A Hard Life

Problems were spreading all over the world, but for Lerato, a humble and compassionate person, the problems were at home. “Mama, I don’t like what’s happening here anymore,” Lerato said, her voice trembling. “My father has become a monster; we always live in tears.” Lerato sobbed into her mother's shoulder. Her mother, Mmalerato, looked utterly drained. “This is not a life, my child. I need you to focus on your education and forget about your father,” Mmalerato said, holding her daughter tightly.

Just as they were talking, her husband, Thabiso, stumbled into the room. He reeked of alcohol. “Mmalerato?” He slurred. Without waiting for an answer, he went straight to the cooking pots and wrenched the lids off. “I want food! Can’t you see I’m hungry?” Thabiso shouted, his tone immediately hostile. He was an abusive husband, perpetually rude and aggressive. “Did you buy any food for me to cook?” Mmalerato asked, annoyance barely concealed in her voice. “Don’t you dare talk back to me, you idiot!” Thabiso replied, his emotions surging into a violent rage. “You betrayed me. I married you knowing you would take care of me, and now you are becoming a monster!” Thabiso struck Mmalerato hard. He punched her and finally kicked her as she fell to the floor.

Lerato instinctively rushed forward. “No, Father! Stop! You can’t do this to Mom!” Thabiso immediately redirected his fury. He slapped Lerato across the face, the blow so hard that her lip split and bled. “You will know me,” he growled, before turning and storming into the bedroom.

Lerato moved to her mother, wincing from the pain in her cheek. “Mom, everything will be fine, trust God,” Lerato cried. Just then, Thabiso returned, clutching a gun. When Lerato saw the weapon, she screamed, jumped away from her mother, and ran for the door. Thabiso aimed and fired three times as she fled, but a bullet missed her. She fell on the gate, and she went up and started running, breathing heavy.

Lerato ran blindly until she reached the safety of the mountain. “Why me? Oh, God!” She cried, tears streaming down her bruised cheeks. “I live such a hard life! I almost wish I were dead!” She scrambled up the rocky incline, sobbing with every step. “Should I stand on that rock and throw myself down?” She asked herself, the idea taking root. Lerato reached the highest ledge and stood looking down at the immense drop. “Father God, please forgive me for doing this, but I have no choice.” She took a breath and threw herself forward, rolling violently down the sharp, unforgiving slope.

A while later, a young man named Teboho was out hunting when his dogs began barking fiercely and continuously. Teboho followed the sound to see what had caught their attention. When he arrived, he saw a person lying still on the ground, breathing heavily but clearly injured. “Ausi, what’s wrong? You need help,” Teboho said, rushing to her side. He immediately pulled out his phone and called an ambulance. Lerato tried desperately to speak, but the words wouldn't form. “I… I… help…” Teboho stayed with her, comforting her until the paramedics arrived and took her away.

Later, Teboho met the doctor at the hospital. “Doctor, how is the sister doing?” Teboho asked, his voice full of concern. “She’s doing well considering the circumstances,” Dr. Tau answered. “Can I see her, doctor?” Teboho asked. The doctor allowed him access. When Teboho entered the ward, his heart sank. 

Lerato was hooked up to machines, her life visibly supported by a life supporter machine. “Sister, please get well. I need you to live so you can tell me what happened,” Teboho pleaded, looking at her with deep pity. “Life is truly strange.” Suddenly, the life-support machine began to beep frantically. 

Teboho panicked and rushed out to find help. “Doctor! Doctor! Help, that sister is dying!” The doctors and nurses rushed into the room to save Lerato’s life while Teboho waited outside, pacing nervously. Despite their best efforts, the medical team was unable to save her.

“Brother, are you a relative?” Dr. Tau asked Teboho a few minutes later. “No, I just called the ambulance. I found her lying on the ground; it seemed like she was trying to kill herself,” Teboho explained, wiping a tear from his cheek. He finally grasped the full weight of the situation: Lerato had died. “It’s okay, you can go in peace,” the doctor said, choosing not to share the full details of Lerato's situation.

Abuse causes tragedy; abuse causes unbearable tension. Teboho walked home, overwhelmed with sadness at Lerato’s death. “I feel so sorry for that poor lady. She could have gone to a therapist,” he muttered to himself, asking question after question. “I need to know what happened to her.”

