The Colour of Gold

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The Colour of Gold Page 14

by Oliver T Spedding


  It took the leadership of Umkhonto weSizwe or MK, four days to ratify Isaiah's membership and his proposition to supply explosives to the organisation. A price for his services was also reached although it was less than he had hoped for. He also undertook not to supply anyone else with explosives except Paul's team of illegal miners.

  Isaiah also agreed to undergo a course of instruction on how to manufacture pipe bombs and use an AK47 rifle and to help MK members build the bombs. An explosives expert was flown in from Mozambique and the instruction courses took three days. By the time Isaiah slipped back over the border into South Africa and began his return journey to Johannesburg he was a fully-fledged member of Umkhonto weSizwe and an expert in manufacturing pipe bombs.

  ***

  Shadow watched as, first the police, and then the Security Police inspected the burnt out shell of the yellow Mazda 323 in which Moses and Peter had died. His anger and hatred rose as he listened to the white policemen laughing and joking as they probed the shattered and blackened car. One of the security policemen, a man in a light blue safari suit, looked vaguely familiar but Shadow couldn't place him. Eventually the police left and the residents had to move the wreck themselves to clear the street so that other vehicles could pass. It was obvious that the bodies of Moses and Peter had been incinerated although Shadow suspected that pieces of bone and other material had been retrieved by the police forensic personnel for possible identification later.

  Shadow felt sick as he thought of the death of his two friends and fellow comrades. They had been good men who hated the ideology of apartheid and had been prepared to sacrifice their lives to free their people from the yoke of domination. He vowed that he would do everything in his power to avenge his friend's deaths and bring freedom to his people. Like Moses and Peter he was prepared to die to achieve this.

  The following day Shadow found a coded letter in the secret drop-box that he used to communicate with his superiors. It was from comrade CH in Maseru. He tucked it into his shoe and went back to his shack where he laboriously decoded it.

  "Comrade JM," it read. "We have recruited Comrade IZ who lives and works on the Deep Reef Gold Mine. He will be supplying you with explosives stolen from the mine. He has been trained in the making of explosive devices such as pipe bombs and will work with you towards the destruction of our enemies. He has been instructed to be at the Orlando East beer hall this coming Saturday afternoon and will be wearing a red baseball cap with a white feather in it. We have agreed on a price and will send you funds once you have received the explosives. "

  Shadow burnt the piece of paper and ground the ashes into the ground outside his shack with the heel of his shoe. Together with comrade IZ he would begin to fight back in earnest. He was due for a really successful mission. The attack on the Westdene police station was chicken-feed. He and comrade IZ would do something that would shake the whole world.

  CHAPTER 8

  "Good news, sir." Captain Tiaan Botha said as he sat down in one of the visitor's chairs in front of Brigadier van Tonder's desk. "The yellow Mazda with two occupants was completely destroyed in the Sowetan suburb of Orlando East by the bomb that I placed inside the vehicle. The explosion took place at a few minutes before one o'clock yesterday morning and was instantly followed by two hand grenade explosions in the front passenger's area of the car. I think that that's conclusive evidence that the men who died in the car were terrorists out on a mission."

  "Excellent!" the Brigadier said. "Did you get any information on who the occupants were?"

  "Unfortunately not, sir." Tiaan replied. "Both the occupants of the car were incinerated. We've taken a few bone samples but, apart from that, there was nothing that survived the inferno. The car was stolen in Pretoria six weeks ago."

  "What about the shack in Moletsane?" the Brigadier asked. "Anything there?"

  Tiaan shook his head.

  "Apart from five hand grenades, there was nothing that we could use to trace the identities of the two men."

  "Okay. Anything else?" the Brigadier asked.

