and left
enough money to tide them over the harsh winters. Just thinking of Mooiplaas with
its tiny dwellings made a lump come up in her throat. The small vegetable farm
that kept her mother busy as she could sell some of its produce and the nearby
game farm that belonged to the Hart family never created a dull moment, they
got along well with the Hart family and the Bantus were a well-respected
family. Nothando, Mantu’s mother, set great store by respectability; she kept their
house spotlessly clean, and tried to instil in her daughters her high standards
in needlework, housekeeping and cooking.
Mantu’s older sisters, Malindi and Nobantu,
were the dutiful ones, compliant and happy to follow in their mother’s
footsteps. All they could talk about was their dreams of finding husbands and
having children on the nearby village. Mantu did not share her sisters’ dreams.
It was often said by her father that she should have been a boy. She was clumsy
with her needlework and household tasks bored her to death. She was happiest
when her father brought her books to read, for she felt at one with her daring
female characters and could keep her excitement till she meets André to narrate
all her reading adventures. She preferred his company to her sisters, for he
talked of exciting things he wanted to do like travelling around the world in
80 days, of war and hunting. She had no time for plain girl conversations full
of gossip, flirting, latest fashion and nothing more than the price of fish. It
was a thirst for adventure which made her want to leave Mooiplaas, and she had
a strong conviction that leaving her world was the only way she could make her
mark upon the world
Her mother and sisters were unkindly
towards her for spending too much time with André because that inhibited eligible
Xhosa village boys from meeting with her. In fact her mother arranged for her
hand in marriage with a friend’s son, because she was afraid no one would ever
want to marry her once she’s much older. Mantu had no real desire for marriage.
If truth be told, too much reading introduced her to a world of love and
romance, instead she felt pity rather than envy for the girls she’d grown up
with who were already saddled with four or five children. She knew that her
life would be miserable in an enforced marriage; hence she was determined not
to succumb to her mother’s wishes. But then life was hard for any African woman
in South Africa, unless you were from the White ethnic group, work was either teaching,
nursing or becoming a housemaid. The only reason she was still around was
because André convinced his parents to let her help in the farm school library,
which enabled her to read more books and that broadened her mind. She didn’t
want to spend her days cleaning after someone’s mess or raising their
ungrateful offspring. The alternative
was teaching and nursing, and although she enjoyed imparting knowledge, she was
afraid she will end up like Mrs, Anna Fuba, her school teacher. She has taken a
liking of her since childhood, and enjoyed the freedom expressed in their tête-à-tête
as they shared narrations from the books they read.
No one ever unleashed their full potential
in the confines of their place of birth; you challenge the status quo only to be
viewed with astonishment and contempt. You become the talk of town, and if you
are a woman you become socially ostracized because you are seen as having gone
rogue. Mantu would listen with concern at Mrs. Fabu as she relates how miserable
her marriage was. Her husband was one of the kindest men around but could not
project the same kindness at home. He had everything he needed to be counted as
a real man in the social scenes, an educated wife who made a decent living and
carved a refined lifestyle for them. For a sales person at a furniture store he
was not doing badly either. A beautiful house and five sons were just what he
needed to boost his ego and boast about to most of his clients. What they
didn’t know was that the ambitious Mrs. Fabu’s life is less eventful and dull
at home. Her husband struggled to love her well, the challenge was that her
emotions, and her constant need to talk about her feelings annoyed him. As a
man, he could not relate to her need to talk about her emotions, he looked at
her through his masculine lens.
She likened their marriage to a wash
machine, everything worked out smoothly up until the spin cycle started. One
cold July afternoon she came home prickly from an unbecoming conversation with
her sister-in-law. She needed to talk about it, but he considered his sister’s
offensive utterances to his wife trivial or unimportant. He gave her a
glazed-over look, saying to her, “Hey, listen, this will blow over. What’s the
big deal? Stop being a victim and ignore her, if this is not true why bother
about what she said.” She would walk away frustrated, wondering why he didn’t
take her seriously. Everything would smooth out eventually, until the next spin
cycle hit. The periods of calm were okay except that the emotional space that
built up between them each time the cycle hit was affecting their marital
intimacy. He didn’t understand why she couldn’t be strong and bold like she
behaves outside the confines of their home. When she got all emotional, he
usually retorted, ‘Come on, you’ve got to be stronger.’ If she got teary and cried
while trying to express something that was bothering her, she got that look of
disdain and he would mumble, ‘Here we go again…why can’t you pull yourself
together?’
