Monday 02:00 a.m. May, 23rd 2011
I do promise to tell the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, and don’t say I did not warn you, this truth is ugly! The truth right? What or which is the truth anyway? Is it my version or your version, or his, her version or their version of the “Truth”?
I always found that concept troublesome. Whose truth is ever valid anyway? Well, I think there are many perspectives to the truth. I believe there is my version, then there is your version and there is one lying between the two. Either way my truth will be told. You really don’t need the running commentary so i will just get to it.
I was all drowsy and knackered into my own peaceful sleep. Studying shouldn’t be tiring; but surprisingly I enjoyed the challenge. I was having those short dreams that are usually half remembered. Mostly about myself, my life, my beautiful life, my effortless and inspiring life. To think about, if I had to die and depart to the heavens and then were to return; I would beg the mighty to return me as me, – “Lord you blessed me once, you can do it again. Just bring me back as I was, thanks” I would say.
So i eyed my business textbooks on the study table. Such are the things I had set my dreams and hopes on. I reached for my phone at the end of the table. It hit me that I had switched it off. It’s a great time and age to be alive; but one switching their phone off is like leaving their life for a moment and time. You feel agitated and diffident as if life will just pass you by while your phone is off. A simple and pathetic switch! And that damn thing called the internet? What of the internet?
I had fifteen missed calls, and nine were from my boyfriend. This was unlike him. What did he want? I thought. He knows I have to study and I can’t attend calls. Lord, he knows I have to study. What is it that is so urgent?
I yawned. I also realised I had received text messages from him. I tapped the last one from my phone and it read:
*Please don’t be mad at me, answer your phone. Are you okay? Who are you with baby, please talk to me?*
Mad at you for what? I quickly went through the first message from him:
*If you have already seen the pictures on social media; please it was not me. Thabiso went through my PC; and the next thing they are all over. Please I had nothing to do with it.*
I could feel my heart throb and thump! What pictures are you talking about? 9 missed calls for pictures? What pictures?
That’s all I could ask myself at that particular moment… Then my mind just went frenzy, oh no!
I went straight to my laptop, and logged onto social network accounts. I had about forty new Facebook friend requests and my Facebook wall was buzzing. I couldn’t believe what was being posted; my eyes popped! The insolence of it all!
*Sfebe! , you should be ashamed of yourself. Sies man! *
Another read *L.O.L who had the courage to shoot that photo? #wow.*
*O.M.G is that Dj Brant between your legs? This is so sad. You really have to? You leaked these pictures nana? Attention seeker now? And I wonder why I am not surprised?*
-An outspoken TV show host I look up to said on twitter. Another celebrity; a blogger said:
*Khumo’s daughter ayeye! This will look good!*
I thought how worse could this get?
One of my classmates said:
*come ride me. You know my flat right?*
I was mortified. My nude pictures were out and viral! I wanted to dig up a hole and die! Oh my God!
I sat at my desk chair startled. I then tried to go past most mean comments but they were just too many. I was befuddled. My mind was blurring. People were laughing at me! The humiliation!
What am I going to do? The attacks were disgusting. How could one say such to another human being? It was so uncalled for, how callous, how inhuman, just to hurt me!
I looked at one of the pictures on my screen. My legs, my thighs, my somehow obscured pudenda and breasts. All there for scrutiny. All there for viewing. Free of charge.
I wanted to lash out at everyone saying those vile things! And most of these people didn’t even know me; only heard of me. And now they are invading my privacy.
I went to my phone again and read the text messages I received from the others; and more still came through as if to confirm the nightmare:
*Pontso have you seen the images going rounds on social networks? Where are you?*
-A person whom I’ve not spoken to in years sent. Was it a concerned intent text or a sniggering one?
*Pontso where are you? I’ve called you like three times. Call me back. We have to talk about what I just saw. I hope you are okay.*
-My brother’s text message read.
*I’m sure there is a valid explanation about what I’m seeing on twitter. Call me baby girl.*
-One of the messages from my promoter/ cousin read.
I just sat there in my own space staring at my screen whilst stuck in limbo.
I then went back to my laptop. My twitter page was still up. I browsed for a while and I tried to calm down. They are just pictures, I consoled myself.
I went to my Facebook fan page. The likes doubled in number from 70000 to 155000 something fans. My twitter followers went from 60670 to around 95500 and counting, in 10 hours! Shocking! The pictures have been going viral while I was studying and in utopia.
The media is going to feed on me! I thought. I sat back against my chair. What do I do? How do I respond? Where do I start?
I reached for my cell phone and called my boyfriend. Tears started rolling down my cheeks while I listened to the phone ring, crying? Pontso! I could feel my hands shaking while fidgeting. How could Brian do this to me? Does he know what this could do to my modelling career? My family?
“Pontso.” He said
“I saw the pictures Brian.” I quickly said. I couldn’t stop my tears. I just wept.
“Baby, I’m sorry. It was not me but Thabz. Don’t cry; are you crying?”
“You promised not to leak those pictures. How could you do this to me Brian? How could you do this to me?” I said while the tears just went down my cheeks like a cold rainy day. I didn’t even want to stop them. I became so upset his voice was a sudden irritation. How can he be so stupid? This is going to ruin my whole reputation.
“Baby, please calm down. I did not leak them I swear, Thabiso-”
“Where is that little cunt? He will feel my wrath! Those were private pictures I took with you. This is not happening to me!”
