Stolen Youth: Kasi Secrets Don’t Stay Buried

📖 Chapter 4 – The Day Kasi Turned Cold

PART 1

The sun hadn't even touched the sky when the streets of Mamelodi started whispering. Whispers about someone getting shot. Whispers about who's next. Whispers that always started soft… and ended in screaming.

Tsepo stood at the edge of the soccer field with his hoodie on, hands in his pockets, but his mind wasn't on the game. It was on last night.

The gunshots.

The scream.

The message that shook his bones:

"Next time, we won't miss."

He didn't know who sent it. But he knew why.

Kasi was no longer just turf. It was a trap. One wrong move and you vanish. And Tsepo? He was one step from vanishing.

He watched his crew—Thabiso, Sly, and Big B—acting like things were normal. Laughing, teasing each other, kicking the ball around. But he could see it in their eyes. They felt it too.

Something dark was coming.

---

Earlier that morning, Tsepo's mother had already cried. Again. Not for him—no, not directly—but for his little sister, Buhle.

Buhle had been missing since Saturday.

Gone.

Vanished like smoke.

And nobody in the kasi was talking. Not the neighbours. Not the police. Not even the teachers at Buhle's school.

Tsepo had been searching, asking, praying. But every answer led to more fear. Every corner of Mamelodi held secrets—secrets stitched into the walls, whispered through gates, and buried under the same streets he grew up on.

And the more he looked, the more he felt it wasn't just a random case.

Someone took Buhle to send a message.

---

"Yo," Sly came over and bumped shoulders with Tsepo. "You're quiet like you saw a ghost."

Tsepo didn't answer.

"Still no word on your sister?" Sly asked, softer now.

Tsepo just shook his head.

Thabiso joined them. "Maybe we should go talk to Zuks."

"Zuks?" Tsepo asked, frowning.

"Yeah bro… he knows everyone. Even those gangs in phase 3. If your sister passed through there, he'll know."

Tsepo nodded slowly. Zuks was dangerous. Connected. But desperate times call for dangerous moves.

---

That afternoon, they met Zuks near the train tracks. He was standing with two girls and a bottle of something that smelled like trouble. The guy had gold teeth, shades on, and a hoodie that probably cost more than Tsepo's school fees.

"You looking for favors now?" Zuks asked, tilting his head at Tsepo. "I thought you were the 'good one.'"

Tsepo stepped forward. "My sister's missing. Since Saturday."

Zuks raised an eyebrow.

"I need to know if anyone took her. Or saw her. Or heard anything."

Zuks laughed. "Missing girls? Bruh, this is Mamelodi. Girls go missing like airtime. Maybe she ran away. Maybe she found someone better."

Tsepo clenched his fists.

"Relax," Zuks said, taking a sip. "I'll ask around. But I want something back."

"What?"

"You're smart, right? You got connections with the teachers. Exams are coming. I want those questions."

Tsepo's heart sank. "You want me to steal exam papers?"

Zuks smiled. "Just a few. You get me those, I get you answers. Deal?"

---

That night, Tsepo didn't sleep. He stared at the ceiling, the cracked plaster above him like a broken map of his life.

How did things get here?

He used to dream about getting out. Becoming something more. Writing music. Winning awards. Taking Buhle far from this place.

Now he was about to risk expulsion to find her.

Was it worth it?

Yes.

Every piece of him screamed yes.

So the next day, Tsepo slid into the staff room during break. He had copied the key from a cleaner who owed him a favor. His hands shook as he opened the drawer.

Maths. Life Science. English.

He took photos of each. Fast. Silent.

Then he ran.

---

That evening, he met Zuks behind the spaza shop.

"I got what you wanted," Tsepo said, handing over his phone.

Zuks checked. "Good boy."

"Now talk."

Zuks smiled like a cat with blood on its teeth.

"She was seen. Buhle. Near phase 3. Near a house with red paint and no numbers."

"Who was she with?"

"Can't say. But they say she was crying. And they say someone called Mama Noxolo took her in."

"Mama who?"

"Old lady. Traditional healer. But don't get it twisted. She's not just bones and beads. That woman runs things. Some say she talks to the dead. Some say she makes people disappear."

Tsepo's stomach turned.

---

End of PART 1.

📖 Chapter 4 – The Day Kasi Turned Cold

PART 2

Tsepo barely made it back home with a straight face. Inside, he was boiling. Who the hell was Mama Noxolo? Why would an old healer have his sister?

His mother was asleep on the couch again, wrapped in an old blanket, a Bible resting on her chest. Tsepo bent down, kissed her forehead, and whispered a promise.

"I'm going to find her. I swear."

---

He met Thabiso and Sly at the corner by the tuck shop.