Matu asked herself if this is what many women
who were married went through, that picture perfect of holding hands in the
park, and words she read about in her novels such as “I’ll be your shoulder to
cry on’ were they just fantasies. She wondered about her mother, aunts and all
these other women and asked herself how many go through this in the name of
marriage. She murmured to herself, ‘I am
not going to be stuck in this rut; I have to run away from this misery,
depression and a loneliness as soon as I can afford to.’
She had read about many cities around the
globe like Australia, Rome, Paris, New York and London. She imagined fine shops
and big houses there, and opportunities for anyone with determination. She
thought she might get work in a bank because even though she adored reading,
she was sharper in calculations and preferred mathematics in all her subjects.
She knew that with her father not around her mother will have mixed feelings
about her and André, because their friendship was slowly developing into
something more.
Mantu couldn’t wait to get away, yet now as
she lay on the lush meadow and recalled the morning events when she left her
home, she was filled with remorse. It was very early in the morning when her
mother yelled, ‘Mantu!
Mantu! Come over here at once, if you know what’s good for you.’ They heard
from a far of relative that her father has been detained without a trial for
suspected political activities and yet nobody knew which prison was he incarcerated.
In her determination to uncover the truth, she planned a trip to Cape town with
André’ to meet Andrew
Burger, a renowned journalist and a close friend of
the Harts. She didn’t want any further lectures
from her mother about leaving the situation alone, or being wary of her
relations with André. Her mother had never been given to displays of emotion, so
it was a little unnerving as Mantu went to embrace her to find herself suddenly
being hugged tightly. ‘Be a good girl,’ her mother said, her voice cracking. ‘Say
your prayers and don’t get into any trouble.’
Mantu remembered how she hurried away,
fearing that she might suddenly change her mind. Her mother looked older and strangely
defenceless, yet she didn’t have a clue that her daughter had no intention of
returning back home. It was the marriage she arranged for her with Themba
Gyenya that sent her packing. Even without being able to see her face clearly,
Mantu knew she was crying. Yet, the thought of her life being mapped out for her
encouraged her to soldier on and never look back.
******
Mantu was an intelligent and
sensitive girl. Spending her days with Mrs. Fabu sharpened her social skills;
she had observed every aspect of the huge divide between Black South Africans
and white South Africans. It wasn’t just that the white had impressive houses,
servants and ate well; their children were protected. Most of the black
ethnicity relinquished all responsibility for their children long before they
even reached Mantu’s age, turning them out and expecting them to find work to
keep themselves. With this in the forefront of her mind, and the fact that it
was illegal to socialize with a white boy she turned to Mrs. Fabu for advice
whilst they were plotting their runaway.
‘André have never been outside the
borders of Mooiplas on his own,’ she said firmly, taking up a position at the
side of their hut, her hands on her hips. “Harts have always been farmers.
Being a farmer is highly regarded in our community, and it’s been passed down
from father to son for five or six generations. So what do you think his father
will do when they find out that their son and heir took off with a black girl?’
‘He’ll alert the police on us and I could be arrested,’ Mantu responded, her
eyes wide with fear. ‘That’s exactly what you’ll get for your trouble,’ she
said, nodding her head. ‘But it will break your mother’s heart, your sense of adventure
has gone too far, you could be charged with kidnapping a white boy even if he
is the same age as you are, and they will throw you in jail and throw away the
keys.
We haven’t got much, but we the
people of colour have always had our pride. ‘Your father had constantly appealed
to me that i made sure you get more out
of your education,’ she said, softening a little and reminding herself she was
just a light headed teenage girl. ‘What we want is for you to go to university,
that way you can e whatever you desire.’
‘How could he ensure that I get all
that when he is not around and my mother has already agreed to put me up for
marriage with a man I don’t want,’ Mantu retorted with some belligerence. ‘Maybe
that’s what you should agree to for now, and I will ensure that this doesn’t
interfere with your education,’ Mrs Fabu replied angrily.
