Like all the other small rural towns in South Africa, Elizabethtown was surrounded by farms belonging to wealthy Afrikaners with workers being mostly black while the colored and Indian people held small necessity stores. Although everyone was free to live and work where they pleased since the end of apartheid, South African towns still retained their districts of ethnic groups and Elizabethtown was no exception.
Inside the library in the white district, Amina Sheth glanced with amusement at the handsome man leafing through the encyclopedia. He wasn’t reading it. He simply turned the pages over extremely fast the same way he had done with the other books she had brought him. Books about Physics, Mathematics and Genetics.
Amina worked there only part-time, mostly on Saturdays from 9:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. The rest of the time, she’d be helping out at her father’s general store in the Indian district just two blocks away. Although raised in the strict Indian tradition, Amina was more of a Westerner mold than Indian. She was never seen wearing saris, even at home, preferring instead men’s baggy shirt and pants with a matched bush hat to the great despair of her mother and all the potential husbands she brought home. But Amina had one thing for her. She was blessed with that beauty peculiar to Indian women, a beauty that could make any man yearn, no matter what his skin color.
Chastising herself for being so weak, Amina passed behind the man’s desk pretending to be re-arranging books on the shelves and was looking directly over his shoulder. The pages of the encyclopedia were a blur to her as the man leafed through it.
– “Are you looking for something?” she asked with a bright smile holding a few books against her.
Clark stopped suddenly and looked up. “Oh, uh, as a matter of fact, yes. I thought I might have left an important piece of paper in one of those books.”
Oh my God, he is really handsome, she thought. “Would you like me to help you find it?”
– “That won’t be necessary. I’ll come back some other time. Thank you, though.”
– “Are you new in town? I know I haven’t seen you before.”
– “Yes, since last night.”
– “Are you living close by?” the words came out before she could think and regretted it instantly. “I’m sorry. I did mean to pry—”
Clark stood up. “No, that’s alright, Amina.”
Amina blushed and looked at him curiously. “You know my name?”
Clark smiled and pointed somewhere in the direction above her heart. Amina pulled out the books she was holding and looked at her name tag. “Oh, that’s right.”
– “My name’s Clark.”
She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Clark.”
A current ran through her the minute he touched her hand and her brain was screaming at her. Come on, Amina. Ask him. Ask him if he wants to have lunch with you. Ask now or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.
But before she could come up with something else to say and as if the man could read her mind, she heard him say,
– “Do you think you could show me where to eat?”
– “Oh, yes. I’ll be glad to. We’re not far from the Indian district. Do you like Indian food?”
– “I think I can eat anything. I’m famished. What about you?”
– “I’m not that hungry but I can grab a few bites.” Don’t play too hard to get, she said to herself.
– “No, I mean. I’d be honored if you’d come along.”
Amina’s heart was beating so fast now she could barely hear her own answer. She could already imagine the looks of envy from all the women they would encounter. “I’d like that. Just give me a minute to tell my supervisor I’m on my lunch break.”
– “Hey bro, here she is. That’s her, that’s the one!” said one of the five black men inside a sedan parked a block away from the library.
– “Who’s the doos dressed like a kaffir?” asked one of three men in the rear seat.
– “Who cares. Tonight, you guys can keep whatever you find in their house but that girl is mine.” said Khuzani, riding shotgun. He was bitter. A leader of the numerous gangs from the black township, he had long had eyes on that beautiful Indian girl. But when he had found the courage to go up to her, she had dismissed him with a disdainful smile, like she was too good for him. I’ll show that bitch, he thought.
– “Her old man keeps the money in the house?” asked another one from the back.
– “He must. They live above their superette.”
– “I don’t know man,” said the driver, a small wiry man with vicious eyes, “we’ll be in the fucking Indian district and there’s always a dozen of them milling about at any time of day. These people don’t sleep, man. They fucking work all the time. Someone could hear or see us. They’re no white farmers.”
He was referring to their last break-in into a farm house not far from Johannesburg. Four of them had beaten the surprised old white man to death with sjamboks, the heavy leather whips of South Africa, while Khuzani was searching for other occupants. When the man’s old wife opened the bathroom door from where she was bathing her five year-old granddaughter, Khuzani had slashed her in the neck with a machete almost decapitating her. They took their time to go through the house looking for money while the little girl kept asking what’s wrong with my grannie? Annoyed, Khuzani grabbed the little girl and threw her hard inside a closet. The five of them left an hour later with a CD player, a handbag with 50 rands and a cellphone. When the neighbors arrived two hours later, they found the little girl trying to wake up her grandparents.
Khuzani glared at his driver. “What, you chicken out? You’re afraid of a bunch of coolies?”
– “No. I’m just thinking—”
– “Well, you can stop now. I’m thinking for us all.”
Amina had never been so happy. She was showing the town to Clark while they made their way to the Indian district. She stopped suddenly and touched his arm. “Clark, is everything alright?”
– “Yes, why?”
Amina smiled, “I don’t know. You seem to be listening to something else—”
Clark shook his head. “No, I was just wondering, could we stand here for a few minutes so I can take in the view?”
Amina thought that was curious but she agreed. But then, she realized that Clark did not look like he was admiring the view at all. Instead, he looked like someone intently concentrating on something.
Almost two blocks down on the same street, a man on the passenger side of a sedan started screaming wildly, writhing inside the car, his hands over his ears. Khuzani threw himself back heavily, his feet kicking the windshield. Passers-by, office workers going out for lunch looked at the scene wide-eyed.
– “Hey, what the fuck? Khuzani! What’s going on?” shouted the driver at his friend who was crouching against the door. The three men from the rear seat leaned over trying to hold their friend still.
– “Khuzani, what’s wrong man?”
They were still trying to understand what happened to their leader when the driver leaped up hitting the car’s roof violently, wailing in pain, his hands covering his ears. He came down with his head forward and got knocked hard by the steering wheel. A moment later, the remaining three men started howling from pain in the back seat.
Clark took Amina’s arm. “Amina. I’m glad I have come to the library today.”
She smiled at him. “Me, too.”
They crossed the street and turned the corner just before a patrol policeman discovered five unconscious men inside a parked sedan bleeding from their ears and noses.
