#StorytellingThursday The Gladwin Story (Part 2) - Mega Artists Media

#StorytellingThursday The Gladwin Story (Part 2)

…la tseba batho ba Modimo after my friend delivered the “I’m too young to have a boyfriend” message to Gladwin he decided to be a thorn in my life. He just started stealing my pens and accusing me of stealing them from him, beating, pushing and shoving me for no apparent reason and on Friday afternoons he would wait for me either at the classroom door after school, sometimes even at the gate because the concept of “ke tswalela beke ka wena” was an in thing. I don’t remember very well but I suspect ke ile ka ota ke otiswa ke goba bullied.

Fast forward a few weeks later, gona le round two ya Culture (The annual competitions among different schools from different circuits in different activities) kae kae and the drama group ya skolong sa rena had won the first round, so they were going to compete at district level. It’s Friday and i am just watching the rehearsals tsa drama ye ebe e actiwa ke bo Brenda and Mreiks πŸ˜‚πŸ€£πŸ˜‚, yaz i remember the soundtrack of the drama at the end πŸŽΆπŸŽΆ crime doesn’t pay…committed in every way…crime doesn’t pay, even on a judgement day🎢🎢… anyway Gladwin came out from nowhere guys.

HE just appeared and held me by the neck from the back and with force pushed me right into the window panel. Guys, a forehead is too strong, otherwise that day I would have had my forehead cracked. I did not cry. But I boiled fam. He just pushed me and walked away fam, as if what he just did was taking a piece of wood from his mother’s wood rack and bringing it school so that we can have enough wood to cook us copkhan soup and pap. I just sat there, under that window, listening to the soundtrack of that drama Mashoto a e hlabeletja strong, and decided that I am small but I have to do something. The first thing I thought of was to tell him I was going to tell my father, but I quickly thought that would take long.

Phatla yare go fola phiso ka emelela slowly, took off my buccaneer shoes and went straight to a heap of bricks that the primary school had used us to collect at the Moshatane brick yard for the new staff room building. I took a whole brick and went running in the direction Gladwin went, I found him a maizitje and with all my might aimed his knee and threw the brick. Shem I don’t know if some of the stenas from the Moshatane brickyard were not quality or it was his knee that was hard, but either way, that stena done broke into pieces. Blood gushed and I ran, forgetting my shoes behind. Yaz because he couldn’t run, he went straight to my shoes and tried to rip them into pieces maaar a kreya ele BaccaneerπŸ’ͺπŸ’ͺπŸ’… πŸ€£πŸ˜‚. No bully will ever be able to rip pure leather into pieces. Wa tseba dai man a tlala pelo a vorrrmetja my shoes ka godimo ga class ya standard 3, tja boya tja wela faseπŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚. Ka di topa ka vaya, go vaya I mean running without looking back.

The following day he came to school wearing a bandage, shem skepsel sa batho, and since I laid that brick he has never bullied me again. I am very proud πŸ€—πŸ€— because even after his knee healed, it was still garnished with a scar fam, that to this day I hope reminds him of meπŸ˜€πŸ˜„πŸ’ƒπŸ‘ΈπŸ’† We went to different High schools the following year. Every time I think about what I went through in the hands of that piece of hard marble chappies I feel like I am brushing my teeth with a jeyes fluid and cinammon infused with vors oil flavoured toothpaste. He is not and will never be in my books of the twitter verification sign. πŸ˜‘πŸ˜Ž

The end.

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