It was a freezing winter morning but it wasn’t the cold or the dimness of winter dawn that scared me. For the first time in my twelve years as an immigrant in South Africa, I was in a mini van taxi, a Kombi as it’s called here and with no other passengers in sight, I froze in fear. Alone and barely able to see the drivers face, I wondered how I got in the minivan taxi in the first place. The driver’s dark hoody covered his ears, his head and what I imagined would be an unfriendly face. In my fear and unease, I tried to make a conversation, to lighten the air. “Unjani,” I said, but there was no response. Could it be my accent? I wondered if my accent had exposed the fact that I was a foreigner, a ngwere-ngwere as he would put it. “Maybe he is Xhosa” I thought. So I made another attempt, but there was still no response. At that point I figured that I was best off shutting up and focusing on if and how I will get to my destination.
With the obvious defeat to make a conversation, I focused on the trip. The drive went on and on, and there wasn’t a single route I could recognize. I wondered what a journey this was.
The driver suddenly took a weird and ugly turn, unlike every other road we had rode, this off ramp had no sign post, we drove for a decent while and arrived at what looked like an abandoned location. It wasn’t your ordinary township, it was different.
As the sun began to make its approach, I realised the houses were not full zinc houses. There were partly brick and partly zinc but not your typical shack. The houses were bigger than your ordinary shack too and with uniform windows and doors. A block of houses stretched an entire street. Well, if you could call it that. Opposite what looked like a street was an open field with big outdoors fires. “This must be the way to get some warmth over here”, I thought.
Eventually, faces began to emerge from the windows, they were all caucasian faces. Not the most pleasant of them, I must confess. Every face that caught my eye looked disillusioned, depressed and sad. But there was no greater sadness than the look in the eyes of this little blonde girl. As our eyes met, I saw a sadness that I had never before beheld. I could not fully comprehend what could be the cause of such fear and sadness in a little girl – so pretty, eyes so blue and hair though unkempt, as sparkly as gold. As I wondered, a drunk looking fellow stumbled out of the grey unpainted door, he looked used and struggled with his zipper for a moment.
The sadness in the eyes of the little blonde girl haunted me and as my driver suddenly pulled over. I thought this was my chance for an escape. “But where do I find refuge?” I was so overwhelmed with fear, the little blonde girl’s house was my likely safe haven. The man in there was gone and maybe I will get to know the cause of such sad eyes too.
When I stepped inside the house, the girl I saw through the narrow window was right in sight, sitting on the floor, with her head stuck between her knees. The sound of my entry didn’t matter, she didn’t even notice. It increased the fear in me, I sat on the floor, as close to her as I could. I dared to ask “Are you okay?” Quite unsure if she would understand my English. After three attempts to get an acknowledgement of my presence, she raised her head. And without a word, she opened her eyes. It wasn’t sadness , this little girl was dead inside and the lifelessness in her eyes ripped my heart apart.
The numbness in her being, the lifelessness in her presence and the utter sorrow and sadness in her eyes was worse than anything I had seen before. The full extent of what she had endured was unclear to me but this child, this little blonde girl must have endured the worst. This was the look of a child who had no idea what was going on in her life, who couldn’t comprehend the things she had been put through.
“Where is your mom? I asked. She responded with tears running down her cheeks. Is it possible she too has been a victim of crime behind closed doors, taken by femicide and gone unaccounted for?
At that point, it occurred to me, I might need my minivan taxi driver after all, with trembling legs, tear running down my cheeks too and with an intensity of cold I had never before felt, I struggled my way out of the house, in the hope to find help, not so much for myself anymore. Help for the little blonde girl.
My driver was standing next to one of the burning fires, I stopped trying to please in a native language and begged, “Please help me, I need your help, please take me to the police” I begged. And as he turned towards me, low and behold, my driver was a white guy too.
In absolutely shock and dismay, I screamed my way up.
And as I sat on my bed, I pondered, I thought about the little blonde girl in my nightmare, I thought about the four year old child, who was raped, strangled and her lifeless body hidden under a bed. Did anyone see her being taken? Did anyone think something didn’t feel right but failed to step up. Could the monster have been stopped? I thought about the numerous cases of abuse and rape that make the headlines daily.
