Strength Looks Different Now
1149 Words
I was standing at the gate like I always did now — one hand on the pillar, the other hanging loose at my side.
Waiting. Watching. Thinking.
Uncle Sibusiso came walking down the road, acting normal, hands in his pockets like a man with a clear conscience.
“I want to talk,” I said.
He stopped, raised his eyebrows as if I was the one confusing him.
“What’s going on at home?”
He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket — slow, too slow — like he needed the smoke to cover his guilt.
“What do you mean?” he said, lighting it.
I swallowed hard, trying to control the shake in my hand.
“Come on, Uncle… You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
He took a long drag of the cigarette, exhaled, eyes on the ground.
“You know I stay in the back room,” he said casually.
“About everything else? Ask your brothers. Even Joshua knows.”
Something inside me cracked quietly.
He walked away before I could say another word.
Joshua was sitting by the water tank later that day, head down, drawing lines in the sand with a stick.
I called him.
“Joshua… look at me.”
He looked up slowly — fear already in his eyes before I even spoke.
“What’s really going on?”
His lips trembled before any words came out.
“They… They are all in this,” he whispered.
“Who?”
He looked around to make sure no one was watching.
“Uncle Sibusiso… Edward… Onnie…”
My chest tightened so fast I almost lost my breath.
“Joshua… are you sure?”
His head dropped.
“Please, bhuti… Please don’t tell them I told you,” he begged. “They will say I’m betraying them. They will chase me away…”
I felt something sink deep inside me.
Like a stone.
Cold. Heavy. Unbelievable.
My own brothers. My own uncle. People I protected, fed, defended, and sacrificed for.
And Joshua — the one boy I treated like my own — was the only one brave enough to tell me the truth.
I placed my hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
But inside… I was bleeding.
I wanted to confront all of them. I wanted answers. I wanted to scream.
But Joshua’s fear sat heavy in my heart.
I had no choice but to carry the truth alone. To bury it just to protect him — a child who didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle.
Even though it was killing me softly.
After a few days, I was outside again — shirtless in the heat, just my shorts and flops, wiping sweat from my face. The sun stung my scar on the back of my shoulder — the scar everyone in the neighborhood knew.
A woman from my street walked into the yard.
I knew her. She once lived opposite my mother. A quiet woman — but never careless with words.
She scanned me from head to toe.
Her eyes paused on my scar.
And suddenly, her expression changed — not anger, not shock… but pity.
Real, deep pity.
“Where’s your mother?” she asked.
“She’s not here,” I replied.
She stepped closer, lowered her voice like she was afraid someone might hear.
“Listen to me,” she said.
“The man you say stabbed you… is not the man you think it is.”
Then she turned to leave.
I froze.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Wait—what? What do you mean?” I asked.
But she was already walking fast, refusing to look back.
Her words hit me like lightning.
NOT the man I think it is?
My mind started spinning.
Everything I believed… everything I feared… every dream about the man with the K-Way hat…
suddenly felt like a puzzle piece in the wrong place.
If it wasn’t him…
Then who was it? And why hide the truth?
The world around me went quiet.
Too quiet.
Like the moment before a storm breaks.
I walked into LTD Tarven that night with Twice — my long-lost friend who had just returned after years.
We were supposed to catch up, laugh, drink, ease life’s pressure for a moment.
I handed him money. “Go grab some beers,” I said.
He went toward the counter while I scanned the place for a quiet corner away from the loud speakers and the noise.
I found it — the last table against the wall. Perfect.
I pulled out a chair, sat down, and started scrolling through my phone.
Then I heard a lady shouting.
Her voice carried above the music — sharp, annoyed, coming from my direction.
I turned behind me, trying to see who she was yelling at.
Nobody… just people minding their own business.
When I turned forward again — she was suddenly right in front of me.
I stood up halfway from the chair, surprised.
“You talking to me?” I asked.
She slapped her hand on the table and snapped,
“We were sitting here!”
I looked at the table. It was big enough for five more people.
“There’s no need to shout,” I said calmly. “We can sit together. The table is big enou—”
I didn’t finish the sentence.
A sharp, burning pain tore into my upper back — left shoulder.
A blade.
No warning. No argument. No reason.
Just pain.
I spun around in shock.
People screamed. Chairs fell. Glass broke.
And there he was — a guy from downtown.
Eyes full of rage. Hand raised again.
Something in me snapped.
I grabbed him.
My hand locked around the same arm holding the blade. We fought. I didn’t even feel the pain anymore — just fire, fury, survival.
The crowd tried pulling us apart, but he wouldn’t let go of the knife.
Even after they separated us, he tried lunging at me again, desperate to escape through the people to reach me.
I stood ready, watching every move he made. If he came again, I was going to finish it.
Then suddenly… warmth.
Down my face.
People gasped. Someone shouted, “He’s bleeding!”
Minutes later, adrenaline faded and I felt it — the dizziness, the cold sweat, the spinning room.
My knees weakened.
I almost collapsed.
Twice appeared out of nowhere, grabbing me under the arm with one hand, dropping the beers with the other.
“Sharp, sharp, let’s go! Let’s go!!”
He dragged me toward the exit, my vision fogging, the tarven lights blurring into streaks.
My blood left a trail behind us as he rushed me out of LTD, calling for help, praying I didn’t fall unconscious right there.
That was the night I almost died.
- Writer