Matu sighed deeply. She could sense
an air of desperation between the two of them. Mrs. Fabu knew that much as she
would like her to have her freedom, she didn’t approve of her ways to go about
getting it. The trouble was that, upon realizing that they were both gone, her
mother and siblings could be thrown off the farm or even worse alert the police
and she could end up in prison. She was on a treadmill, and until she found a
way of getting out of this mess, she had to settle for a loveless marriage. ‘Now,
promise me you’ll consider and think things through before you go tomorrow? Or
I’ll tell your mother what you’ve been up to and she’ll have no choice but to
alert the Harts before the two of you get into trouble.’ She explained. She
gave her promise, but she knew it was an empty one. She could see no sincerity
in her promise, and knew her well enough to assume her encouragement did
anything but deter her. She gave her some money and a street address in
Gugulethu, a township in the outskirts of Cape Town.
*****
Mantu came out of her thoughts to the sounds of footsteps walking towards
her. ‘Come, get up!’ Dazed; she got up hurriedly and asked him if he was ready
to go. ‘No, I’m not coming with and I am sorry about that!’ blurted Andries, out
rightly. The boy, all apprehension, said, ‘I have to tell
you something very disturbing about your father’ André said cautiously. As he
came towards her, weighed down by his mother’s revelation about James Bantu, he
looked all in, his shoulders were stooped and he was wheezing with the effort of walking.
‘Your father was never imprisoned, he…he…he ran away with his
mistress and your mother fabricated the political activist story to protect you
and your siblings. Mantu faded and dropped her bags, ‘Oh my word’ she exclaimed,
hugging herself and starring tearfully and questioningly at Andries. ‘She did
that to protect you, please understand,’ André ventured fearfully. At the same
time he felt some sympathy for Mantu and her family because he knew how much embarrassment
a scandal such as would cost her mother in a small community such as Mooiplass.
Yet all at once, he also knew that girls like Mantu are forced into
marriage, and that could be the reason her mother protected their reputation to
avoid being labeled the scorned woman. André instinctively moved towards his
friend and put his arms around her, Mantu had been his comforter, friend and
confidante. Thanks to her, he can boldly stand up to his family and has
convinced them to treat black people with dignity and refrain from following
the apartheid laws. He didn’t know if there was any way he could help Mantu out
of this tight spot, but if there was one, he’d find it.
‘Don’t make any decisions without ado, Mantu,’ André said
comfortingly. ‘We’re both worn-out now, but if we put our heads together we’ll
think of something. I’ll take you home and we can talk more tomorrow.
Mantu drew back from Andries’s arms and wiped her still swimming eyes
but he could see she was struggling to regain her composure. ‘You’re a good friend
Andries,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘But it’s you who must go back home.
I’ll proceed with my plans and I swear to never return. I can take care of
myself and I will find a way to just do that.’ She responded. With tears in his eyes, he gave her Andrew Burger’s contact details and
promised to let him know about her just in case she needs help while in The
Mother City.
*****
An hour or so later, Mantu wiped away the last of her
emotional tears and turned her mind to her future. She had experienced so much
in this place; most of what she learned about life was from what she read. She
still couldn’t believe that her mother was prepared to give her away in
marriage even though she knew how she felt about it. Her father would have
never allowed it because he always encouraged her to follow her dreams. ‘That bastard has abandoned us without a word’
she thought, her hero turned worst coward instantly. She was ready for what lay ahead. She had had
so many dear and good memories she is leaving behind, but the freedom of
getting what she wanted out of life encouraged her to push on.
*****
What
Mantu hadn’t anticipated was that hundreds of people in the streets of Cape
Town were more educated, prettier, vibrant and more confident to present their
case in employment opportunities. All she landed was a job in a Catholic
Mission, teaching the prescribed curriculum limited to the dogmatic principles
of the church. She could not expand beyond the confines of the school
curriculum and her living conditions in Gugulethu township were very
uncomfortable. She contacted Mrs Fabu’s friend the minute she arrived and was introduced
to a funny looking woman with only one canine tooth as her landlord. Her bed consisted of a very thin sponge and
the neighborhood looked strange because it consisted of rows
of tin shanties that lied alongside luxurious mansions, four roomed houses
named match boxes, piles of garbage and pitted roads with dirty water streaming
down the streets. She shared a a match bosx house with a mysterious couple who seldom
communicated but their constant brawls kept her up most nights. It was hardly two months when the landlord
threw her out, the couple accused her of stealing and all other irrational
issues that made cohabiting unpleasant, but that wasn’t true. All she’d done
was refuse to let the man have his way with her. Without anybody to lean on she
couldn’t get a descent place to live in, and she was too proud to go home or ask
help from Mrs. Fabu’s friend.