"You serious about going there?" Thabiso asked, eyes wide.

"I don't care how dangerous she is," Tsepo said. "If Buhle's there, I'm going."

Sly rubbed his chin. "Then we go prepared. Not with knives. With brains."

"What's the plan?" Tsepo asked.

"We go at night," Sly said. "Less attention. She might be sleeping. And we need someone to distract her."

Tsepo looked at him. "Distract Mama Noxolo?"

Sly smirked. "Relax. I know a girl. Beautiful and brave. She owes me."

---

At 11PM that night, the three of them stood across from the red house. It looked quiet. Too quiet. No dog barking. No movement. But the air… it was wrong. Heavy. Like the wind refused to blow there.

"This place gives me the chills," Thabiso whispered.

A girl approached from the shadows—tall, pretty, and fearless.

"Her name's Naledi," Sly said. "She's gonna knock and say she needs help with her sick baby brother. While she talks, we sneak in from the back."

Tsepo nodded. "Let's do this."

Naledi walked up the path. Knocked twice. The door creaked open. A woman in a black doek with silver bangles stepped out. They couldn't hear the words, but Naledi was acting like a worried sister.

As planned, Tsepo and Thabiso crept along the side wall, keeping low. The backyard had a broken fence. The window was open.

Tsepo climbed in.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

---

Inside the house, it wasn't normal. The walls were covered in strange patterns. Bones hanging from the ceiling. Candles still burning. A photo of a girl—his sister.

"Thabiso…" Tsepo whispered. "She's here. Or was."

They moved deeper. The back room had a mattress and a bucket. Chains. And something worse.

A book.

He opened it.

Inside were names. Dates. Girls.

And a word written again and again.

"Initiation."

"What is this?" Thabiso asked.

"It's a list," Tsepo said. "And Buhle's name is here."

Suddenly, a voice behind them.

"You shouldn't be here."

They spun around.

Mama Noxolo stood in the hallway. Eyes like coals. Wrinkles like cracks in stone.

"You looking for Buhle?" she asked.

Tsepo's throat tightened. "Where is she?"

Mama Noxolo smiled. "She left. The spirits called her."

"What did you do to her?!"

"I opened her eyes," the old woman whispered. "The kasi is blind, boy. But your sister… she sees now."

Thabiso reached for a stick nearby. "Don't play with us, gogo."

Mama Noxolo's smile faded.

"I don't need to. The truth will find you."

Suddenly, the candles blew out.

Darkness.

Then a scream—from outside.

Naledi.

They ran.

---

They found Naledi on the ground, crying. Her hand bleeding.

"She bit me!" she shouted. "That woman is crazy!"

They didn't wait. They ran all the way back to the field, breathing hard, not speaking.

When they stopped, Tsepo looked at the paper he had grabbed from the room. A drawing.

A circle.

A house.

A girl standing in the middle, arms open, eyes white.

He knew then that this wasn't just a kidnapping.

It was something bigger.

Something darker.

---

The next day, Buhle's school had an emergency meeting. Three other girls had disappeared. All in Grade 8. All gone in the same month.

Tsepo knew it wasn't coincidence.

At break, he pulled aside Miss Nare, the Life Orientation teacher. She used to work with social services.

"Ma'am," Tsepo said, "there's something I need to show you."

She looked at the drawing. Her face changed.

"Where did you get this?"

"From Mama Noxolo's house."

Miss Nare sat down, silent for a moment. Then she whispered:

"This isn't just witchcraft. It's a recruitment."

"For what?"

"A cult."

---

Later that week, police raided Mama Noxolo's house.

She was gone.

Vanished.

But the evidence? It was enough.

Chains. Candles. Ritual books. Blood.

The community was shaken. Parents protested. Posters with girls' faces covered the walls. For the first time, people stopped being quiet.

But still—no Buhle.

---

Tsepo sat in the back yard that night, alone.

He had done everything.

And still nothing.

Then… a sound behind him.

Footsteps.

He turned.

His mother stood there, hand shaking.

"Tsepo," she whispered. "There's a letter."

She handed it over.

The handwriting was rough.

"I'm safe. Don't look for me. I have work to do. –Buhle"

Tsepo's eyes filled with tears.

Was it really her?

Was she forced to write it?

Or… did she mean it?

He didn't know.

But he knew one thing:

He wasn't done.

The kasi had stolen too many girls.

He was going to find out how deep this hole went…

Even if it killed him.

---

 End of Part 2

📖 Chapter 4 – The Day Kasi Turned Cold

PART 3

---

The letter haunted Tsepo.

"Don't look for me. I have work to do."

He read it over and over.

Something wasn't right.

Buhle would never leave her family like that. Not without a fight. Not after everything they'd been through.

