Nkosinathi and his boys saw their target in front of them, and trailed along right behind him. The target remained oblivious and completely ignorant to the fact that he was being hunted. The day about to come to an end with midnight drawing closer, owls croaked in the distance and a soft breeze added an element of mystery to the dead silence of the neighbourhood.
And then they struck! Nkosinathi sprinted, he jumped into the air at the peak of his sprint, left leg up and jolted foward, the base of his left foot driving into right shoulder of their target. The man in his mid-thirties fell to the ground, on his hands and knees. Trembling and crumbling in fear, he drowned in his trauma. One of Nkosinathi's boys (crime partners) snatched his laptop bag. While the other proceeded to kick him countless times.
Nkosinathi pulled out a pistol that was sitting by his back, on his trousers, he cocked it and pointed straight at the head. Nkosinathi's partner had stopped kicking by then.
The man was on his knees, shaking violently. “Take out the money! Take it out now!” Nkosinathi demanded.
Apart from the laptop. The man had submitted a gold plated watch, a wallet filled with R2000, a jacket and an expensive tie. Sadly, he also sustained a beating and took home with him several bruises that were clearly visible.
Nkosinathi and his gang boys were proud of themselves, they enjoyed the money ofcourse and sold the laptop for a price that brought them jubilance. An abundance of it actually.
The following week: a college boy they had been stalking for a few days was their next hit. The loot they obtained from him was not as exciting as the businessman who they got the laptop from. All this college boy had had for them was a lousy old-fashioned iphone and only R150. They beat him for that. This time they didn't leave bruises – like the businessman, they left an unconscious boy covered in open wounds that blood flowed from.
One of Nkosinathi's partners in crime had aimed the pistol at the boy's head, Nkosinathi had talked him out of pulling the trigger. He had a way with words, no matter how angry either of his crime partners (boys) were, he was able to calm them down.
Nkosinathi and his boys had been doing this a long, long time now. If Life had the ability to talk, the stories it would share about their journey, would probably give any willing listener a heart attack. Or better yet, should it be that all the people who they ever wronged came forth and spoke up, the horrors within the countless stories would be something overwhelming if they were to be put into one gigantic container.
Anyways, another week had passed by. Their next victim… a young woman — in working class. They had caught her at a bad time of the month. Her wallet… just a useless R20 note. At least the phone and the watch had redeemed her.
They didn't lay a hand on her, thank goodness! The only thing she carried home that she had received from them… a boat load of trauma.
Nkosinathi had received a warning from his brother, a Sangoma heeded a warning. The Sangoma had told Nkosinathi's brother that Nkosinanthi shall meet with a very ill fate if he continues his journey along this dark, haunted road of bringing pain and sadness unto others.
Nkosinathi brushed off his younger brother and warned him not to interfere in his affairs. His brother, being one who doesn't force nor beg people, happily obliged and left his brother to enjoy his freedom. Ofcourse he had asked the Sangoma to speak to the Elders in Spirit on Nkosinathi's behalf and plead for mercy unto Nkosinathi.
Nkosinathi and his boys continued, robbing and beating people and enjoying a life with no sweat. No struggle. No hardwork. Everything was handed to them on a silver platter. The world was theirs. Well that's what they had told themselves, at some point in time somewhere or something like that.
Littel did they know, some were plotting revenge against them, and word spread like wildfire around the community. They were quickly becoming more popular than they could contemplate. Some had sworn an oath to hunt them down. And so Nkosinathi and his boys became targets, they were now the ones to be followed by danger.
A young man, in his mid-twenties was walking early hours of the day – just before sunrise and on his way to work. He was bewildered as three men approached him from behind, one pushed him to the floor. And the one who appeared to be a leader pulled out a gun by his back and held it to his face.
The man had told the three of them to goto hell. The gang leader didn't take that well, he swung his arm and smashed the gun into the man's face. The three men proceeded to stamp on him incessantly, they then searched him, took his belongings and left.
Something had stopped the gang leader from pulling the trigger and ending the man's Life. He never had tolerance for insolent victims, it was everyone's responsibility to submit to him. Those who didn't submit, deserved to die! Nkosinathi believed that with all of his heart.
The man got up and realized his brand new cloths are heavily battered with a thick layer of brown dust. A trail of blood flowed down the side of his head. Enraged he was, a fire burnt within him. And in the very moment, he had sworn to set the Gods of Karma loose on those men. And so… he went home, got himself cleaned up and approached what appeared to be his Altar, where he spoke with his Ancestors. This man's name was Sivuyile.
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