The
instant she met Clive Drum at her work, she knew that she was on the way to
hell in a chariot. Surely no decent young woman would allow a complete stranger
to offer her accommodation and promise he would introduce her to a trade that
makes more money whilst working at her present job. But, there was something intriguing about this
witty character and the sparkle in his brown eyes, and the stories he told her
about living and surviving in a big city captivated her. Clive wasn’t bound by
any of the rules Mantu had been brought up with. He cared nothing for the religious
fraternity, the Church, or indeed any authority. He had a courteous manner and
was generous about admiring Mantu’s abilities, and he was more fun to be with
than anyone she’d ever met before. Maybe it was partly because she had a crush
on him and his poetic description of her was mesmerizing. No one has ever told
her that she is beautiful, her intelligence and strength was the attributes she
often got appraisal for but never once was she praised for her beauty. The
first day with him was spent detailing the way to make extra income, even
though he omitted the fine points. He made her feel so important, her whole
body seemed to blaze, and it wasn’t just excitement for gaining an extra income.
It was his wit, the feel of his hand in hers, the suggestion that she was on
the brink of something dangerous yet wonderful too. With retrospection she
ought to have suspected there was something amiss when he never attempted to kiss
her. He looked at her fondly and told her he loved her, but it never went any
further than that. At the time Mantu had foolishly believed his prudence was
out of shyness, but it was only later she discovered the truth.
*****
Clive
cared for no one but himself. He was a human trafficker by trade, and when he’d
spotted her innocent country girl appearance there was no turning back for him.
All it took was a few sympathetic words to win her trust. It never crossed Mantu’s
mind in the first few weeks after meeting him that, he encouraged meaningful
conversations between them every evening in his quest to determine if she will
be the best conduit for his business. She was too anesthetized by his charm, animated
by his attention-grabbing friends with their expensive taste, and overwhelmed by
his generosity to study him closely. By the time she did become aware of it,
she was so fixated in his undemanding, amusing way of life that he could have told
her he was a callous human being trader and she wouldn’t have turned a hair.
14
August 1974 is a date
etched forever in Mantu’s heart and memory. At around 01h00 she woke up with a fright
when she suddenly recalled that she wasn’t
home. The comfortable bedroom quickly reminded her where she was, she quietly
went down stairs to drink some water. The light in the study room
was a curious blue green, with the rain pouring she thought Clive could have
forgotten to switch it off. When she turned the door knob, she was surprised to
find Hilda and Catherine with about 10 young girls and six boys all tapped with
wide scary eyes. Mantu shut the door and turned back but before she could move
Hilda pushed her right back into the study room.
‘Don’t you dare make a move?’ she shouted.
Mantu,
was just lying there on the floor staring into space even when Hilda slapped
her hard on her cheek she didn’t so much as blink. ‘Don’t you think is time to
initiate her?’ Catherine asked.
‘Initiate
me on what?’ Mantu asked.
‘The
rain, the thunder and lightning,’ Catherine ridiculed.
Hilda
said. ‘Why don’t you tell her first what happens to people like her when she
can’t keep her mouth shut on what she just witnessed.’
She
could barely bring herself to listen to the rest of the instructions for it was
revealing a side of Clive she hadn’t known existed. There was some
apprehensiveness about his coming in and going out, she attributed it to
gambling or drug smuggling but not this. She had been a fool to assume him not
taking any interest in her romantically was to take it slow and build up
something passionately lasting. She became more astonished when he refused to
see her and instructed his aides to tell her that is what happens to ambitious
farm girls like her, and that in big cities it was commonplace to suspect overtly
generous acts from a stranger. Mantu, who had been brought up to be honest
and God-fearing, didn’t entirely agree with him about that, but she wasn’t
going to say so. ‘I will come out of
this, come hell or high water.’ She thought
instead. Mantu was no shrinking violet; she gathered her thoughts whilst being in
great agony and panic, remembered all the books she has read and knew that life
rewards the courageous few. She saw too that she had allowed herself
to be fooled right from the start. She was beyond tears now.
Less
than an hour later, she was instructed to write to the mission school she was
assisting at and let them know she is not coming back. This was to curb their curiosity
on her whereabouts lest they report her missing. Clive had already decided that
he would use her as a conduit. Nonetheless the woman told him many times about
her desire to travel and see the world. After she was given instructions and
stern warnings about being part of the human trafficking syndicate and its repercussions
for back stabbers, she was immediately given a new passport and new identity. To
her surprise, five of the children abducted she recognized as those from the
mission school, they looked at her with hopeless fear and she wondered if they
thought she had anything to do with this cruelty. Thinking fearfully in her
father’s words, she unintentionally murmured, ‘It is okay to feel the fear when
you want to do something, but fear doesn’t have to stop you.’ With those words
she was determined to find a way out of this mess.
