IN JOBURG OVER THE NEXT few years, I continued my spiritual quest. It was always the same: when there was stability in my life I could get off drugs, but I was pushed back when things went wrong.
I still needed a more permanent home, despite the kindness of my friends Zanele and Tie. Zanele found me a room to rent from a Congolese woman for R400 a month. But I had to sleep on the floor in the kitchen, with no mattress.
‘Salvation is personal,’ I said to myself.
Zanele and I continued to attend the Christ Embassy Church. I was still wanting spiritual upliftment to help me escape from my memories of abuse and sexual violence. The CEC had become my place for developing faith, strength and friendships.
I decided to get off heavy drugs, which wasn’t easy. The first year was tough, and I just smoked weed, but I felt clean and good about myself.
I started a new job as a nanny, looking after the grandchild of one of the women from the Methodist church. By then my need for drugs had diminished; I knew I couldn’t smell of drugs and be a good worker, knew I couldn’t always be thinking of how to steal and get the next drug fix.
This woman’s other daughter, Nuro, attended CEC with me, and her mother suggested we both leave ‘that Nigerian church’. It caused some friction between Nuro and her mother. But at least I had a steady job, and I was on a good path by then.
Nuro became a significant part of my life and transformation. She and I spent a lot of time speaking about the Bible. I also shared my trafficking stories with her, which fascinated her. I was getting used to stability, having work and friends around while going to church and gradually leading a more sober and simple life. It was nice. I was getting stronger and stronger.
Then, another setback. My landlord suddenly doubled my rent to R800. This was unaffordable since I was receiving a nanny’s salary of R2200, and I felt it was unfair since I was sleeping on the kitchen floor! Drama broke out in the church about this so I gave up the accommodation, but to add insult to injury, I was fired as a nanny because Nuro’s mother did not approve of us attending the Christ Embassy Church. A woman in the CEC found me a job as a cleaner, which paid slightly more than my salary as a nanny, although that didn’t last long.
Tie came to the rescue by letting me share her bed in a bachelor flat for R400. Her flat was right behind a drug house.
My transformation was never simple. Because of the world I knew, the skills I had and the demands of my life, I always had to make difficult decisions.
The house behind Nuro’s flat was run by Nigerians. Delivering their drugs to Cape Town was an easy way of making money. I was no longer taking heavy drugs myself, so it wasn’t a big issue for me to pick up and deliver them, and not consume them myself.
Hearing my mother was sick in hospital, I managed to make a drug drop in Cape Town, gather a few thousand rand, see my mother and my son and then leave again for Joburg.
I had street protection for these money stashes I carried around. I carried all my money in my bra and in my shoe as I didn’t have a bank account. Gangsters on the streets have a secret language and invisible bonds, so they leave you alone. I was not robbed because there was always a network of people keeping an eye on me. And I knew I was already part of the drug dealers’ safety network – they knew I was reliable.
Sometimes, I did not accept an opportunity for dropping drugs as I was always wanting to phase down this activity. But mostly they would offer me this money – R11 000, R12 000 – and the sound of those numbers in my desperate ears would draw me in.
Then, when I came back from a delivery, my body would go into shock, and I would run straight to the church and cry for mercy! That’s what I found myself doing: I did what I did to support my family, hoping that when I was done, God would bless and forgive me.
My spiritual meter kept swinging back and forth as I entertained these thoughts in my head.