But it was really happening. They were out. My mind was racing; befuddled. I could have stopped it, couldn’t I? I rued being with Brian. I rued over being comfortable and excited around him.
“Look.” he said. – “I will be there first thing in the morning okay? We can go past this.”
“We huh? Brian, I’m the one with her tits out on some idiot’s profile pictures okay?”
I was now standing up and walking around my study room. I continued,
-“I am the one posed like a slut going rounds on twitter! Me Pontso, Not you Brian! People are laughing at me; do you understand?”
“You think this doesn’t affect my status too?” he mumbled with his deep annoying voice,
-“People know we are dating. This also has been embarrassing to me. You have no-”
I couldn’t believe what he was saying. He always made things about him. Narcissistic cunt!
“Oh how diligent of you! The mighty Dj Brant says I’m embarrassing him! , I’m embarrassing you? Fotsek! You are so useless, Selfish moron; I hate you!”
“I’m not going to listen to this. I’ve been calling you all night God knows where you are. Why weren’t you answering my calls when I was worried about you? All those campus boys probably slept-”
I dropped the call in a heartbeat. I can’t believe what this son of a bitch is saying to me. Insecure little cunt!
I threw my cell phone on the one arm couch which was next to the window. If you could have been more careful Pontso. If you could have been more careful!
I couldn’t think straight.
I then sat on the study chair. My head was so heavy like a huge rock was resting on top of it. My mouth was dry. And my nose was runny. How do I get past this? What do I do?
The phone rang again. I knew it was him calling back. I did not pick up. I just stared at it vibrating on the study room couch until it stopped vibrating.
I mean, calling me won’t change the fact that when any South African was to login on twitter or any social media; -the most trending topic will be Pontso’s nudes. Dj Brant and his girlfriend; what were they thinking? Why can’t this girl respect her body? What a slut!
I wiped the tears and sobbed. The elders probably saying: “What is happening to the new generation of South Africa? The children of Mandela?” “Is this is the new South Africa we fought for?”
The ‘Oh so religious’ probably saying: “doesn’t she know her body is the temple of the lord Jesus Christ?”
I felt a sudden urge to go back to social media and read the remarks as my nude pictures were being posted by almost everyone. I was trending.
*@PontsoMolomo is now trending in South Africa*
*There goes your goal, to trend! What a pathetic way to.*
-A follower on twitter said.
Anger entered me.
Do they know who I am? How I live? These low lives who would actually die to be me are now laughing at me while they wallow in their pathetic lives. I’m from a wealthy, respected family. I own a clothing line. I am independent. I am on billboards. I am somebody! And a no life, getting social grants welfare baby mamas, and little boys who couldn’t even afford me are calling me names? Shame, it will take ten times of your monthly salary to actually have me and you are poking fun at me? I felt sick. Losers suckers for life! The fact that they even have the privilege to be my ‘friends’ on a social network must be their highest achievement. Thank Mark Zuckerberg pal!
I decided not to say anything. I looked around my study, and suddenly I felt frivolously pathetic. How on earth am I ever going to be respected with such pictures of my body? Today was supposed to be study night. But my hanky panky activities with my Dj boyfriend decided to act ludicrous against me.
I went downstairs to the kitchen for my keys- which were on the kitchen counter. I locked the front door. I then switched the lights off of the rest of the house.
I started crying again. And once again I couldn’t stop the tears. I felt more of humiliation than anything. Those are the kind of images the world should not see. My body was in the open. There is no other way to look at it than be viewed as a slut. Classy, grounded and groomed as I am; people will look at me otherwise with such pictures. Just naked! Is this what I’ve been working hard for? What of my repute and status? Is this the end of Pontso?
One picture I had my left leg on a red and gold king designed chair; the right one on a red carpet. My long legs and buttocks stood firm and confident, while Brian held on to my right leg kneeling from below in a black suit. I had a blue belt on my right shoulder going to my back. I also had my favourite outrageous yellow with light blue ties wedges on; -which I had I bought in New York. The picture looked both sophisticated and artistic-so I thought.
My dark complexion, sore free face- complemented the bright colours. I also had my black Naomi Campbell inspired weave. My long black striking legs looked ideally flawless, “tall goddess” first thing I thought when I saw it .It was so sexy. And the look in my eyes would make any man with a sexual appetite come right there! A pretty good damn picture!
“Open your legs baby. This is going look sexy.”- Brian had said.
He came up with the ideas for the photos. We loved them. It was just me and him having fun.
He knows every part of my body, I also know his; so why not take sacred pictures of the two of us? As lovers?
I looked at the business books on my study table while standing on the door way between my study room and my bedroom. I went to my bedroom. The windows were open. It was drizzling outside. The streets were quiet.
I then sat on my bed just looking outside for a while. I still couldn’t come up with a plan to go through all this. However, i loved the silence in the neighbourhood. Rich people don’t make noise; we do our duties in the day and plan for tomorrow.
I rummaged for my phone in the dark; i finally found it and I went through my messages again.
I realised Audrey hadn’t said anything. How come my own best friend did not say something? Call? Nothing?
Apart from my promoter/cousin, my brother, my stupid boyfriend and six other people I didn’t know who on earth they are; all were texting me about the nudes. My so tenacious cousin asking how to respond to them. I decided not to reply any of them. What did they expect me to say? That it was not me? I was photo shopped? My own boyfriend betrayed me. But somebody was going to pay. Thabiso, him, the low lives on Instagram and twitter…somebody has to pay. I am Pontso!