In the spirit of being different and constantly striving for the impossible, I took an opportunity to blog on behalf of Natalie as she was taking a vacation.
The chance appeared to be an opportunity for me to express a side of myself that I would not normally express on my own blog. Perhaps still too afraid of the ever piercing eyes of my small circle of readers. Basically, I wanted to be me, but a different me, the me that I know I am but am too scared to share with people who think they have an entire idea of me.
Because of this freedom, to be me, to express myself to a readership that doesn’t know me and won’t judge me correctly, or incorrectly, for this freedom, I thank Natalie.
Here it is....
On the 7th of August 2013, I was robbed on my way back from school at approximately 18h00, not only of my material possessions, but of the dreams I had invested in those possessions. Robbed of the good that I was planning to do for the very same “type” of people that robbed me. That’s what hurt me the most.
I stay in Joburg and I study in Pretoria, Tshwane University of Technology to be precise. I am studying Quantity Surveying. In my final year. So you can just imagine the inconvenience of losing all of your academic paraphernalia when you are so close to the finish. To make matters worse, I had digitised all my work, course material and goals on to my iPad, which the thugs that got me called a “laptop” when they realised they had left me with something of value.
I lost my iPad with not only my school material on it, but also my music, my raps, my poems and my communicator. I lost my life source. Opening the docket at the police station the following day, I realised that I had been walking around Marabastad all this time with goods over the value of R10 000, including the shoes they took off of my feet. The ironic thing is this: contained within my bag, other than the academic stuff and the money and the phone etc., there was a book called “How To Worry Less About Money” which I hope they are curious enough to read. It’s a good book and I think it will help them…to worry less about money.
Needless to say, I was pretty cut up about the loss and went Facebook that night, cursed out everyone involved and then slept like an unhappy child. The following day, I found myself taking note of the people who were more concerned with the value of goods I lost against the people who were relieved I was still alive. The ones relieved where outweighed by the ones upset about my loss.
After a long period of mourning, in an epiphany, I realised something: I was still alive. I was still alive. I looked in the mirror and saw myself, without an iPad yeah, but still in one piece.
6 nyaope high boys lifted me off of the street after a day of education, choked me to a point of submission and made me give away what I valued most in my life, even after a prolonged scuffle…but I was still alive. No stab wounds, no scars, no iPad, but still in the same packaging God sent me here in. I saw this as a miracle. I still do. I could have been dead. But I’m not. The next natural question for me was “why am I not dead?”…
I’m here for a reason is the reason I have now to live. I may not know it, I may not understand it, but I believe that through a gracious supernatural act expressed through the kindness of the drug boys that robbed me, I am still alive.
And because I understand kindness to be “unmerited favour”, I want to express my gratitude to the thugs that robbed me. Thanking you for taking my stuff and not taking my life. Thank you for sparing me when you didn’t have to. More importantly, thank you for showing me what to value most in life: life itself.
I hope that I can return to Marabastad soon and give them all some cookies. Just to say thank you. I strongly believe in showing gratitude in acknowledgement of kindness exhibited.
I am currently working on a poem with the same title as this blog post “Cookies For Thugs”.