Ahmed And The Pastor’s Daughter

It’s been six months since Victoria had returned from rehabilitation. Her father had ensured that she went to the best centres that money can buy. He had had her committed to the Bokone Institute for Bipolar Disorder after the social media fiasco which left her mother paralysed and rendered a vegetable. She did not have a nervous breakdown because of the media frenzy; Vicky broke down because she did not realize how much her rebellious lifestyle would break her mother. If anything, she couldn’t care less what it would do to her father’s image. She blamed him for having made her live a reclusive life, a life of complete and utter boredom. She hated everything about her life at home; that is why she opted for a life of endless parties when she got to university.

On the day following her graduation, Victoria made headlines: PASTOR’S DAUGHTER GRADUATES – MAGNA CUM LAUDE. This was the proudest moment and probably the happiest day for her mother. No mother would ask for more than that from their child. Whether her father was proud of her, no one could really tell. He always wore a calculative look on his face, devoid of any emotions. Well there was one thing which seemed to make Vicky’s father more excited, having a legion of his friends and deacons to his house. On that day, her father did not waste any time. He invited all the members of his denomination or congregation as they are now called. But everybody knew that only a selected few would ever make it to the pastor’s mansion. This seemed to unsettle the non black neighbours in this Baillie Park neighbourhood. And the graduation celebrations were no different. All the elite members of the church had come to celebrate Vicky’s achievement. She was now an inspiration to other young people in the church. This was of course, according to her father.

A couple of weeks after that graduation day, Victoria was on one of her father’s gospel networks, doing an interview; when the news broke out. ‘Televangelist and Real Estate magnate Christopher Olebate’s daughter’s explicit video has gone viral.’ Because this was a current affair’s and gospel related matters TV show, the producer made the host ask for Victoria’s response to the breaking news. 

“Vicky, I am so sorry but I do need to get an impression from you, over the recent developments. What is your reaction to the #VickyOlebate and the explicit video of you which has gone viral?” The host asked.

“Look Thabiso, people trend for all sorts of things. You say there is a video of mine which has gone viral; I am not familiar with it. If there is a video involved, then I doubt the trend is about my scholarly achievements. But when I have acquainted myself with the details of that trend I will give an impression with regards to this.”

“Okay I understand Ms Olebate here is what Kagiso@Kosh_Slayer has Tweeted: It is a sad day in the country when those who influence many young people in the church are found wanting with regards to morals. #VickyOlebate. Do you feel that people like Kagiso are being hard on you, that they don’t understand the pressure of being a pastor’s daughter?”

“Many people have perspectives of what they initially don’t understand, but once they get better insights, their feelings change. I understand what the viewer is feeling. But as I have already said, I will give my response once I have had the privilege of going through this matter.” 

Thabiso thanked Victoria for her time and congratulated her on her MBA, and then sent the programme to a commercial. Thabiso who reveres Mr Olebate apologized to Victoria for the recent ambush, told her the producer had made him do it. Vicky searched the internet so as to find what this hooh-ha was about. She realized that someone had uploaded a video of her and her then blesser on Twitter. A video she had no knowledge of who took it. But she does recall that it had all happened at Mmabatho Palms, in Mahikeng. And that was when she was a freshman.

 As she left the TV studios, her father called her – told her that her mother had suffered a severe stroke and that the women’s fellowship had met at the house; they are the ones who called him after they had taken her to the hospital. He had just arrived at the hospital too.

Victoria did not waste anymore time, she got into the Bentley, raced to Potchefstroom hospital. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for her mother’s stroke. As she drove, pictures of that night at Mmabatho Palms, and all of her other indiscretions flashed across her mind. In an attempt to suppress such malicious thought, Victoria veered off the road and crashed in an open field, just after passing the R502 Bridge towards Orkney; it was lights out for her.

Motorists who had witnessed all of that had rushed in to help. EMS and other rescue teams arrived and air lifted the victim to Potchefstroom hospital.

It did not rain for Mr Olebate, but it poured. First his wife had been confirmed a vegetable, now his daughter was in a critical but stable condition (whatever that meant). His business ventures had taken a serious knock from his daughter’s indiscretions.

When Victoria woke, she was on her bed at home. She got out of bed, went to the bathroom and freshened up. Then she went downstairs, where she could learn as to what had happened.

Vicky found her father on the lounge, drinking his morning coffee and reading a local newspaper. They exchanged greetings. Then Vicky enquired about the events of that dreadful evening. Mr Olebate related the news to her, he also mentioned that her mother was confirmed a vegetable; that she would never get out of her bed, let alone be able to walk and speak.

He also told her that she was scheduled to leave in the next hour, as she would be committed at one of the country’s best institutions.

She had been at that place for the last three years. In the last six months, she has been helping small-scale businesses to grow their foothold in the area. It would all start with a walk in the park in the mornings. Then she would go to the CBD and help ambitious young men and women who would let her help them improve their profit margins.

Today was no different. She drove from Baillie Park to the CBD, parked the car at Mooi Rivier Mall, walked to the park next to the Madiba Banquet Hall. As she was enjoying the morning breeze, then suddenly someone called out to her.

“Excuse me ma’am, my name is Ahmed Khan. I have been following your work here in town over the last six months. And I should say, I admire it a lot. You see ma’am, I too run a small textile business, and I’m hoping with your help, I can turn it into a major couture company in the continent. Is it possible for me to get your contact details or should I give you mine?” The stranger.

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