Molodi (Whistle)

PART ONE

The lingering darkness felt heavy as I dragged my body through the mud. I still heard the whistle, tormenting every living aspect of me but I fought through it, the same way I fought through to be embedded in this mud. He was real, he was so real, and I felt it with every breath that I took. After finally landing my body on the cold tar road, I stared ahead, feeling the stare of a crow nearby. I couldn’t scream, his grip still felt tight around my neck. It was almost like he left with me, almost like he had been there the whole time. “Help,” it came out as a whisper, something swallowed by the wind. “Anyone please,” the crow flew away. I bent my knees, in an attempt to stand up but I kept falling, over and over again. “Help please,” I repeated, hearing his whistle getting louder by the minutes. I was moving but it wasn’t fast enough. My own body felt too heavy, I was fighting the biggest losing battle.

Drenched in nothing but mud, I kept moving. Forcing my arms to pull the weight of my body. The tar road felt harsh on my skin, but nothing was compared to the torments of Molodi. He was getting closer; I could feel it. “Help,” I could no longer hear my voice. He was laying beside me, dressed in white. I suddenly felt warm, almost like the cold had disappeared. I wanted to hold him, I wanted to embrace him. I heard his cries; I felt his pain and I just couldn’t bear it. “Fight,” he began, his voice piercing through the night, “save my people.” I woke up, fully soaked in sweat. I still felt the tight grip on my neck and my body wouldn’t stop shaking. “Babe are you okay?” my husband’s voice ringed in my ears. I stared at him for a while, a big part of me trying to figure out the meaning of what just happened. “The dreams,” I stated, “I haven’t had them in years.”

My husband didn’t know what I was talking about, he couldn’t have possibly known. In the three years of our marriage, I hadn’t dared told him about the past that deemed I was broken. The past that I had managed to forget about. “What dreams?” he asked as I could sense the worry in his voice. “The last time I had them, I was in high school. I don’t understand how they’re back. I thought-“ my phone started ringing. I was so consumed in everything that was happening that I completely forgot the life I currently have, the responsibilities that were awaiting me. “Oh my word Siya, I’m late for work. Why didn’t you wake me up?” I stated, already rushing to the bathroom. It was so unlike me to miss anything work related and I didn’t even know how I would explain something like this.

“I thought today was your day off,” he walked in, “we’re supposed to take Langa ice skating.” I must have messed up the dates, I had no idea what was wrong with me, but I had to get my act together. “I’m so sorry babe. I just- I don’t know. I really need to get to work so maybe we can do it tomorrow,” I stated. I could sense his dissatisfaction, Siya and I have been through a lot as a couple, and I really didn’t want this to take us back. “Look,” I stated, holding his chin, “I really want us all to spend time together and I’m really working on it, but you know how hard it was for me to get this job and we both expect so much from Langa and it’s like I’m –“

“Working for the three of us, I understand,” he seemed extremely unpleased. A part of me wanted to try to make him understand or just see my side but I had no time for that. I never judged Siya’s situation, I never for once thought he wasn’t good enough, but it was his situation that put me under so much pressure. It was his situation that forced me to be the hard-working woman that I am now. I hoped he, one day, understood. Driving to work was surprisingly quick. As a new employee, I had to constantly make sure I proved my value and capabilities to my employer and today was the first slip up I had ever experienced. I greeted Thomas, the security guard as I entered the premises. My heels were clicking gracefully against the floor and in that moment, I had forgotten the bad dream I had woken up from. I had forgotten that I was actually half an hour late for work and in that moment, everything just felt okay.

“Look at you,” a colleague of mine stated. I had only been working here for a couple of months, but the bond Brenda and I grew was one of the things I was mostly grateful for. “Didn’t expect to see you here today,” I stated, wrapping her in a hug. We spent a few minutes talking about the little things that were happening in our lives and I had the greatest urge to tell her about the dream I had but I knew it required me to explain way more and that was something I wasn’t ready for. I sat down, pulling out my laptop. I had two stories that I had to complete before the end of the week and the more I wrote, the more I lost interest. That was the thing with journalism. It was my first choice from the beginning, but I often believed certain stories were better suited for me. “Sekgadi,” I heard my editor’s voice. Walking towards his office was always the most intimidating thing but something kept assuring me that whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be about my late coming. “Take a seat,” he stated as he closed the door. The chair’s soft fabric comforted my thighs as I took a seat. “Seems like this is something important,” I stated.

He slowly pulled out his chair, rested his chin on his hands and stared at me in a way that made me extremely nervous. Was I lying to myself? Was this really about my late coming? “On your first interview, you mentioned something about a tragedy you experienced growing up,” he mentioned, and I instantly felt sickened to the stomach. “I don’t think I follow,” I stated. I couldn’t have possibly mentioned any of that. I don’t remember ever mentioning that. He pulled out what looked like a really old newspaper, and I felt even more sick. I hadn’t seen or heard that name in ages and now that it was right in front of me, I didn’t know how to feel.

“You’re from this village, right?” He asked and I stared him, feeling so much disgust. What did this have to do with anything? How did he call me all the way from my desk for something like this? “I don’t think I understand what’s going on,” I mentioned, fighting the urge to actually breakdown. “They believe he’s back,” he stated, “six teenagers’ round about the ages of thirteen and sixteen have been reported to have hung themselves and as someone who might have possibly witnessed something like this growing up, you’re best suited for this story.” I was breathing heavily. Everything became so blurry, and I felt this unexpected anger.

“Look,” he continued, “I understand this may be a lot considering what you’ve been through, but this story could mean a lot to your career. And trust me, if it was the best decision, I would assign this story to someone else but Manda, you’re the only who can pull this off.” I was stuck. I’ve never felt this stuck before. Was that dream some kind of warning? Would I go through all of that all over again? “I need time to think about it,” I stated, swallowing the big lump that felt very evident in my throat. “You have a day or two,” he stated, “The PA will be compiling all travelling arrangements and by Thursday, you’ll be at the Garden View Lodge in Mafikeng.” I couldn’t object, it was completely out of my hands. As a breadwinner with a husband who could barely tried to make ends meet, this was something I had to do. This was the not so lovely job description I had to follow through. I wiped the couple of tears that fell down my face, grabbed the newspaper and stormed out of the office. He knew my situation; he knew how I felt about everything, but he just didn’t care. ‘Witchdoctor Mogapi Senaba gets blamed for village terrors’ The headlines stared back at me. I stared at the date of publication and felt all sorts of emotions run through me. I was only fifteen, I deserved none of it. They were all just like me, they deserved none of it.

END OF PART ONE.

Thank you for reading. Part two will be dropped once this reaches a minimum of 100 reads.