I thought of every young boy, every girl, whose childhood has been stolen. Every child who walks around with eyes that are lifeless , eyes that carry stories of pain and hurt. Stories of abuse and misery untold. And I prayed that as a nation, as a people, as humanity, may we never again look away.
So today, I urge you to take a stand, that for every child that is raped,
#NeverLookAway
For Every boy who is sodomised
#NeverLookAway
For every neighbour who screams in pain and hurt
#NeverLookAway
16 replies on “The little blonde girl in my nightmare”
Wow ???? you have a God given ability to bring stories to life. You bring me into the taxi with you and I feel the cold the unease and even the fear of the h chi old and your fear as you entered the house. This is another epic piece of writing Mbong. Well done! I will not look away or be silent on child abuses of any kind. Thank you for consciousness.
Oh God! I cried throughout this story! Yes it may have been a nightmare but it’s a sad reality we’re living in! And I’ve vowed to never shut up in case anything like this happens to any kid/teenager/adult Male or female whose path I may cross or vice versa! Together we can stand up for these helpless victims till we chase this awful rape monster out of our societies!
The indelible marks that the misdeeds of our environments place on us cannot be underetimated. Your narrative is very captivating and brings to life the indirect effects of abuse with its rippling effects. Thanks for taking us along on this journey.
Hi Mbong. Very interesting!I fully support feminism. It is the most ethical to support.I would like my daughters and granddaughters to be treated equally and fairly. Forward with women’s rights!!
Oh my God! for a moment I forgot it’s a recount of a nightmare as i read. Sadly it’s not a nightmare for many and may I never look away.
Great story telling skills. Wow
May we have the courage to take a stand and speak out. May we be present and vigilant enough to care for and protect our children. May we be compassionate enough to love and treat our fellow man as ourselves.
Thank You for this wake up call.
Wow wow wow.!!! A nightmare indeed , though very true. Very intense and intriguing . Awesome piece.
Looking away for those in need is not my portion . God grant me the courage and wisdom to carry this forth????????
Wow. Wonderful piece. This brought tears to my eyes. I always remind myself that I cannot be wicked or repay evil but abuse to children definitely bring out the worst in me. I want to hurt those evil monsters. We must act.
I did enjoy reading this piece. You pulled me into the world u described. I kept asking and wanting to know as a read along what happens next. Although, I am glad it was just a nightmare, it is sadly a reality for a majority. We all believe ourselves to be having the worst of experiences in life. But the truth is, those experiences is what helps us recognize the struggles in others. which puts us in a much better position to lend a helping hand. #neverlookaway.
A very moving piece. Indeed we need to stop looking away. It is such complacent attitude that feeds the boldness of these predators. They tell themselves, ahh no one will be bold enough to talk. And they continue. As a mother, I pray God heals these little ones. Because only Him can wipe their pain. If a full grown person is knocked down by the pain caused by rape, how more a baby, a child? I always ask myself, what sexual pleasure do these demons seek in babies, children that they can’t get by having a girl friend, an adult who is willing to give them that? How can a father rape his own child? It’s like raping yourself because this child is your flesh and blood. Each time I think of someone doing that to my child, any child around me, I shudder…
#NeverLookAway, we are all we’ve got so let’s show kindness to one another and let justise prevail
Oh my word Scot! I even forgot you were recounting a nightmare and found myself sweating and raging with extreme indignation. Sadly, this is our reality and in some cases, even normalised. My whole body is still shaking after reading your piece. This has awakened a sense of responsibility within me. I promise to never look away or be silent on any form of abuse. You are so blessed for being such a great storyteller. What a skill!
Awesome piece my dear! So emotional that I completely forgot it was a nightmare, why did you wake up bcos I wanted to know more of what happened to this blond girl but glad is not real.
Though a nightmare but this is exactly what is happening around us everyday bcos we careless, thanks alot dear for reminding us of the need to support and not look away. I will never look away, I say No to abuse of any nature.
I love your writing skills, your descriptive ability are impeccable ????. Though it was a nightmare, this is reality to so many around us. Your description of the little blonde girl and the lifelessness in her eyes, brings to mind some of the little ones I see at work. May the perpetrators of such crimes and any other form of abuse never go unpunished. #NeverLookAway
Mbong – this line “it wasn’t sadness , this little girl was dead inside and the lifelessness in her eyes ripped my heart apart.”. I am entranced by your narrative. It makes me think a lot.
“Never look away”.