He folded the paper and put it in the back of his Bible, close to his heart. If she really wrote that letter… then something had twisted her mind.

He needed help. Real help.

---

At school, the teachers were tense. Everyone was whispering. More girls were missing. Another from Grade 9. This time, her name was Lethabo.

Gone without a trace.

Her locker was still full. Her bag still hanging at home.

Tsepo met with Miss Nare again.

"You said this was a cult," he said. "How deep does it go?"

Miss Nare closed the blinds.

"I don't think it's just spiritual. There's money involved."

"Money?"

She nodded. "Trafficking. Rituals. Maybe even politics."

Tsepo blinked. "Wait—politics?"

Miss Nare sighed. "This kasi, Tsepo… it looks small, but big people have eyes here. Some even protect these criminals. That's why police don't go further."

"So they're just going to leave Buhle out there?"

Miss Nare shook her head. "Not if we do something smart."

---

That night, Tsepo met with Thabiso, Sly, and Naledi again.

He laid everything out. The cult. The corruption. The danger.

They all agreed: They weren't done.

Sly said, "Then we need someone inside. Someone who knows the streets."

Naledi smirked. "I know a guy. He runs the spaza near that haunted taxi rank. Rumor is, he used to work with them… but got out."

"What's his name?" Tsepo asked.

"People call him Razor."

---

Razor's spaza shop looked normal — till you looked close.

The walls had cameras. The air smelled like burnt sage and cigarettes.

He sat behind the counter, chewing gum, eyes sharp.

"Who sent you?" Razor asked.

"Naledi," she said. "We need information. About Mama Noxolo. About the girls."

Razor's face turned cold.

"You kids playing a dangerous game."

"We're not playing," Tsepo said. "One of those girls is my sister."

Razor looked at him for a long time.

Then… he nodded.

"You got heart, boy. That woman—Noxolo—she's just one branch. The real root? Deep underground. They call themselves The Eye of the Cradle."

"The what?" Sly asked.

"They believe in blood. Power through pain. They don't just recruit. They break people. Rebuild them. Turn them into something else."

Tsepo clenched his jaw. "Then tell us where to find them."

Razor hesitated. Then reached under the counter.

He pulled out a phone. Cracked screen. He typed something.

A map.

Coordinates.

"This is a shack. Deep in the veld. Not far from where the old railway used to run. You go there… you better be ready."

"We are," Tsepo said.

---

Two days later, they made a plan.

Miss Nare would tell the police just enough to distract them. The teens would go in fast, get evidence, and get out.

Tsepo felt like a soldier.

Not because he wanted to be…

But because nobody else was coming.

---

The veld was silent. The wind barely moved.

They found the shack.

Wooden walls. Old bricks. A tin roof that looked like it hadn't been touched in years.

But when Sly pressed his ear to the door, he whispered, "Voices."

They moved carefully.

Inside, they saw candles.

Again.

Girls kneeling.

Blindfolded.

A man in red robes chanting.

Tsepo's heart dropped.

One of the girls—Buhle.

His sister.

She looked older. Harder. But it was her.

He stepped forward.

A creak.

Someone turned.

"WHO'S THERE?!"

---

Panic.

The room erupted in chaos.

Sly tackled the man. Naledi grabbed Buhle.

"BUHLE! It's us!"

Buhle's eyes widened. "You shouldn't be here—RUN!"

But it was too late.

More people arrived. Three men in masks. Armed.

Thabiso fought one. Got hit. Fell back.

Tsepo screamed. "We came for her! We're not leaving without her!"

One of the masked men shouted. "TAKE THEM ALL!"

Naledi grabbed a stick. Swung. Hit one.

Sly kicked another.

Buhle screamed, "STOP! I'll go with you, just let them go!"

Tsepo froze. "What?!"

"I'm already part of them," Buhle said, shaking. "If I leave now… they'll kill all of us. Let me stay. Please."

"No," Tsepo said. "I came to bring you back."

But the men advanced.

Then—

A siren.

Police.

Miss Nare had sent them.

The masked men fled. The red-robed man ran.

Tsepo grabbed Buhle and held her tight.

"You're safe now."

"No," Buhle whispered. "I'm not."

---

At the station, statements were taken.

The place they found? It was known.

But nothing had ever stuck.

Till now.

Thanks to the map. The photos. The testimony.

Mama Noxolo was still missing.

But The Eye was exposed.

Some members were arrested.

But the leaders?

Gone.

---

That night, Buhle sat on the edge of her bed.

She looked at Tsepo.

"You shouldn't have come."

"I had to."

"I was… I was almost gone," she whispered. "I felt like… I didn't matter anymore."

"You always matter."

