The Colour of Gold

by Oliver T Spedding

  The area, now known as Lenasia, had originally belonged to a farmer by the name of Mister Lenz and when he sold the farm to the government it had been turned into a military base. Finally the Nationalist government had rezoned the land under the Group Areas Act for the habitation of Indians and named the suburb "Lenasia".

  "Are we coming to live here?" Salona asked, her face filled with worry.

  "Yes, my dearest." Fatima said. "But it's not as bad as it looks. It will take us some time to settle in but once that's done we'll be very happy here."

  Bala could see that Salona wasn't convinced.

  "Once all the houses have been built it will be just like a real town." he said. "We will just have to be patient. They are also building a brand new school. Won't it be exciting to go to a brand new school?"

  "I suppose so." Salona said.

  "Anyway, let's go and look around." Bala said. "The more we know about Lenasia the easier it will be to adjust."

  Bala led his family along one of the dusty roads. The poverty and degradation was depressing but he kept on reminding himself that things could only get better. What they were now seeing was probably Lenasia at its worse.

  Bala stopped and addressed a man sitting on the doorstep of one of the barracks.

  "Excuse me, sir." he said. "We're going to be coming to live here shortly. At the moment we're living in Pageview but the government will be moving us in four weeks time. What can we expect when we get here?"

  "If you haven't bought a property on freehold land and built your own house you'll be settled in one of these barracks." the man said. "They're single rooms with a small kitchen but they're only supposed to be used temporarily. Once the government completes the RDP houses you'll be allocated one. They've got two bedrooms, a kitchen and a living area. After that, if you can arrange financing or are wealthy enough, you can buy freehold land and build your own house. At the moment the government is far behind schedule with the construction of the two room houses but I imagine that when they're completed thing won't be as bad as they look now."

  Bala thanked the man and the trio continued along the road. They reached one of the almost-completed two-room houses. The structure was built of large grey cinder blocks with a sloping asbestos roof. Inside were two small bedrooms on either side of the front door, a tiny kitchen, a bathroom and another small room that Bala assumed was the living room. An outside toilet stood forlornly in the small backyard. The workmanship appeared to be shoddy and the taps and other fitting were cheap-looking.

  "Well, it's no smaller than our house in Pageview." Bala said, trying to be optimistic. "And, as that man said, once all the houses have been completed and the roads tarred it will look a lot better than it does now."

  Bala and Fatima couldn't help feeling depressed as they walked away from the little house. They ventured further into the vast estate. They found the beginnings of a small shopping centre and further on they came to an already completed and functional school, although there were as yet no sports fields or other facilities. They stopped to speak to the occupants of an already-completed "two-room" house.

  "The houses aren't too bad." the man said. "I suppose it depends on what you were living in before. We lived in a small house in lower Pageview that was made of corrugated iron sheeting so this house is much better. My only complaint is that we're now living amongst strangers. All my life I've lived amongst people that I knew and cared about but now all my neighbours are strangers. Although we will get to know each other eventually, the adjustment is quite traumatic."

  "What about the facilities like water and electricity?" Fatima asked.

  "At the moment there are constant interruptions." the man's wife said." This is because of the ongoing construction in the area. Every time the engineers have to test a new installation the water or the electricity goes off."

  "What about the future of Lenasia?" Bala asked. "Is it going to work?"

  The man shrugged his shoulders.

  "Who knows?" he said. "The fact is that we really have no option. It has to work. But it's up us to make it successful. The government won't do anything more than what they have to. The problem is time. How long will it take for Lenasia to become an established suburb? I hope it'll be during my lifetime."

  "What about the shops?" Bala asked. "We saw a small shopping centre being built and a few other small individual shops."

  "Shops have been allocated to those who have applied." the man said. "But the government is focusing on the houses and only once they've been completed will the shops be built. But there are quite a few shops here. Mainly small shops selling groceries that belong to people who can't afford to travel to Jo'burg every day. The big shopping chains will only come in later once Lenasia is established. What we're doing is trying to visualise all these houses with nice gardens, tarred roads, streetlights and lots of people. If you can do that the future looks much better."

  "Yes." Bala said. "I suppose that's the way to look at the whole thing. It's going to take time but in the end it will probably be a great success."

  ***

  Bala and Fatima travelled back to their house in silence, each trying to come to terms with what faced them. Salons stood at the train's window, staring at the vast metropolis of Soweto as it drifted past the speeding train. They walked from the Braamfontein to their Pageview home and Fatima made supper. Once the meal had been eaten and Salona was tucked up in bed Bala and Fatima sat down at the kitchen table to discuss the afternoon's venture.

  "The man at the RDP house was right." Bala said. "We've got to look at what Lenasia will become and not what it is now. We've got to find things that are positive about the situation we're entering."

  "Yes, you're right, my dearest." Fatima said. "One of the things that I got to thinking about while we travelling back on the train is that the people in Lenasia at the moment don't have access to a tailor's shop. I definitely didn't see one while we were there. When we finally get there and have settled in perhaps we should open a depot where people can hand in their clothes that they want altered or repaired and we could take them to the shop and bring them back when they're fixed. In that way we'll be increasing the number of our customers."