  "Yes." Tiaan said. "Our intelligence guys came across a black by the name of Isaiah Zuma when they were checking a list of passengers that had been travelling to Ladybrand about ten days ago. Apparently this Zuma chap had a letter from the Deep Reef Gold Mine here in Jo'burg to visit his sick mother who had been visiting her sister there when she had a heart attack. They also checked with the mine management who showed them a letter that they'd given Zuma allowing him to visit his mother in Eshowe, Natal. They checked the mother's records and there was no permit allowing the woman to travel to Ladybrand from where she lives in Eshowe. Our guys then checked on her whereabouts and several neighbours confirmed that at no time had she left her home for more that a few hours during the past year. It's obvious that this Zuma was travelling on forged documents and it's my guess that he travelled on foot to the Lesotho border and crossed into that country to make contact with the A.N.C. there. According to our guys he's now back at the Deep Reef Gold Mine."

  "Very interesting." the Brigadier said. "I've no doubt that he's a new Umkhonto recruit. Keep him under surveillance. The new recruits are the one's that make the mistakes that lead to the big boys."

  ***

  Isaiah walked into the thatched beer hall in the Sowetan suburb of Orlando East. He wore a clean pair of blue overalls, leather sandals and his red baseball cap with a white chicken's feather stuck into the lining at the side. He slid the cap back on his head to expose his forehead and give himself a jauntier look. He stopped to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom and then moved to the long wooden bar counter. He ordered a Black Label beer from the barman and quietly sipped the brew as he turned and studied the huge hall with its rough wooden tables and benches. The musty smell of fermented hops and sorghum filled the air. The steady murmur of men's voices drifted over him.

  The small number of patrons in the hall surprised Isaiah until he remembered that an important football game was scheduled to be played later that afternoon between Orlando Pirates and Kaizer Chiefs. He imagined that the beer hall would be filled to capacity after the game, regardless of which team won. Black South Africans were passionate about football just as white South Africans were obsessive about rugby football.

  Noticing a large empty space at one of the tables Isaiah picked up his beer bottle and sauntered over. He sat down and greeted the other men sitting nearby who nodded to him disinterestedly and continued with their own conversation. He glanced around the dim lapa trying to guess which man was the one he was there to meet. He raised his left hand and surreptitiously felt for the feather that would identify him to his fellow Umkhonto weSizwe member. He took a sip of his beer and watched the men at the other tables as they discussed the upcoming football game, many of them displaying rosettes, shirts and caps in the colours of the teams that they supported.

  Isaiah noticed a small thin man with a noticeable limp enter the beer hall and walk to the counter. The man wore a dark blue windcheater, grey slacks and white sneakers. He ordered a beer from the barman, paid for it and took a sip. Then without looking around the hall he walked to the table where Isaiah sat and sat down on the bench opposite him. Without acknowledging Isaiah's presence he sipped his beer and watched the men around him, his open left hand lying flat on the table in front of him. The man finished his beer, stood up and walked out of the beer hall. Isaiah glanced down at the table top where the stranger had been sitting and noticed a small piece of white paper lying there. Very slowly he moved his hand across the table top and picked up the slip. Without reading it he finished his beer and left the hall.

  Isaiah walked away from the beer hall and once he was certain that nobody was following him he glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand. The address 132 MALEWA STREET was printed in pencil on the slip. With his thumb he smudged the writing until it was unreadable and tore it into small pieces. As he walked on Isaiah furtively dropped pieces of the torn paper onto the ground feeling sure that nobody would
be able to retrieve them and establish what had been written on them.

  Isaiah continued to wander around the suburb until he found Malewa Street. He walked down the deeply rutted dirt street, papers and discarded plastic bags littering the edges and the shell of a burnt-out small car on the pavement. He passed number 132 and continued to the end of the track. He walked around the block before returning to the little shack. He walked to the front door and knocked. Instantly the door opened and he entered the gloomy hut. The man with the blue windcheater and the limp smiled at him as he closed the door.

  "Greeting, Comrade IZ." he said. "I'm Comrade JM. Most people call me Shadow though. Welcome to the Soweto cell of Umkhonto weSizwe. I understand that you'll be supplying us with explosives and helping us to build pipe bombs. Unfortunately the enemy bastards murdered two of our guys in the street out there about ten days ago. You must have seen the wreck that they bombed lying on the pavement."

  Isaiah went cold with shock. He had never realised just how much danger there was in being a member of MK.