Buhle smiled weakly.

Then cried.

And Tsepo held her.

Not as a hero.

But as a brother.

---

The kasi was quiet for a few weeks.

No more missing girls.

No strange drawings.

But behind the silence, something still waited.

Tsepo knew it.

A storm wasn't over just because the sky cleared.

There were still secrets buried under Kasi dust.

Still people watching.

Still darkness, waiting for nightfall.

And he'd be ready.

Because once you see the truth…

You can't unsee it.

---

✅ End of Part 3 

Chapter 4: The Day Kasi Turned Cold

Part 4: Secrets in the Smoke

It had been two days since that bloody scene at the corner of Mabena Street. The kasi felt like it was breathing differently—heavier, paranoid. The scent of burning tyres from some protest two blocks away still lingered, mixing with the tension that clung to every doorstep like mist.

Sbu sat outside Tlotlo's tuckshop, watching the sun set slowly over the dusty rooftops. His hoodie was pulled tight over his cap. His sneakers were fresh, but his mind was worn.

Buhle hadn't spoken to anyone since the shooting. Not even her gogo. She'd locked herself in her room, phone off, curtains closed. People were starting to talk—some said she was possessed, others said she was cursed. But no one knew what she had seen... and what she was still hiding.

Sbu lit a cigarette with shaky fingers. He wasn't a smoker—never was. But right now, he needed something to calm the volcano boiling inside his chest. Since that day, he'd been having nightmares. Nightmares of gunshots, of blood pooling on tar, of Buhle's face… but twisted, screaming, haunted.

"You good, boy?" came a deep voice behind him.

It was Bra Sizwe, the ex-con from down the street. People said he used to run with the 28s in Pollsmoor, but now he sold grilled chicken from a drum braai and pretended the past was dead.

"Yah, I'm breathing," Sbu answered, still staring at the horizon.

"Breathing ain't living, mfethu," Sizwe muttered, lighting his own cigarette. "Tell me—what's eating you?"

Sbu shook his head slowly. "If I told you, you'd say I'm mad. Or worse—you'd believe me and that's more dangerous."

Sizwe chuckled. "Try me."

Sbu hesitated. Then he looked around and leaned closer.

"Buhle saw something," he whispered. "That day. At the shooting."

Sizwe narrowed his eyes. "What kind of something?"

"She saw who pulled the trigger."

Sizwe's whole body stiffened. His cigarette paused halfway to his lips.

"Who?"

Sbu's voice dropped even lower. "It was someone we all know. Someone people respect. Someone untouchable."

Sizwe leaned back and exhaled smoke. "Let me guess… not a tsotsi. Not a junkie. Not some corner boy."

Sbu nodded. "Nope. Clean face. Good name. Church boy."

Sizwe grunted. "Those are the deadliest."

Just then, Tlotlo came out of the tuckshop, handing Sbu a cold Jive and a packet of Nik Naks. "You look like you need sugar," she said, forcing a small smile.

Sbu smiled back weakly. "Thanks."

She glanced at Sizwe, then leaned closer to Sbu. "Buhle's gogo came looking for you. Said Buhle's acting strange. Drawing weird stuff on her walls."

Sbu stood up fast. "Like what?"

"Like faces. Eyes. Blood. Names."

Sizwe stood too, throwing his cigarette away. "We need to check on that girl. Now."

They moved quickly through the dusty path, skipping potholes and ducking gossipers. When they got to Buhle's house, Gogo Noma was waiting on the stoep, clutching her Bible like it was a weapon.

"She hasn't eaten," she whispered. "She just draws. And talks to the wall."

Sbu knocked gently. "Buhle… it's me. Sbu. Open up."

No answer.

"Buhle, come on. Please."

Silence.

He turned the handle and found it unlocked. The room was dark, lit only by a red bulb dangling from the ceiling. The walls were covered in charcoal sketches—eyes everywhere. Some crying. Some bleeding. Some crossed out with black streaks.

Then he saw it—one drawing in the centre. A man in a pastor's collar, smiling. His eyes had been scratched out with a knife.

It was Pastor Thami.

Sbu froze. "No ways…"

Behind him, Sizwe cursed under his breath. "That man baptized me, bro…"

Suddenly, from the corner of the room, Buhle's voice cracked the silence.

"He killed him… in God's name…"

They turned. She was sitting on the floor, holding a small broken mirror in her hands. Her face was pale, lips trembling.

"He said the devil lives in boys like him," she whispered. "So he shot him. Right there. Said he was cleansing the kasi."

Sbu dropped to his knees. "Buhle, are you sure?"

"I saw his face," she said, eyes wild. "He looked at me. He knew I saw. And now… he's coming for me."

---

Part 4