  "That's a wonderful idea!" Bala exclaimed. "We'll buy a big suitcase and transport the clothing in it. It's not all that far from Braamfontein station or even Mayfair station to the Oriental Plaza. We could even get one of those suitcases that have wheels."

  "Also, that school that we looked at will probably have more up-to-date facilities and equipment than the older schools in Jo'burg." Fatima said. "And it will be better if we move to Lenasia before she starts school. Moving from one school to another can be very traumatic for a young person."

  "That's also true." Bala said. "And even if the house is a little shoddy to start with we can improve it as time goes by. And what's also exciting is that we'll have a garden. That's something that I never thought we would ever have!"

  ***

  The big white government truck stopped in front of number twenty one, Nineteenth Street in Pageview, Johannesburg. A small white government sedan that Bala recognised as belonging to Mister Viljoen, the government official responsible for forced removals and the man who had supervised the removal of Balas' shop's contents to the Oriental Plaza, pulled into the curb side behind it. Bala stood on the narrow pavement as the white official approached him.

  "So, we meet again, Mister Desai." the white man said. "I hope that this time you're going to be more co-operative than you were when we moved your shop's contents to the Oriental Plaza."

  "I won't be giving you any trouble today, Mister Viljoen." Bala said. "Although I abhor what you and your government are doing to me and my family, I realise that it would be futile to resist."

  "I'm glad you've come to your senses." Viljoen said. "The government is far too big for you to challenge. Now, here are the official documents authorising me to remove the contents of your house and convey them to Lenasia. Have you packed all your p
ossessions properly? My men cannot be held responsible for any damage to your property."

  "Yes, we've packed everything as well as we could." Bala replied. "Apart from the furniture, everything else is in cardboard boxes."

  "Good!" Viljoen said. "Then we can start right away."

  The white government official beckoned to the waiting black removal crew. They jumped off the back of the truck and walked to where Viljoen stood.

  "Go into the house and bring everything out." Viljoen said. "Try not to break anything."

  The men entered the house and a short while later began emerging with furniture and cardboard boxes which they loaded onto the back of the truck. They continued to work until the house was empty. Bala led Viljoen into the empty house to assure him that everything had been removed. Fatima and Salona stood in the empty front room. Mister Viljoen ignored them.

  "Okay, let's go." Viljoen said and left the house.

  Bala, Fatima and Salons followed the white man out of the house.

  "It's not necessary to lock the house." Viljoen said. "The bulldozers will be here later to flatten the house. You and your wife and child can ride on the back of the truck with the removal crew.'

  The white official hurried to his car and climbed in.

  The removal crew helped the Indian family onto the back of the truck and cleared a space so that they could sit with their backs against the back of the cab. The truck's motor burst into life and it pulled away from the curb, following the small white sedan. It merged into the busy Johannesburg traffic and drove South.

  The little Indian family sat in the back of the truck and watched the little house that they had lived in for less than a year, recede into the distance.

  ***

  "One of my informers in Soweto has been keeping an eye on that chap Isaiah Zuma." Tiaan Botha told Brigadier van Tonder as they stood in the foyer waiting for the elevator. "My guy thinks that he may have made contact with an Umkhonto weSizwe operative on Saturday. Apparently this Zuma chap went to a beer hall in Orlando East and, although my informant didn't see him make contact with anyone, he believes that information passed between him and someone else. When Zuma left the beer hall he wandered around Orlando East for some time and then went to a house in Malewa street, number one hundred and twenty three. He remained there for an hour and then left. What's interesting though, sir, is that Malewa Street is the street where the car that I booby-trapped blew up."

  The Brigadier raised his eyebrows.

  "Yes, that is interesting." he said as the two men entered the lift. "What do you want to do now?"

  "I'd like to hit the house as soon as possible, sir." Tiaan replied. "Possibly even tonight. I'll take two men with me and we'll take out whoever's in the house. I'm not going to even give them a chance to surrender. It's too risky, especially in the dark. We'll riddle the house with AK 47 fire, toss grenades into all four of the rooms and then get out of there as quickly as possible. Once again the press are bound to accuse us of assassinating the enemy but they won't be able to prove anything."

  "Okay." the Brigadier said as they reached his office on the tenth floor. "Go ahead. Just make sure that the three of you get away safely and don't leave any evidence of your presence there. We don't need a scandal of any kind."

  ***

  The three white men moved silently away from their parked car parked in the buffer zone between Orlando east and the Consolidated Main Reef Gold Mine in Roodepoort, west of Johannesburg. They were dressed in dark camouflage clothing, their heads covered by black balaclavas and their faces blackened. Each carried an automatic rifle. Quickly they moved through the undergrowth between the huge blue gum trees until they reached the first houses in the black suburb. Silently they moved along the uneven dirt street until they reached Malewa Street. They huddled together in the darkness beside one of the houses.

  "Number one twenty three is the eighth house on the left hand side of the street from here." Tiaan whispered. "Jan, you and I will hit the house with automatic rifles and Piet, once we've shot up the place, you move up and toss grenades into all four of the rooms. Then we get out of there as quickly as possible and go back along the same route as we used to get here."