‘I’ll
write the damn letter, but I’ll be damned if they oblivious to not associate my
disappearance with those five.’ She pointed at the five children from her
school.
How
would their disappearance be associated to you, and what do you care you will
be out of the country by the time anyone notices.’ Hilda retorted.
The door opened and Catherine led
the kids out in a row like lamb getting ready for slaughter. She prepared some concoction
to put them to sleep so that when Timothy arrived to collect the cargo it will
be easy to load them in his minibus, and that will make sure they are out until
he safely crossed over the Namibian border. Mantu was given all the instructions and was
left alone to write the letter whilst Catherine assisted Hilda with the consignment.
What they didn’t know was that this farm girl was far too intelligent to be likened
to any street wise city girl. She waited a few minutes, grabbed the phone and
dialed Andrew Burger,
quickly explained the situation and asked him to be very careful as there were
some police officers involved. To her surprise she recognized who she was when
she introduced herself and asked he to act dumb and not be too confident as he
worked on a plan to get her out of this mess.
‘Hilda, go through the contents of that letter,’ instructed
Catherine. ‘I did, and it is well written, nothing suspicious to make us
anxious,’ she said. ‘She might have written some codes that will give away our
entire plan,’ said Catherine.
‘Clive said we should go and all other instructions will be
provided once they have reached Katima Mulilo.
******
Mantu wanted to open her eyes and see whatever lies in front of
her, but the night was too dark. It was a sightless and long road with ditches,
she couldn’t make out if it was her imagination or she could actually faintly
sense the heavy breathing of 16 souls neatly packed in containers like objects.
They kept her awake despite the tedious ride
and the aloof Timothy. It was more stressful during the day when they had to stop
and refuel or refresh and stretch. Timothy was well trained as he had all the
provisions required, and he allowed her to refresh in the plain fields where no
one can meddle should she decide to cry out for help. When morning approached, Mantu’s
face was heavy, but soon to be blanched by a road block next to the boarder of
Namibia.
She
was a bit apprehensive because the network of law enforcement officers in Clive’s circle could make
all this go away without any justice served. She was a little anxious, gone
were the positive thoughts and her courageous demeanor when faced with a
perilous situation. She could barely recall what she told Andrew Burger, and
all she could think of was how she can be as easily implicated because of the
five children she knew. She suspected that even if they brought in a strong
police force, however many sober minded and honest police men and women tried
to stop the trafficking of women and young children, vice and corruption will
always hinder progress.
Timothy
was silent for a moment, and then he said. ‘Maybe this was all part of the plan,
terrible though but it was,’ he said. ‘I should have stayed home with my wife,’
he cried. Mantu had a pang of guilt, she was also afraid that Clive will get
away, whereas Timothy will pay dearly. She was not even sure how much could be
pinned down to her. She suddenly gave Timothy a deep look and said, ‘Listen
here, listen to me you coward don’t you think it’s time to stand up and make a difference.’
The only reason men like Clive get away with such pitiless actions is because
men like you keep quiet and suffer alone. You now the syndicate better than
anyone, and you could anonymously pimp them and get your get out of jail free
card.’ She retorted. To her delight, Andrew organized
a press conference, and he prudently alerted the police about this operation.
She knew that despite her ambitious
streak, she could do nothing at this particular moment about the plight
of the thousands of other young women and children trafficked into and out of
the country. Whenever she tried to rouse people’s sympathy she met a wall of
indifference. Yet she was determined that she would do something to get these
evils stamped out.
*****
So,
for all she’d been able to do was create an awareness to educate society about
this perpetual evil, yet there was still so much more that needed to be done. Sometimes
Mantu felt that the task she’d set herself was like trying to empty the ocean
with a two liter jug. Over the last 40
years Mrs Hart together with her husband André Hart had been instrumental in
getting only a few human trafficking lords prosecuted. They had rescued a total
of three hundred and thirty-five young women and children, and have partnered
with organizations around the world fighting the trade. But that was only skimming
across the surface of a sludge filled with ill-fate they could never reach.
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