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.
It was the beginning of the school year in Gaborone; the girls were finally in standard seven. Kenalemang and Sheila…
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.