  The other two men nodded.

  "Okay, let's go." Tiaan whispered.

  The three white killers moved swiftly along the uneven street counting the houses as they passed them. When they got to house number one hundred and twenty three they split up, Tiaan and Jan moving up to the front of the little house while Piet moved quietly to the back where he positioned himself so that he could cover the back door and was also out of the firing line of his companions. As he took out two of the grenades from the canvas pouch at his side he heard Tiaan and Jan open fire.

  The harsh clatter of the automatic rifles shattered the silence of the township. Glass burst and tinkled to the ground. Bullets slammed into the walls, some of them ricocheting into the darkness. A woman screamed inside the house and a man began shouting hysterically only to be cut off abruptly as the bullets found their mark. The shooting stopped and Piet rushed forward pulling the pins from the grenades and hurling them through the windows. More glass crashed and dogs started barking and howling all across the neighbourhood. Piet tossed grenades through the remaining two windows and sprinted away. As he started down the dirt street he heard the first two grenades explode followed almost immediately by the other two. He glanced overt his shoulder and saw smoke and flames billow out of the shattered windows.

  The three killers raced along the rutted street as more and more dogs barked and howled. They reached the buffer zone and quickly made their way to the vehicle. The engine roared into life and moved off into the darkness.

  Back in Malewa Street the residents huddled in their little houses, not daring to investigate the plight of the people in number one hundred and twenty three. Only Shadow, in house number one hundred and thirty two, moved quickly in response to the attack. As quickly as he could he gathered up all his belongings and stuffed them into his rucksack, wiped a cloth over all the surfaces that he might have touched during his stay in the little house and, as the incessant barking of the dogs died down, quietly left the house and disappeared into the darkness.

  ***

  "What the hell went wrong?" Brigadier van Tonder said as Tiaan entered his office. "The press are going mad! They're accusing us of murdering two innocent people!"

  "I'm sorry, sir." Tiaan said, his face grim. "My informant gave mw the wrong information. The house we should have hit was number one hundred and thirty two, not one hundred and twenty three."

  "Do you know who was in one twenty three?" the Brigadier asked.

  "Yes. Tiaan replied. "It was a Mister and Misses Cele. He worked as a cleaner at Anglo American head office and she worked as a tea girl for a firm of accountants."

  "And what about the inhabitants of house one hundred and thirty two?" the Brigadier asked.

  "We don't know who they were." Tiaan replied. "The place was empty and the whole place wiped clean of prints. The man or men that we should have hit have escaped. I'm sorry sir. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have been in such a hurry."

  "Well, it's too late for recriminations now." van Tonder said, shaking his head in frustration. "The man or men that we wanted are on the loose and they know we're onto them. It's going to be very difficult to get them now. But I want them. I don't care how you do it; just find them and then eliminate them"

  CHAPTER 9

  "A house in the street where I was staying in Orlando east was hit by the Security Police last night and two innocent people were killed." Shadow told Isaiah as they stood in a small copse of trees in the buffer zone. "I've no doubt that I was the intended target but the whiteys obviously got the wrong address."

  "What are you going to do?" Isaiah asked, fear filling his whole body. "If the Security Police know who you are they'll catch you sooner or later."

  Shadow could clearly see the fear in Isaiah's eyes. He shook his head.


  "I don't think that they actually know who I am or what I'm doing." he said. "I think that you were probably followed to the house and whoever followed you got the number of the house wrong. After all, none of the houses in that street actually display their numbers. But, I'm not too worried about my own safety. There are plenty of safe houses in Soweto and other townships across the country. What really worries me is that, if you were followed, then the security police must be aware of you. So, this is going to be our last face-to-face meeting for some time."

  "If the Security Police are onto me shouldn't I go into hiding?" Isaiah asked. "Won't they come and arrest me?"

  "I don't think so." Shadow said. "I doubt that they've got much that they can charge you with. Apart from being a member of the A.N.C. you haven't done anything illegal. What they'll probably do is watch you in the hope that you'll lead them to me or some other MK operative. So it's important that you act normal and don't let them think that you're aware of their presence."

  "Okay." Isaiah said. "But it's not going to be easy."

  "Don't worry about it." Shadow said. "We know how to handle the situation. Just be patient and wait for your instructions. We have plenty of ways of communicating with you."

  "What about the bombs that we were planning to make?" Isaiah asked. "Are we going to scrap them?"

  "Definitely not." Shadow said. "Here's what I want you to do. Make contact with that white guy Vodnik and arrange a meeting. Take the photographs with you and if he tries to get out of dealing with you, show them to him. He'll quickly come to his senses. While you're waiting for him to get the parts, come to the beer hall in Orlando east each evening at six o'clock and have a beer. Wear your red cap with the feather in it. Then, once you have the parts and have hidden them safely, come to the beer hall without the feather. There will be an MK operative at the beer hall every day and as soon as he sees that there is no feather in your cap we will know that you have the parts. Then you must wait for us to contact you."