What the F...

Some years back, I was renting a back-room run by a very religious and peaceful family. A routinely prayerful family which attended church services together. Just the type of family set up I wished to have in future.

As a graphics designer, I am used to busy schedules. So, this particular Sunday was nothing unusual. I was asked to design a very challenging poster for a well-paying client and it took most of my time.

Just a few minutes before finishing the poster, my sister gave me a call to assist her in one of her assignments which was due before midnight. I did not resist, I just agreed.

I could hear people arguing loudly in the compound, it was my landlord and his wife. They would have some arguments in the past, but, even then, only when their children were away.

As the argument escalated, becoming louder and louder, I decided to put on my headsets to keep myself away and concentrate on the work before me.

While I was still focusing on what I was doing, I heard loud noises like gunshots. In shock, I took off my headset to hear what was happening. I checked the time, and it was around 10pm. Nervously, I slowly opened my door to check outside to see what was happening, but it was quiet.

The lights were still on at my landlord’s house, but the fighting had stopped.

“At least the drama has died down now”, I silently assured myself as I closed my door.

A few minutes later, nature called.

On my way out, I realised that my landlord’s back-door, from the kitchen side, was wide open. From outside, I could see through to the sitting room. Some of the furniture was upside down and the house was a mess. From the look of things, you could see that the argument ended in a physical fight.

When I came back, things were still the same. The way things were. The deafening silence told me something was wrong.

Yes, they fight but they do not ever sleep leaving doors open and lights on. Just like they say, curiosity killed a cat, so I decided to enter to check them out.

“Knock! Knock!... Anybody home?”, nobody answered. It was quiet.

I knocked again louder this time, but no one answered. “Mr Simelane, is everything okay, sir? Mama, is everything alright?” Completer silence continued to be the response returned to me.

“What the f***k!!” I said silently, approaching the sitting room where there was blood everywhere. It was splashed on the walls, running in dark rivulets along the floor. The wall behind the armchair sprayed carried the most blood.

By the look of things, my landlord had just killed his wife. Also on the chair, the landlord’s wife’s head was rolled slightly to one side, as if she was conscious. The blood and everything that was there, it was my landlords’ wife.

After seeing the state of my landlord’s wife, I rushed outside, shouting and screaming for help. Quickly, the house was surrounded by police officers, reporters and a large crowd of people.

“Seemingly the husband also took his life in one of the bedrooms”, one of the police officers told me.

I now believe when they say not all that glitters is gold. I never thought a religious, prayerful and peaceful family could be in such a dungeon.

Sitting here, all alone, on the first anniversary of that murder and suicide incident, I have nothing else to do but to reflect, and think about life. How do things come to this? Where do they start? What are the first signs? Does it begin with these bruises on my arm?