The workers’ quarters of Hopeland was a typical small Zulu village. Beehive shaped huts made from thatch grass, black wattle and rock alder were placed in circle around a central kraal where instead of being a king’s kraal served as a meeting and festivity place for the whole group. Not far away was the long outdoor building where farms equipments and trucks were kept. The farmworkers and their families were assembled outside their huts with Jakobus, the farm manager in his khaki safari suit, and Sixpence in a bloodied shirt.
Across from them, on the other side of the path, a group of black belligerous young men were standing around their brand new SUVs and sports cars. They were drinking, smoking, chatting and laughing as though they were at a party.
The two groups were facing each other with the men threatening and hurling insults at the farmworkers. Thembani, their leader, was leaning on the hood of his BMW.
When he saw the Land Rover stopped by the huts and a beautiful woman in an evening gown got out, a smile of satisfaction and lust formed across his rugged face.
Charlize talked to Jakobus then reassured her farmworkers and their families that everything would be alright. She asked Sixpence if he needed to go to the hospital.
The tall strong black man shook his head. “No, missus Lizzie. I’m okay. I can take more beating than that. They got me only because there were five of them. The bastards!”
Charlize, infuriated, walked to the man who seemed to be the leader. Jakobus, Kwanele and Stephen were behind her, riffles in their hands.
– “Who are you and what are you doing on my farm?”
Thembani sneered and looked leerily at her from head to toes. “Who am I? I am Thembani, the son of the Land Reform Minister and you are on my farm. I’m here to tell you to get out of my farm. I’m gonna stay here until you leave and I want all those kaffirs out of here before midnight.”
– “Look, this farm belonged to my family for four generations and I have the deeds to prove it—”
Thembani took a step forward and pointed a finger at Charlize, “No, you listen. This farm belongs to the black people. You stole this farm from us and now we’re taking it back. I want you and these people out now!”
Jakobus advanced and said with a deep Afrikaner accent, “Look you bastard, don’t you dare talk to—”
– “What did you call me, old man? You’re calling a Minister’s son a bastard?”
Charlize straightened herself up, trying not to escalate the situation. “We’ve called the police to report the trespassing and the aggression. They’ll be here anytime now so I suggest you and your friends get out of my property.”
Thembani threw his head back, laughing. “You hear that boys? The police are coming. We’re just gonna have to wait for them then, don’t we?”
Still keeping her calm, Charlize said, “I ask you again to leave my farm. You have no rights to be here, your demands are preposterous and you know that.”
Thembani snapped his head back. “You boer bitch, shut up! How about I rape you right here in front of all your kaffirs?”
Charlize stepped back in fright when he tried to grab her but then something bizarre happened. Thembani felt a sharp pain somewhere along his spinal cord and flopped down on the ground like a paraplegic. Stunned, he tried to pull himself up but his legs wouldn’t answer to his brain. “What the? Hey, what the fuck!” he screamed under the astonished looks of everyone.
Thembani was sitting on the ground, his legs straight in front of him, his torso and arms swinging wildly trying to regain his legs function. He tried again to lift them with his hands but they flopped back on the ground of their own weights. Thembani’s heart was racing, panic ran through his whole body. The pain along his back was gone but he couldn’t feel his legs. It can’t be, he thought. I can’t lose the use of my legs.
– “What the fuck? What happened to my legs?” he shouted.
Two men from his posse came to help him but froze mid-way. They looked down at their chests with a curious expression on their faces. They could feel their hearts accelerate abnormally. Their hearts were beating faster and faster now as if they had been running uphill for miles. They could feel sharp stabbing pains inside their chests that made them clutch their hearts in surprise. Sweat perspired through their bodies while their arms and legs became weaker and weaker from the strain. Their heartbeats had now reached more than 200 beats a minute—that’s faster than the pulse of a trained athlete sprinter, unsustainably high even for young men their ages. The two men looked around, fear and panic in their eyes. One of them had one knee on the ground.
– “Haw, fuck man! My heart, what’s wrong with my heart? I think I’m having a heart attack!”
Both men slumped down to the ground moaning.
Their hearbeats were now hammering at a rate well beyond a sustainable level.
Charlize stared at the inexplicable scene, speechless. She was a scientist. A rationale person and yet, she could not even start to explain what was happening to these men.
Most of Thembani’s men had already moved back towards their vehicles as if their friends were carriers of some mortal diseases. One of them lifted his machete high as if to defend himself against an invisible ennemy and was sent lurching back, his machete flying, his hands covering his ears, screaming like a demented soul.
It was too much for the rest of them who scrambled back inside their vehicles and fled the farm in terror leaving their friends behind. Thembani was pleading, “Please, help me. My legs. I don’t know what’s wrong with my legs. You have to take me to the hospital.”
Behind Charlize, Sixpence raised both his fists in the air while the women were ululating loudly, their arms raised towards the sky.
– “Mvelinqangi, The Great One, punished them!” shouted Sixpence in Zulu to the group of farmworkers and their families. The men were jumping up and down, laughing and hugging each others while the women and children were dancing.
Charlize had recovered her smile. Jakobus, Kwanele and Stephen came close to her.
– “Miss Lizzie, do you know what happened?”
Charlize shook her head. “No, not at all. But I don’t think any of them will be back here any time soon. Kwanele, why don’t you take a few men and take these four to a hospital then you and Stephen can go back home to stay with Ma and Mbali. I’ll stay here tonight.”
– “Clark’s over there. I’m sure they’re fine. We’ll stay here with you tonight Miss Lizzie.” said Stephen.
Charlize looked up. “Clark?”
– “The new domestic. Didn’t Ma tell you about him?”
– “Ah, yes.” said Charlize wondering at the same time why that name sounded so familiar to her. Then she remembered the conversation they had at dinner about Clark Kent.
She walked back towards the group of farmworkers still talking about the miraculous event.
– “Sixpence, what do you say all of us are having a Saturday midnight braai?”
– “I think it’s a great idea, missus Lizzie.”
Jakobus came up from behind. “Should I call your dad, Lizzie?”
– “No. Let them enjoy their anniversary.”
