The Artist

My Name is Chuma

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…

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