While Hennie was enjoying Ma Gugu’s version of popular Afrikaner dishes, six miles away, on the other side of Elizabethtown, nine-years old Maggie, looked up with pleading eyes at the store owner.
– “Hey, kid. I’m out of that brand of cigarettes. You’re gonna have to go to the general store in the Indian district.” Walter Sisulu talked to the little girl in Afrikaans. He knew that most of the kids from Sophia Park do not speak English. Sophia Park, like all the other camps for poor whites that had sprung overnight like mushrooms around towns and cities all over the country since the end of apartheid, was home to some 200 white squatters living in shacks without electricity and running water, doing their cookings over an open camp fire. They were the casualties of South Africa reverse-apartheid and affirmative action legislation.
Walter was a ‘colored’ man which explained his store location lodged between a black township and a white squatter camp. The classification of ‘colored’ dated back to the apartheid era and applied to persons of mixed ancestry, mostly from the South Africans of European descent and the Black South Africans. In South Africa, you are either White, Black, Indian or Colored.
– “Please, can I have my money back, meneer?” said the little girl, standing tiptoe, holding up her hand.
– “What money? You didn’t give me any money, kid.” said Walter raising his voice.
Maggie knew the man would never give her money back now. Her Mom had given her two bills of 100 rands to buy two packs of cigarettes and she had given the man the first note when he had asked if she had any money. Maggie knew she was in trouble. Her Mom would never believe her. Instinctively, Maggie clutched hard her small left fist to hide the other bill from the store owner’s view.
Walter looked down hard at her. “I said I don’t have the damn cigarettes, now out!”
Maggie tried hard not to cry knowing that her Mom would really be mad at her. She walked out and looked across the dark dirt road with terror. To reach the Indian store, she would have to cross the road and follow the gravel path behind the old abandoned factory where grown-ups from the black township nearby might be hanging around.
Maggie twisted the bottom of her favorite dress, her only good one. She was lucky to be able to secure this one. She had stayed in line for a very long time that day behind the truck from the church without her Mom who was asleep, drunk in their one-room shack at the camp. More than once she got pushed back behind the line by grown-ups but she never lost hope, always peeping from behind the person in front of her to see if there were any clothes left in the truck. When it was finally her turn, the man had asked her what she wanted. Food parcel, cloth or shoes? Although Maggie had not eaten the whole day and her tummy was growling, she had asked for the dress. Next time, she would ask for the shoes. Her feet hurt everyday but she was getting used to walk barefoot.
Maggie knew she could not return to the camp without her Mom’s cigarettes. She would yell at her and tell her again that she was a useless little girl, a burden to her, another mouth to feed. Maggie had always been afraid of the dark but she was more afraid of the black men. But, even though she was only nine, she knew that she was more afraid of disappointing her mother than anything else. And so, with her little heart beating faster and faster and tears in her eyes, she crossed the dirt road into the deserted path behind the abandoned factory under the South African falling night.
Maggie advanced cautiously in the dark, her bare feet on the gravel, forcing herself not to look at any shadows lest she would spook herself. The only sound she could hear was of her little heart. It was beating so loudly. Every ten or so steps, she would make sure that the bill of 100 rands was still in her tiny clutched hand.
Maggie was almost at the end of the path when a crunching noise from behind startled her. It was the sound of shoes walking on gravel. Without turning her head, Maggie walked faster. The sounds behind her also grew louder and faster.
Maggie started running when she heard other sounds of feet and voices of grown-ups speaking a language she did not understand. Her feet hurt more and more at each step she took but she kept running, too scared for even calling for help. She ran with all her strength blindly through the dark deserted alleys. She could feel that one of them was close, too close. She threw away the money in hope that her pursuer would stop to pick it up but the footsteps behind her did not slow down.
Maggie whimpered a ‘Help, please. Someone help me please.’ when she heard a woman’s voice ahead.
– “Hey you! Stop! What are you doing? Stop!”
Tears in her eyes, Maggie ran towards the voice while whoever was behind her had stopped.
A woman scooped her in her arms. “There, there. Sweetie. It’s over now.”
Maggie could not understand what the woman was saying but she knew it was in English.
The woman took Maggie inside the store. She was still talking to her but then must have realized that she did not understand English and switched to Afrikaans.
– “You speak only Afrikaans, right? There, sweetie. What’s your name?”
Maggie told her name between sobs.
– “There, there. It’s over.”
The pretty woman held her up and said with a smile. “My name’s Amina.”
Maggie, still in tears, explained to Amina what had happened to her.
– “Shhhht—You’re safe now, Maggie.”
Some customers went out the store looking for the skollies while a few grouped themselves around Amina and Maggie.
– “Amina?”
Amina stopped rocking Maggie and turned around. Maggie looked in the same direction and saw a very handsome man standing at the store entrance holding an empty dish in his hands.
Maggie watched Amina and the man talked in English for a while before the man turned to her and said in Afrikaans.
– “Maggie, my name’s Clark.”
And Maggie knew. She knew the minute he looked into her eyes. She understood him clearly. She knew she was safe. She knew he had felt all her worries, her pain, her sadness and what might have been strange to an adult but not to a nine-years old, she knew that he was her Guardian Angel. He had been telling her all this just by looking into her eyes. Without a word, she leaned towards him and he gently took her in his arms.
– “Maggie, did you get everything?”
Maggie nodded and smiled. “You came to bring back Amina’s dishes?”
– “Yes, and did you get the other things too?”
Another nod. “You’re my Guardian Angel?”
– “Yes, I am. From now on, nothing bad will ever happen to you again. You will never feel any fear in your heart again.”
Amina looked at them and said as a joke. “You two can talk with your minds?”
Maggie laughed. “Yes, I heard everything he said to me.”
Amina turned to Clark. “Well Clark. No woman is safe around you. Even little girls fall for you at first sight.” then to Maggie, “Let’s get you clean up, feed and then I’ll take you home. Don’t you worry about the money you dropped back there. I’ll replace it.”
– “Amina, Maggie’s Mom might be worried by now. Why don’t I take her home now and tomorrow we’ll come back for a nice dinner, just the three of us.”
Amina looked at them. “Promise?”
Maggie laughed while nodding her head happily.