Teboho could not shake the image of the dying young woman. The doctor’s cryptic dismissal, “You can go in peace,” felt like a final, closed door. But Teboho was not ready to leave it closed. He walked back to the exact spot on the mountain path where he had found Lerato. The dry ground still held a faint indentation where she had landed after her fall.

He knelt, running his hand over the dirt, when his fingers brushed against something metallic. It was a spent cartridge casing, small and brassy.

A suicide attempt doesn't leave bullet casings, he thought, his blood chilling.

He pocketed the casing and returned to the village, his sadness replaced by a cold, sharp determination. He needed to find out who Lerato was and what had driven her to that mountain, or who had chased her there.

Teboho spent the afternoon asking around the small, close-knit community. Eventually, an elderly woman reluctantly pointed him toward a small, fenced-off home near the edge of the village. “That’s Thabiso’s house,” she whispered, her eyes full of fear. “They say he beats his family. His wife, Mmalerato, hasn’t been seen since yesterday.”

Teboho approached the house just as the sun was setting. The front door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and stepped into a scene of chaotic silence. Furniture was overturned, a chair lay splintered, and the lingering scent of alcohol and fear hung in the air. “Hello?” He called out.

From the bedroom, a low moan answered him. Teboho cautiously entered the room. Lying on the floor, hidden behind the bed, was Mmalerato. She was covered in bruises, her face swollen, and she was clutching her side, rocking in pain. “Are you Mmalerato? I’m Teboho. I found your daughter, Lerato.” Mmalerato’s eyes widened, filling with fresh tears. “My baby… Lerato… is she alive?” Teboho dropped to his knees. “I’m so sorry. She died at the hospital. I found her on the mountain.” Mmalerato wept, her body shaking uncontrollably. “He did it… Thabiso did this to us. He shot at her. He thought he killed me, too.”

Teboho helped Mmalerato up, realizing she needed immediate medical attention, but also knowing he couldn't just call an ambulance. If Thabiso were nearby, he would return and finish the job. “Where is Thabiso now?” Teboho asked urgently. “I don’t know. He went out after he fired the gun. He thought I was unconscious, maybe dead,” Mmalerato whispered. “He’ll be back for the body.”

Teboho quickly decided. He helped Mmalerato out of the back door, supporting her weight as they stumbled away from the abusive household. “We need to go to the police,” Teboho insisted. “No, they won’t help. He has friends everywhere,” Mmalerato pleaded. “Take me to my sister’s farm, miles away. Please.” Teboho knew the risks, but the fear in his eyes was too real. He helped her into his battered bakkie and drove through the night toward a distant, safe place.

The next morning, after ensuring Mmalerato was safe and receiving care from her sister, Teboho went straight to the nearest police station. He walked in, placed the bullet casing on the desk of the officer, and began to tell the whole story: the mountain, Lerato's death, the condition of Mmalerato, and the perpetrator, Thabiso. The officer listened, initially skeptical, but the sight of the evidence and the severity of the alleged crimes made him call for backup. A team was dispatched to Thabiso’s house, and a warrant was issued for his arrest on charges of attempted murder (of Mmalerato) and murder (of Lerato), even though Lerato’s death was ultimately caused by her fall. Thabiso's abuse was the direct catalyst.

Teboho knew his journey wasn't over. He had stepped out of his quiet life as a hunter and into a battle for justice, determined that Lerato's final act of desperation would not be ignored, and that Mmalerato would finally be safe.

Thabiso awoke in his car, parked miles away in a grove of eucalyptus trees. The memory of the previous night was a fog of rage and cheap alcohol, but two facts were chillingly clear: he had shot at his daughter, Lerato, and he had left Mmalerato for dead. He hadn't bothered to check if either was truly gone; he was too drunk and too focused on self-preservation to face the mess he'd created.

He drove back toward his house, needing to confirm his wife's death and dispose of the gun. As he neared the edge of the village, he saw the telltale blue and white of a police vehicle parked outside his home. A wave of panic washed over him, sobering him instantly. He slammed on the brakes and reversed sharply, vanishing down a hidden dirt road just as the police team entered his property.

