WHAT IS YOUR STORY?

"Behind a mask of a clown, lies a trail of tears".

In life, everybody has a story to tell, one way or the other, but people have their own stories.

Some might have already shared their stories, others might be scared and decide to keep it to themselves, and others have not yet found the softest spot to share it. Either way, one always has a story to tell.

Below is a story of a young man, adopted when he was little, He tells his story in an unpleasant place. 

My father often told me that, “behind a clown’s mask lies a trail of tears.” Unfortunately, during my younger years, his saying did not make any sense. I could not grasp the true meaning of the phrase.

As I grew up, hearing him saying it again and again, I began to learn the true meaning of it. He went on and said “Son, the world is a stage, so go on and make your own story".

Yes, it is true! In prison one has plenty of time to think about what one would have done with their lives. I tell you, one can do anything to keep themselves busy, otherwise that place can drive you crazy.

Through prison life, some inmates end up developing new habits which they call "hard-to-break" prison habits. Well, apart from losing their dignity, some develop new habits of painting, doing laps, card games, etc. The most crucial habit that one needs to develop as quickly as possible when arriving in prison is the habit of not pulling your pants all the way down in the bathroom, yes that is right! No taking them all the way down!

Just to keep my mind busy, I spend a lot of my time in the prison library, reading and writing. I am doing that because I am running away from what I did outside. I keep reading because I have hope of forgetting. Probably other inmates have the same reasons as mine.

Ever since I got to prison, I have never had a peaceful night’s sleep. “Yes, it is not supposed to be nice and peaceful”, angrily and arrogantly said one warder when I complained about my snoring cellmate, Mdue. His snoring was unbearable, so it kept me up all night. I hated sleeping time because I knew I would be awake almost all night long. 

Some of the inmates kept comforting me, telling me that I would get used to it, but to me that was not convincing!

One day, in the middle of the night, my awake cellmates noticed that I was also awake. “You usually stay awake at night, I have noticed”, said one inmate.

“You seem like a nice guy Donut, what brings you to this hell place?”, Mandla asked. Mandla slept on the bed opposite to ours.

Donut is not my real name, it is a name I got upon my arrival in prison. I guess my undying love for donuts gave me the name.

Anyway, my real name is Sakhumuzi Christian Bhembe. I was born in a small village called Mgidzangcunu, in the Eastern part of the Lubombo region, Eswatini, formerly known as Swaziland. 

Rumour has it that I was born of a young teenage couple. I never knew them or even their story. All I knew is that I was found in a garbage bin outside a local tavern, wrapped in baby blankets, covered by bottles and cigarette buds.

Despite being thrown into the garbage bin, I had the privilege to be found by a loving woman. She was a bar lady, married to a painter. By that time of my arrival, they didn't have kids. The couple took me in, made me their own and named me Sakhumuzi. They believed I was brought to them by God.

From their low income, struggling and hustling, my parents gave me the best childhood I could ever hope for. A childhood where I never felt for a single moment that I was ever fished out of a garbage can. In return, I wanted to please my parents, wanted them not to regret taking me in, so I excelled in my Grade 7 studies. I passed with a merit! My parents were so proud of me, telling everybody that they have a smart kid who one day will be a doctor. Well, my interests were to be a soccer player, being a doctor was too far from my thoughts.

You know what they always say: "Education is the key to life, once you get your degree, you will not even spend a month unemployed". Well, that's bullshit! 

In 2020, I graduated from the University of Swaziland, with a lot of hope and belief that finally my dreams would come true. Sometimes I would day-dream about what my life would be like, working, having my own space, having kids, all those! 

Six months after graduation, a bitter taste of reality kicks in. Sitting at home, unemployed and the government decided to nail the last nail by proudly saying that it has not hired teachers since 2016, and not looking to hire either, not anytime soon. I got devastated, thought about taking my own life, and when the unemployment rate got higher, I knew I was part of it.

One day, while I was moving around, looking for piece jobs with no luck, I came across an old friend, Fezile. He was a drop-out, but his life was flourishing, making big bucks. His dress code, the car he drove, was evidence that he was loaded. That very moment I said, "I want his life. I want to be like him".

He started telling me about his work, what he does and everything. I knew that being in drug dealing was going to be easy, so, without wasting time, I quickly said, "I am in, njayami!"

Few months later, I was almost living the life of my dreams. Spending money in nightclubs was not an issue. Sometimes, I would even spend more than 5,000 a night, buying expensive booze and spending on girls.

We cruised nicely, everything went accordingly such that we even got greedy and started not to pay bribes to the officers that were our look-out, so we got caught.

"That is my story and that is why I am here!"

Immediately after finishing my story, Mandla popped in and told his story.

"I wore my first pair of school shoes when I was in grade 6, life was tough. I was a laughing stock at school, some children would even bully me because I couldn't afford them, so I stole them. 

“My 83-years-old grandmother didn't have money. My siblings and I never knew our parents. They left us with our granny. I was the eldest amongst them, so I was responsible to look out for them. At a young age, I had to hustle food for us to eat. 

“That is how I started being a thief, for 25 years I have been in the game of crime. But I guess crime does not pay because look at me now, I got caught and I will be in here for 20 years".

As soon as Mandla finished telling his story, Sipho popped in with his story from the other side of the bed.

"I come from a wealthy family, but my drug addiction forced me into crime. My father kicked me out after trying several times to send me to rehab, to get help. Instead, I was running away, looking for drugs. One day I robbed a white man. Unfortunately, I did not know he was a cop, so I got arrested. I called my mother, but she never came through for me. She just said, ‘I think you deserve to be there, maybe you will think harder with what you want in your life’. That bitch!! Anyway, I think it is better here because I get a meal every day".

"I can also tell you my story", a voice out of nowhere came in. "It is a story of most people in the working space. Do not be fooled by big smiles, most of us are deep in debts, struggling financially, and I am one of those. All the years I have been working, I just have nothing to show for it besides the payslips. My salary doesn't last me until the next payday. Without the bribes I get from you guys, I would have been nothing or probably be dead. I do not blame those workers who commit suicide because they are deep in debts, it is tough".

So, the reality is, behind those big, fake smiles, lies a sad and confused face. People are hurting, some cannot even share their stories because they are public figures. 

Anyway, tell me, what is your story?