  "Yes, I saw it." he said.

  "I can see that you're shocked." Shadow said. "We're playing a deadly game here." he said. "The white bastards are determined to wipe us out and they'll go to any lengths to do so. Murder is their favourite method. You must accept that, from now on you are constantly in danger of losing your life. Unfortunately it's too late to withdraw. You know too much already. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  Isaiah nodded as he came to terms with what he'd let himself into.

  "Yes, I understand." he said. "I'm prepared to do what is necessary to win our people's freedom. I won't let you down. I'm very proud to be a member of MK."

  "I was glad to see your fear when I told you about the two men that the enemy murdered." Shadow said. "Men who have no fear are a danger to our movement. Men who have fear are men who are careful and don't do irrational things. We're all scared, comrade. Don't think that you're the only one."

  Shadow led Isaiah to the kitchen table. They sat down. Six brown beer bottles, condensation dripping of their shiny surfaces, stood on the table top. Shadow opened two and handed one to Isaiah.

  "I think that it would be wise for you to hide the explosives that you steal from the mine until you have enough to make at least one pipe bomb." Shadow said. "I don't want you to be seen around here too often. Can you do that?"

  "Yes." Isaiah said. "I can find a place in the buffer zone between here and Jo'burg where I can hide the stuff. Every now and then I'll change the hiding place."

  "Okay." Shadow said. "Our biggest problem is going to be getting the pieces of pipe for the bombs. As I understand it, each piece had to be threaded at both ends."

  "That's right." Isaiah said.

  "We have to be very careful." Shadow said. "Asking some one to do that will arouse suspicion and the enemy has spies and informants especially looking for anything that can be related to the making of pipe bombs and other explosive devices. We've got to find someone who will make the parts that we need and who won't ask questions or betray us. Do you know of anyone on the mine that can get the parts for us?"

  "No." Isaiah said. "But I'll make some enquiries."

  "Be very careful who you speak to." Shadow warned. "The enemy is everywhere."

  ***

  Even though Isaiah found himself very busy with his job on the mine, putting his scheme to steal explosives together and planning to create explosive devices for Shadow, he still felt very lonely and in need of female company. The mining fraternity was extremely male-dominated and the dearth of females created many social problems. The mine hostels and compounds were strictly for men and the only black females on the mine were a few qualified women who worked in the administration building and the domestic workers who worked in the mine houses for the white miners and their families. Wherever Isaiah went he was constantly on the lookout for possible female company but apart from the prostitutes in the buffer zone and in Soweto there were few opportunities to meet women and form a more lasting relationship. He asked Solomon how he coped with his loneliness.

  "It's a big problem." Solomon said. "All these men and so few women. There are always fights when it comes to women. I am fortunate that I met a woman who works in Sandton and lives here in Soweto. Every day she has to travel to Sandton and back and it takes her two hours to get there and two hours to get back. She has to leave for work at five o'clock in the morning and only gets home at seven in the evening so I only see her on the weekends. But she is always being harassed by single men from the mines and she's very unhappy. Her family lives in Pietersburg, nearly five hundred kilometres away, and she only sees them at Christmas time."

  "Are there lots of women like your friend?" Isaiah asked.

  "There are." Solomon replied. "Most of them are domestic workers. The white homeowners don't worry too much about the Group Areas Act that forbids black people to work in areas outside those they were born in, so they employ illegal workers because they know that they will work hard and not cause any trouble. They employ them as casual workers so that there's no contract and they can fire them at any time. Also, if the police catch them, they say that the person was only working for them as a temporary worker."

  "I wonder what these women do in their free time." Isaiah said.

  "As far as I know, most of them live in small rooms at the back of their employer's houses or in shacks in Soweto and Alexander Township." Solomon said. "But they are very scared of being arrested by the police and sent back to where they were born so they stay indoors most of the time. Without their families and friends they must be very lonely."

  "What about the woman who work here on the mine?" Isaiah asked.

  "Most of them are elderly women." Solomon said. "The younger ones mostly work in the administration section and have families in Soweto. None of the women are allowed to live on the mine premises."