Thabiso knew he couldn't stay in the area. His reputation as a volatile, drinking bully would make him the immediate focus of any investigation. He needed two things: money and distance. He drove to the home of a distant, estranged cousin, Vuyo, who worked at a local gold mine. Vuyo owed Thabiso an old debt. Thabiso found Vuyo just returning from a night shift, exhausted and wary. “I need money, Vuyo. A lot of it,” Thabiso demanded, his hand nervously patting the hidden handgun. Vuyo looked at his cousin, noticing the wild, desperate look in his eyes. “What have you done, Thabiso? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Thabiso’s voice was dangerously low. “Don’t ask questions. Give me the cash you have, all of it and I’ll be gone. If you call the police, I’ll find you. You know I will.” The threat was clear and effective. Vuyo, terrified, handed over a meager but valuable sum of cash he had saved.

Now funded, Thabiso’s immediate goal was the border. He decided his best bet was to flee across the border into Lesotho, where he had distant family connections and believed the local police would be less motivated to pursue a South African domestic dispute case.

He drove his car as fast as the winding, rural roads would allow, constantly checking his rearview mirror for police pursuit. He abandoned his vehicle in a dense thicket about five kilometers from the most remote, least-used mountain crossing point. He stripped his car of any identifying information and started the hike, relying on his years of hunting knowledge to move silently through the bush.

As he walked, a single, toxic thought solidified in his mind: Lerato’s death was Mmalerato’s fault. If she had just kept quiet and cooked his food, none of this would have happened. His own rage and violence were completely justified in his distorted worldview. He was not fleeing justice; he was fleeing betrayal.

Just as he reached the final ridge overlooking the border fence, he heard the faint but unmistakable whirring of a police helicopter in the distance. The net was closing faster than he had anticipated. He dropped to his belly and began crawling, every nerve ending screaming at him to disappear.

Meanwhile, the police helicopter spotted Thabiso crawling near the border fence, attempting to disappear into the mountainous terrain. The ground units, guided by the helicopter’s reports, closed in swiftly. Two officers, Sergeant Moeketsi and Constable Zungu, approached Thabiso on foot, shouting demands. “Thabiso! Stop right there! Put your hands up!” Sergeant Moeketsi yelled, leveling his sidearm. Thabiso, cornered and desperate, realized he had nowhere left to run. He knew if he was caught, he would face years in prison for his abuse and his daughter’s death. Driven by paranoia and panic, he pulled the pistol from his waistband. “Stay back! Don’t come any closer!” Thabiso screamed, his eyes darting frantically between the two officers.

He raised the gun and fired a single, wild shot in their direction. The bullet splintered a rock near Constable Zungu's foot. “He’s firing! Return fire!” Sergeant Moeketsi ordered over the crackle of his radio. The officers immediately opened fire. Three precise shots rang out, striking Thabiso in the leg and shoulder. The impact spun him around, and he fell heavily onto the harsh ground, the handgun skittering several meters away across the rocks. The officers rushed forward, immediately securing the weapon. Thabiso lay there, bleeding, his resistance broken, the years of unchecked rage finally culminating in his violent, painful capture. The police secured his hands in cuffs, and the call went out for a medical team to treat his wounds before transporting him into custody. Thabiso’s reign of terror was officially over.

At her sister’s farm, Mmalerato began the slow, agonizing process of physical and emotional recovery. Her sister and extended family shielded her, providing a safe haven where she could grieve her daughter, Lerato, without the constant fear of Thabiso’s return.

The first few days were marked by deep, silent sorrow. The news of Thabiso’s violent arrest, though reassuring, did little to soothe the wound of losing Lerato.

However, Teboho’s kindness, a stranger who had become her unexpected savior, offered a flicker of hope. He visited Mmalerato regularly, providing updates on the legal case and assuring her that he would testify. “Lerato was so brave, Mmalerato,” Teboho told her one afternoon. “She ran to protect you. She showed immense strength.” Mmalerato slowly started to believe that the strength her daughter showed was a legacy she had to carry on. She received counseling, slowly learning to confront the trauma and replace the fear with the resolve to build a new life. She realized her identity was not tied to being Thabiso’s victim, but Mmalerato, a woman who had survived and who still had a future.

With Thabiso facing serious charges, including attempted murder of his wife and aggravated assault leading to his daughter’s death, Mmalerato filed for divorce. She also decided to honor Lerato’s sacrifice by supporting local campaigns against domestic violence.

Mmalerato knew the pain would never entirely disappear, but standing in the sunlight on her sister’s farm, breathing truly free air, she knew she had reclaimed her life. She looked forward, determined to find peace in a life free of tension, a life where her daughter’s memory was one of courage, not just tragedy.

Brian Makara, 2025.