The deserted pathways of the ghetto

By Onie Ndoro | Jan. 7, 2024

Vendors sought shelter under their umbrellas as they waited to serve their customers. I was walking briskly with not a care in the world. I had just been paid for the month. I knew my friends, Baba VaTata, Rasta and Fatso would be waiting for me at Zororo Bar.

It was already late. The streets were almost empty as there was a slight drizzle. People quickly sought shelter in their houses.

They knew that I had been paid that day. Paydays were never a secret in the ghetto. It was easy to spot someone who had been paid by the quantity of groceries being bought and the excitement. On paydays mannerisms changed and were a dead giveaway. Those were some of the things people in the ghetto easily noticed. And if you wanted to borrow money, there could be no better day. After that you could not get anything at all.

I was thinking of giving Zororo Bar a wide berth and head home straight away. As one of my resolutions of the year, I had decided to declare all my earnings to Mai Maidei and work around our budget together.

There were not many people on the streets as the light drizzle had driven people indoors. To completely by pass Zororo Bar, l took a deserted shortcut that passed by Rujeko Clinic. Behind me was the police station, but there was a fence separating the police station and the clinic. The shortcut was like a narrow corridor and would take me straight to Hwata Street.

And as soon as I entered the deserted footpath, three guys I had not noticed before overtook me and went ahead of me.

I heard whistling behind me. I noticed that suddenly behind me there were two other guys. It was like they appeared from nowhere.

It happened so quickly. I had the presence of mind to take my wallet from my pocket and throw it surreptitiously in the hedge which marked the boundary with the clinic.

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I knew that I was about to be mugged and all my month’s salary was in the wallet. The three guys who had advanced ahead of me suddenly made a U-turn and started coming back for me. Behind me were two other guys. I was completely emasculated.

I felt hopeless. I was trapped. The distance was fast closing. The guys were so sure of themselves. I acted normal like I had no suspicion at all.

I took a deep breathe. I felt like a trapped animal. And a trapped animal in a confined space is very dangerous. By now I was bouncing on my feet and ready to spring.

Before they knew what was happening, I took off like a bullet from a gun. I hit one of the three guys in front of me with all the force I had. As he fell to the ground I heard yelling of dismay from the other guys.

The cover of darkness helped me make good my escape or so I thought. I could always come back for my wallet when it was safe to do so.

Just as I reached Hwata Street when I thought I was now safe, I was confronted with two more guys who were welding pangas and looked more menacing. All escape routes were closed. One of the guys suddenly put a foot in my way. I tripped and fell headlong into a ditch. The impact shook me to the bone. The other members of the gang by now had arrived, panting breathlessly.

I was pulled out of the ditch and someone hit my pelvic area. I felt the pain spread all over my body in even portions. My pockets were frisked out while two or three guys had me pinned to the ground in a firm grip.

“He has no money.”

They did not find any money on me.

They took my shoes, my phone and shirt. I was kicked all over the body. Before they left, someone kicked me in the mouth and one of my incisors fell out. Blood oozed out of my mouth.

They left me for dead and that is how I was found two hours later by some neighborhood watch men. I learnt the hard way that dark deserted roads were to be avoided at all costs.

Onie Ndoro is a an IELTS tutor, ghostwriter and storyteller. For feedback: X@Onie90396982/email:oniendoroh@gmail.com 0773007173