Gut feeling

I’ve always been a very intuitive person. Time and time again, my gut feeling has gotten me out of trouble and kept me safe. However, the one day I chose not to listen, my life changed forever…

It all began on a typical Saturday during the height of summer. I was at a bustling, busy Shisanyama deep in the township of Soweto, where I worked as a waiter. There, I found comfort and happiness in the intoxicating scent of juicy meat on the braai stand, the relaxed conversations amid the ear-splitting “Kasi” music, and I enjoyed the company of my workmates, particularly Alex, the resident “braai master”. Alex was blessed with obsidian eyes that pierced my soul, a beautiful smile, brilliant enough to light up an entire room. And, he always smelled of lavender, even after long hours working the braai stand. That day, nothing, except for Alex’s behaviour, was out of the ordinary. Alex and I were in a relationship known only to us, the forces of nature that conspired to unite us, and the hidden spaces that kept our love a secret. However, he was cold and distant, his obsidian eyes resembling storm clouds. Suddenly, a tiny voice whispered, “Beware”, but I took no notice of these words. During our lunch break, at the park, Alex kissed me with an unexpected fervour after ignoring me for the better part of the day. Again, that voice whispered, louder and more adamant than before, “Beware”.

When nightfall came, I received a message from Alex asking me to meet him in the breakroom. Instead of my heart leaping with anticipation, I developed a case of nerves. However, despite the booming repetition of “beware” within my head, I made my way towards the breakroom. The room was pitch black; that was the first red flag. A cold shiver ran up my spine, and my heart began racing as the voice screamed, “RUN, RUN, RUN!” Suddenly, I sensed I was not alone; the room smelled of lavender. I called Alex’s name, but there was no response. Before I could call out his name again, I felt a prick on my neck. Everything went dark…

For the next five years, I worked as a slave for wealthy merchants on the island of Madagascar. I was whipped as I toiled for hours on end, completing back-breaking labour underneath the unrelentless African sun. I was starved and denied access to water. When the sun fell, unspeakable crimes were committed against me. I believed that I deserved this fate because I chose not to listen. For five years, I drowned in shame…until I eventually drowned myself in the ocean.

I woke up to the sensation of being rocked back and forth, my throat and skin dry like the Sahara. A sailor found me floating on a piece of debris and decided to help me - I was alive, and I wasn’t pleased.