THE UNEXPECTED JOURNEY

 Moabi was exhausted, and it was a busy day in town. His sample catalogue was tucked under one arm, and a forced smile was plastered to his face. “Afternoon, sir! May I interest you in…..”

“Not now!” the man snapped, brushing past without a second glance.

Moabi exhaled and tugged at his shirt collar. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows. He checked his watch. He wasn’t just tired, he was invisible. Even with a job at a furniture store that paid commission, Moabi felt empty, like a background character in someone else's success story. Dreams of becoming someone important once burned brightly in him. Now, they flickered like dying embers.

 

That evening, he slumped onto a stool in a crowded tavern, beer in hand, shoulders heavy. “This job…” he muttered, “it’s eating me alive.” Across from him, Phehello raised a brow. 

“You’re not the only one who started from nothing, my friend.”

“I envy those salary people,” Moabi said, his eyes drifting over the crowd of laughing, carefree workers. “Month-end, and I can barely afford a drink.”

“Don’t lose hope. Everyone's story takes a turn, maybe yours is coming.” They clinked glasses, and for a moment, the world didn’t seem so cold.

 

Hours later, Moabi walked home under the faint glow of flickering streetlights. The wind whistled and it was a cool night. Within the blink of an eye, he heard someone moaning. His heart leapt. He grabbed a stone from the road, eyes scanning the shadows. “Who’s there?” He barked, voice trembling. Lying at the edge of the sidewalk was a young woman, bruised and motionless. Blood traced a thin line down her cheek. “Hey! Can you hear me?” He whispered, crouching beside her. Her hand lifted weakly. “Please... help me…” Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone. “Ambulance! Hurry, please. She’s in bad shape.” His voice cracked. Moabi waited there until the paramedics arrived. “I’ll go with her. She’s... my sister.”

 

At the hospital, Moabi paced the corridor like a lion in a cage. When the doctor gave him permission to visit, he entered the ward carefully. Pontsho's eyes snapped open. The beeping of machines filled the silence.

“Hey... you’re safe now,” Moabi said gently. Pontsho became scared, and she was not herself. She reached for the emergency button. “Did Pule send you?” she cried. “Get away from me!”

“No…… wait…… I found you on the street. I helped you!”

A nurse rushed in. “Sir, please leave or I’ll call security.”

“But I called the ambulance!”

“You need to leave. Now.” Moabi left, but the name haunted him: “Pule.”

 

Back at the tavern, he slammed his glass on the table. “Do you know anyone named Pule?” Phehello shook his head. “Why?”

“Pontsho… she thought I was sent by him. I think she’s a victim of gender-based violence.” His friend fell silent, lips pressed tight.

“We need to do something,” Moabi insisted.

“That man can’t get away with it.”

 

Days later, Moabi visited the hospital again. From the hallway, he saw Pontsho in her bed, eating quietly. A dark figure entered the room. Pule. Her fork froze mid-air.

“If you scream,” Pule hissed, “you’ll regret it.” Terror gripped Pontsho’s body. Her hand inched toward the emergency button.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled.

“I said leave her alone!” Moabi stormed in.

Pule spun around. “Who are you?”

“I’m the man who picked her up off the street, and I’m not afraid of you.”

Pule sneered, but Moabi stepped forward and threw a punch, hard and fast. Blood dripped from Pule’s nose. He retaliated. They tumbled to the floor.

“Security!” Pontsho screamed and slammed the emergency button. Orderlies burst in, pulling the men apart. Pule lunged for the door but was blocked by security. “I will get you,” Moabi panted. “She’s not your victim anymore.” Pule was arrested.

 

At the court trial, Pontsho testified with trembling hands but an unwavering voice. Moabi sat in the gallery, pride swelling in his chest. Weeks later, Moabi stood outside the furniture store, catalogue in hand. Pontsho approached. 

“Are you selling couches?” she asked, smiling. Moabi smiled back.

“Yes, and I promise they’re the most comfortable in town.” Pontsho thanked Moabi for what he had done. “You are the kindest man in the world, and I appreciate that,” Pontsho smiled and hugged him. It was the most interesting moment for both of them, and they became friends. “Thank you,” Moabi said and smiled.

“I am inviting you to lunch if you don’t mind,” Pontsho said. Moabi agreed, and they had lunch.

 Copyrighted by Brian Makara, 2025.