No products in the cart.
By Nhamo Muchagumisa The fight between Yeukai and Benson replayed in my dream. Benson's face, begging for mercy, eluded Yeukai's heart as the blows from her clenched fists rained on it. My silent plea for mercy on Benson's behalf reached not Yeukai's ears. A pair of raw wounds could be seen where his eyes once were. His nose was the colour of pepper and his lips, torn by his own teeth as Yeukai's blows fell on them, had turned to shapeless chunks of crimson flesh. I had once had a match with Benson, which I had lost within three minutes, much to the disappointment of the crowd of our teen spectators. Today his loss to Yeukai was a great embarrassment to me, especially when most of my classmates knew that I had interests in Yeukai. Having hoped for a rematch with Benson, I knew that another loss to him, after his humiliation by a girl who was a stream behind us would make me an object of ridicule among my peers. Only one or two boys in our stream could stand up against Benson.