The response to my first expośe was to visit a sangoma to try and kill my investigation. Probably further instructions might have included what needs to happen to the writer. As you all know the investigation is still continuing and the writer is still here – in one piece.
After the latest expośe at Ditau High School I learnt from a very reliable source that a hitman has been commissioned to carry out a hit. I know the alleged hitman as he is alleged to be an ATM bomber who has received military training with the South African National Defence Forces. When I got wind of the tip-off I asked how does an alleged ATM bomber take out a journalist? Blow me with explosives in my house or hide some under a car I’m using? Or as a former soldier he’ll just snipe me from a distance with a rifle. Or maybe send one of his group who don’t know me quite well to cut my throat with a knife and make it look like a robbery.
It might sound strange that I’m not afraid of being a marked man. It does not come as a surprise as a teacher at Ditau High School has been enquiring from friends if I’m married or not. I don’t take kindly to such intelligence gathering gimmicks but my resolve is that I shall not let the truth die because some people want to take me out. I know that the same hitman was hired to kill School Governing Body Chairperson Platus Mokoena. A meeting was arranged in the belly of the night between Mokoena, the hitman and the man who hired him to iron out a deal.
The truth should survive all of us. When we are gone we should be remembered for having championed the truth and put our communities first instead of our narrow selfish materialistic needs. It puzzles me that some people want to be remembered for abusing learners, mismanaging school resources and ordering the murder of journalists.
The community whose stories I keep writing while it maintains its silence in the face of such moral decay should be the ones left with the burden of having amongst its midst people who are willing to sink to killing inorder to conceal their evil deeds. I have recently observed a car following me in the evenings but it’s okay. We all die at some stage.
I told a friend that not only am I not afraid of being killed by the hitman, a boy I grew up with and who I know all too well, ordered by people I know quite well, who were once my role models and whose children are my friends, but I fear no man – wealthy or poor.
Like Shabir Shaik said during his trial, “I walk in the shadow of the Lord”. I shall fear no evil.