  Whenever he could, Isaiah began walking past the white miner's houses on the mine in the hope of meeting a suitable woman. Solomon was right though; most of them were elderly and not what he was looking for. The other problem was that some of the women finished work before Isaiah did so he wasn't able to see them. One day though, the underground day shift was brought to the surface early because of an underground accident. Isaiah hurried to the mine residential area in the hope of meeting the women who finished work early. To his surprise he noticed a tall slim young black woman leave one of the houses at three o'clock. She was well dressed and very attractive. He waited at the edge of the road as she approached.

  "Hello." he said as the woman drew level with where he was standing. "I noticed that you work for the people in that old house over there. Do you live in Soweto?"

  The woman glanced at Isaiah and smiled. He was glad to see that she wasn't offended by his unsolicited approach.

  "Yes." she said. "Why do you ask?"

  "I work here on the mine but I'm not happy living in the single compound." Isaiah replied. "I'm thinking of finding somewhere to live in Soweto. Do you know of any accommodation that's available?"

  "There are small shacks at the back of many of the houses." the woman said. "I'm renting one in Orlando East. What's your name?"

  "Isaiah. What's yours?"

  "Catherine." the woman replied.

  "If you hear of a shack that's available will you let me know, please?" Isaiah asked.

  "Okay." Catherine said. "But how will I contact you?"

  "Perhaps we can meet at a shebeen in Soweto." Isaiah suggested.

  "Yes." Catherine said. "What about this Friday? We can go to "Aunty Flo's Shebeen. It's very nice and relaxing there. Do you know it?"

  "No." Isaiah said. "But what if I meet you here on Friday and we go there together?"

  "Okay." Catherine said. "But I finish work at three o'clock. What time do you finish work?"

  Isaiah grimaced.

  "That's a problem." he said. "I only knock off at five."

  "Well, I'll give you my address and you can co
me to where I stay when you've finished work." Catherine said. "Then we can go to the shebeen together."

  "That would be great!" Isaiah exclaimed.

  ***

  After showering and putting on a clean white shirt, blue denim slacks and leather sandals Isaiah set out for Soweto, walking as quickly as he could. He knew that he and Catherine would have to get to the shebeen, have a few drinks and then get back to her shack before dark or face the possibility of being murdered or raped and maimed by the psychopathic children who roamed the city after dark. And, unless he spent the night with Catherine, he also had to get out of Soweto and back to the mine safely.

  As Isaiah walked towards the sprawling metropolis he noticed a huge bank of clouds approaching from the west. Clouds that came from that direction usually brought rain. He increased his speed but as he reached the outskirts of the city the first large drops of rain began to fall. Isaiah began to run but within minutes the increasing torrent had drenched him.

  Finally Isaiah reached the address that Catherine had given him. Brilliant flashes of lightning followed by mighty crashes of thunder rocked the neighbourhood as he hurried to the little wooden shack at the back of the house. He knocked loudly on the rickety wooden door. It opened and Catherine beckoned him to enter, the drumming of the rain on the corrugated iron roof making it impossible to speak.

  Catherine closed the door of the little shack. Isaiah smiled at her, embarrassed.

  "I never thought to bring an umbrella." he shouted above the roar of the falling rain.

  "Don’t' worry about it." Catherine replied. "I don't even have an umbrella. But you can't stay in those wet clothes. Take off your shirt and I'll hang it up to dry."

  Isaiah removed his shirt and, as Catherine hung it on a piece of wire strung across the room, he looked at the contents of the small abode. Against the one wall stood an iron bed painted black with a thin mattress covered by a colourful blanket depicting an African design. Next to it was a small wooden cupboard on which stood a single white candle. A small wooden wardrobe stood against another wall and next to it was a small table with a large plastic basin on it. A small round table and two kitchen chairs stood against the third wall. On the table was a brass primus stove and another candle. A tiny window covered with opaque plastic sheeting provided the only natural lighting. The floor of the room was dried mud. A large orange plastic bucket for collecting water from the communal tap at the end of the street stood near the door.

 

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