Death on a Window

Death on a Window

By Kgobalale Peter Moruthane

Sepeketere was her name;
So good to everyone she was;
A mother to all;
And a sister to all;
But her death
Was a horrible thing I never saw.

She died a horrible death;
People watching;
But being useless to help;
Men and women were watching;
When a mother of all was killed.

I thought I would never;
I would never talk about it;
But now I think I have to;
Because it is something that kills me;
This woman was everything to me;
And her death really touched my feelings.

Children and adults;
Watching with silent;
Taking their hope to one person;
My mother Maselatole;
Who was morethan 50 Kilometers away;
They still continued to believe;
That she is the only one;
To stop the horrible death.

I was still young;
But I still recall;
Each and every moment;
Before her death;
And the time she was dying.

It was in the afternoon;
Before the horrible thing, death;
She called all of us at home;
My mother was not there;
And we had no phone to call her.

She gave us sweets and oranges;
And this is what she told us;
I am giving you this;
Because it is the last day of my life;
You will never see me again;
If someone comes here;
Tell her/him I am not in;
We did not get the meaning;
Of what she was saying.

At around 20:00;
There was a knock at the gate;
Before someone can open;
Two armed men were already inside;
“Where is Sepeketere?” they said.
“She is not around” my mother’s sister in law answered.

Sepeketere tried to lock herself;
Inside a separate two roomed mud house;
This two armed men;
Were the sons of her brother;
Who alleged her of being a witch;
The knocked at the door;
And there was no respond.

Within a minute;
One of them went to a window;
And tried to break it;
Sepeketere inside;
Tried to stop him;
From entering the house;
Who was she fooling;
Because they wanted to.

Suddenly a cry from the window;
Do not kill me!
Do not kill me!
She shouted;
The guy was using a very thick, heavy stick;
To break her head.

People after hearing the screams;
They came from all around the village;
Stood outside and watched;
I did not know what to say or do;
Because I was still young.

A car was hired;
To go and collect my mom;
Who was many miles away;
To come and stop the incident;
I looked at those people;
They expect one women;
To stop it coming from more than 50 miles away!
Why do not they help?
Thai is what I asked my self.

The minutes my mom arrives;
The body of Sepeketere was lying down
At the centre of Lapa;
She was dead;
There is none thing she asked;
And I will never forget it;
Why are you here;
She was asking the crowd.

Five days after the incident;
She was buried;
At Mohlaletse Cemetery.

We tried to cope;
But it was difficult;
It was very difficult to my mom;
Each and every minutes;
When she think about it;
She cries a lot;
Asking her self the same question;
How can people let someone die;
Saying they are waiting for someone;
Who is 50 miles away?

Her death is a pain in my heart;
It is a scar that will never disappear;
Her death made me to hate;
I will never forget her.