The Artist

I awake early,  at 5:30 and the cold air rushes through me as I lift my blanket to pack up and clean the area where I spend most of my time. Just before the first faces of people who I now know and sometimes greet start walking through the avenue, I sit and meditate. I sit and spiritual call upon the Jehovah to come within me and lead me into grace and not let me yield away from the foundation or the creator, whom I recreate in the flesh.
I  was gang raped when I was 18 by neighbourhood boys that I grow up with. They invited me for drinks late one evening, as one of them had just came from the bush and was now a man. As I refused to be a victim of their evil acts, that was the beginning of my spirituality.
I continued with life and was faced with another attack a few months later. This time it was from my mother’s husband. I have sixteen stitches on my head from when he stormed into my room as I was sleeping, yelling at me for leaving bread crumbs in the kitchen.  He beat me with a wooden table stand that left me bleeding. Later, he said that my being a lesbian disgusted him and that was the reason he did what he did.I  went and opened a case against him. I didn’t go through with it after a family meeting was held, and everyone felt it was best that I didn’t get him arrested.

2 thoughts on “The Artist

  1. Hi Chuma,
    We just watched the story about you on Carte Blanche and we are beyond moved.
    We noticed that you said you wanted to study and my dad would like to help you with that.
    Please contact him on
    All the best with your art career ! X


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