Once upon a time, in the section of Tumula, nestled within the Motsemogolo village, there lived a young man named Kubu Kwena. He was notorious for his troublesome ways, especially when it came to stealing goats from his community. His nimble fingers and stealthy movements made him the sluggishness of the community.
The villagers whispered about Kubu's misdeeds, shaking their heads in disapproval. But Kubu remained undeterred, driven by some inner compulsion to pilfer livestock under the cover of darkness. His thievery disrupted the peaceful nights, leaving the goat owners frustrated and sleepless.
Kubu was distributing goats to the neighboring communities in illegal ways. He collects money and promises to give them goats. Kubu does not own goats, neither does his father.
One moonless night, a group of determined villagers led by Mankwana decided they had endured enough. Clad in black clothes, they assembled quietly, their faces hidden by shadows. Their mission was to capture Kubu and end his reign of goats stealing.
Street by street, they raked the village, their footsteps silenced by the soft earth. The night seemed to hold its breath as they moved, anticipation thick in the air. Would they finally capture Kubu Kwena? Until recently, he was chased by a group of schoolboys sent by the principal to bring him from home to school, because he was absent without notice for a month, but Kubu ran away into the mountains of Mahlakaumaneng, and he was not captured. The Mankwana team heard about Kubu running like an antilope known as Springbok. They were prepared, as they closed in on his usual haunts, the whispers became louder. "There he is," someone whispered, pointing toward a densely stricken path. And indeed, there stood Kubu, his shadow outlined against the moonlit wall. His eyes widened as he realized that he was surrounded.
The villagersclosed in, their anger simmering beneath the surface. Kubu stammered, trying to explain himself, but his excuses fell on deaf ears. They seized him, their grip unyielding, and dragged him toward the center of the village.
The moon peeked out from behind a cloud, casting an eerie glow on Kubu's face. His eyes darted from one stern face to another, fear etched across his features. The villagers had enough they were ready to deliver justice.
But as they prepared to confront Kubu, an old woman from Kgwareng section stepped forward. Her voice was weathered but firm. "Wait," she said. "Before we pass judgment, let us consider why Kubu steals."
The crowd murmured, torn between anger and curiosity. The old woman continued, her gaze unwavering. "Leave Kubu alone. Perhaps he does not steal alone, where are his acquaintances? Let us not forget our duty to compassion." The old woman was yelled by the villagers in an angry manner, "no. Kubu must fall, Kubu must fall; bring back our goats". Kubu was taken to the Moshate (royal Kraal) during that night, where he mentioned the names of his acquaintances, he mentioned Matsebetsebe, LeilaMabupudu, and Samputana.
The old`s words hung in the air, a reminder that even troublesome souls had their reasons. The villagers exchanged glances, their resolve wavering. Could they condemn Kubu without understanding his motive?
In the end, they chose a different path, not take the law in their hands. Instead of punishment, they offered Kubu and his acquaintances a chance to work for forgiveness, to express their feelings, and to find a better path. Kubu and the trio became the village goat herders, tending to the very animals they once stole.
From that day on, the whispers changed. No longer did they speak of Kubu's thievery; instead, they observed his transformation. As the goats grazed peacefullyin the moonlight, the village learned a valuable lesson, allowing compassion to alter even the most troublesome hearts. Kubu became a sweet boy, he never avoided school.
By Dinyalo Elias Mampane
The villagers whispered about Kubu's misdeeds, shaking their heads in disapproval. But Kubu remained undeterred, driven by some inner compulsion to pilfer livestock under the cover of darkness. His thievery disrupted the peaceful nights, leaving the goat owners frustrated and sleepless.
Kubu was distributing goats to the neighboring communities in illegal ways. He collects money and promises to give them goats. Kubu does not own goats, neither does his father.
One moonless night, a group of determined villagers led by Mankwana decided they had endured enough. Clad in black clothes, they assembled quietly, their faces hidden by shadows. Their mission was to capture Kubu and end his reign of goats stealing.
Street by street, they raked the village, their footsteps silenced by the soft earth. The night seemed to hold its breath as they moved, anticipation thick in the air. Would they finally capture Kubu Kwena? Until recently, he was chased by a group of schoolboys sent by the principal to bring him from home to school, because he was absent without notice for a month, but Kubu ran away into the mountains of Mahlakaumaneng, and he was not captured. The Mankwana team heard about Kubu running like an antilope known as Springbok. They were prepared, as they closed in on his usual haunts, the whispers became louder. "There he is," someone whispered, pointing toward a densely stricken path. And indeed, there stood Kubu, his shadow outlined against the moonlit wall. His eyes widened as he realized that he was surrounded.
The villagersclosed in, their anger simmering beneath the surface. Kubu stammered, trying to explain himself, but his excuses fell on deaf ears. They seized him, their grip unyielding, and dragged him toward the center of the village.
The moon peeked out from behind a cloud, casting an eerie glow on Kubu's face. His eyes darted from one stern face to another, fear etched across his features. The villagers had enough they were ready to deliver justice.
But as they prepared to confront Kubu, an old woman from Kgwareng section stepped forward. Her voice was weathered but firm. "Wait," she said. "Before we pass judgment, let us consider why Kubu steals."
The crowd murmured, torn between anger and curiosity. The old woman continued, her gaze unwavering. "Leave Kubu alone. Perhaps he does not steal alone, where are his acquaintances? Let us not forget our duty to compassion." The old woman was yelled by the villagers in an angry manner, "no. Kubu must fall, Kubu must fall; bring back our goats". Kubu was taken to the Moshate (royal Kraal) during that night, where he mentioned the names of his acquaintances, he mentioned Matsebetsebe, LeilaMabupudu, and Samputana.
The old`s words hung in the air, a reminder that even troublesome souls had their reasons. The villagers exchanged glances, their resolve wavering. Could they condemn Kubu without understanding his motive?
In the end, they chose a different path, not take the law in their hands. Instead of punishment, they offered Kubu and his acquaintances a chance to work for forgiveness, to express their feelings, and to find a better path. Kubu and the trio became the village goat herders, tending to the very animals they once stole.
From that day on, the whispers changed. No longer did they speak of Kubu's thievery; instead, they observed his transformation. As the goats grazed peacefullyin the moonlight, the village learned a valuable lesson, allowing compassion to alter even the most troublesome hearts. Kubu became a sweet boy, he never avoided school.
By Dinyalo Elias Mampane
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