The question caught me off guard. I turned away from Nathaniel to hide the shame in my eyes. He quickly sensed
the change in my demeanor and rephrased his question.
“I mean, we don’t have to talk
about it but I just wanted to know the first time you were with another guy.”
It was dark, the kind of darkness that prevailed whether your eyes were open or shut. Mary shifted her knee from under her chin; her joints were screaming in pain. Her hands were tightly tied behind her back and the rope they had used felt razor sharp against her wrists.
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Her body lay awkwardly, half of it laid on the carpet, the other half on the tile. Oratile was dead, strangled by him. His admiration of the weather was interrupted by the uncomfortable feeling from the hardness of his erect penis. He was almost finished with her. He mounted himself on top of her and grunted like a beast.
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To Laone, death came slowly and painfully just as Samuel had intended, the very way he had craved it. Samuel could not bear the thought of Laone ever getting close to or loving someone else. If he could not have him then nobody else would.
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As Ntatemogolo finished his sentence, he looked down to see that the herd had reached the edge of the dried Lake Makgadikgadi. With his hoof he scratched the sandy river bed and felt pride well up in his heart. It was always amazing to him that even with very little and with even less water, the herd had come as far as it had. It was not as if there were millions and millions of Zebra and on the grand scheme of things, they did not possess that much wealth. But somehow regardless of obstacles, the herd had put the good of the tribe above personal, selfish gain and worked toward uplifting the herd.
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It was the beginning of the school year in Gaborone; the girls were finally in standard seven. Kenalemang and Sheila were excited because this was the last year of their primary schooling. They were in the same school after Kenalemang was transferred from her old school. Sheila was an average student but Kenalemang was exceptional….
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My dress was bunched around my waist and I lay exposed to this brawny man of West African descent. He had the typical features of a man from that area of Africa, strong
presence of nose, coffee skin tone and a head that was flat at the back. He was what we would call a ‘lekwerekwere’.
“I’m going to put…” he thrust his fingers roughly into me, “… four inside.”
I shut my eyes tightly, grimacing at his sudden invasion of my body. He didn’t bother to use
any form of lubrication nor did he have any gloves on.
