The Colour of Gold (15 page)

The mine
management was very sympathetic towards Isaiah's supposed plight
when he produced the fake letter and granted him the two weeks
compassionate leave that he requested. He withdrew most of the
money that he'd saved from selling explosives to Paul and also
managed to get a small advance from the mine against his pension
fund contributions. He packed his clothes into a small brown
cardboard suitcase and set out for Lesotho.

***

Isaiah realised
that it wasn't simply a matter of taking a bus to Lesotho. The mine
had given him a letter explaining that he was employed by them and
was travelling to Natal on compassionate leave for two weeks. His
passbook stated that he was born in the Eshowe and had permission
to work in the Transvaal at the Deep Reef Gold Mine. If the police
found him anywhere else in the country he would be arrested and
jailed. Isaiah was also aware that the closer he got to Lesotho the
more vigilant the police would be. Hundreds, if not thousands, of
would-be freedom fighters were travelling to Lesotho and crossing
the border at night in the hope of receiving military training that
would allow them to return and fight for their freedom.

With the letter
that he'd received from the mine Isaiah went back to the literate
miner who had created the letter from his "uncle".

"Can you make a
copy of this letter and change the names from Eshowe to Ladybrand?"
he asked.

The man studied
the document.

"Yes, it's
possible to do that." he said. "I will have to cover the body of
the letter so that I can make a copy of the letterhead. Then I'll
type in the new wording and forge the signature. It's going to cost
you fifteen Rand though."

"That's okay."
Isaiah said.

The following
day Isaiah collected the forged letter allowing him to go to
Ladybrand and went to the South African Railway's booking office
where he purchased a ticket to Ladybrand.

"The bus leaves
at six o'clock this evening." the clerk behind the counter told
him. "You should get to Ladybrand at three o'clock tomorrow
morning."

This suited
Isaiah perfectly. As Ladybrand was just over twenty kilometres from
the Lesotho border be reckoned that he could easily walk from there
and cross the border before daylight. He would then make his way to
the capital, Maseru, and make contact with the A.N.C.

Just before six
that evening Isaiah climbed into the "non white" section of the
huge dark red Railway's bus carrying his brown cardboard suitcase
and took a seat in the back corner. He planned to get as much sleep
as possible during the trip so that he would be fresh and alert
when he walked to the Lesotho border. He had no doubt that there
would be police patrols in the area and he would have to be quick
to react if he encountered any of them.

The trip was
uneventful until the bus was ten kilometres past Bloemfontein on
the road to Ladybrand. Isaiah was just beginning to doze off when
he noticed the bus beginning to slow. He peered through the front
windscreen and saw a number of flashing blue lights in the road
ahead. As the bus neared the flashing lights its headlights picked
up five yellow police vans, a number of blue-uniformed policemen
and several men dressed in camouflage uniform and carrying
automatic rifles.

The bus came to
a halt with a harsh burst of compressed air from the brakes. The
door to the "non whites" section swished open and two white
policemen and an armed soldier entered.

"This is a
police roadblock!" the lead policeman shouted. "Get your passbooks
out for inspection!"

Passengers
began scrounging in their luggage and their clothes for their
identity documents. Isaiah took out his passbook and the forged
letter. The policemen moved slowly along the aisle inspecting the
passenger's documents and making notes on a clipboard. Eventually
they reached the back of the bus. The policeman glared at Isaiah
and held out his open hand. Isaiah handed him his documents. The
angry white man studied them intently.

"Your passbook
says that you come from Eshowe. What is your mother doing in
Ladybrand?" the policeman asked, still glaring at Isaiah.

Isaiah had been
expecting this question.

"My mother was
visiting her sister when she had a heart attack." Isaiah replied.
"As she is dying she could not go back to Eshowe."

The policeman
stared at Isaiah, his eyes narrowing as he assessed what he had
been told. Isaiah stared back at him expressionlessly. He made a
note of Isaiah's name and identity number as well as several other
details before dropping the documents onto Isaiah's lap. He turned
and with the other two officers, left the bus. He signalled to the
policemen blocking the road and the moved away. The bus driver
revved the engine and the massive vehicle moved off. Isaiah took a
deep breath. Now, all he had to do was get from Ladybrand to the
border.

***

Isaiah left the
brightly-lit bus depot and walked out into the street. As he walked
he watched his shadow lengthen as he passed each streetlamp. He
knew that Lesotho lay to the south of the town so he began to walk
in that direction, constantly alert for approaching vehicles and
pedestrians. The small town was quiet. In the distance he heard a
dog barking. He reached the edge of the town and stared into the
darkness. He guessed that the area between the town and the border
was all farmland and that, apart from the possibility of meeting a
police patrol, he was unlikely to encounter any other people. He
took a deep breath and walked out into the gloom.

As his eyes
grew accustomed to the darkness Isaiah began to distinguish trees,
bushes and rocky outcrops. He walked as quickly as the conditions
would allow, watching the ground in front of him intently and,
although he stumbled frequently, he made good progress. He came to
a small stream, the water rushing noisily over the rounded rocks.
He stepped into the cool water, stopped to drink several handfuls
of the fluid and waded further. The water level rose to mid-calf
before dropping. He reached the sandy far edge and continued
walking.

***

Isaiah
estimated that he had covered about three quarters of the distance
to the border when he heard voices ahead of him. He looked around
quickly and notices a small clump of bushes nearby. Quietly he
moved into the thicket and sat down. The voices grew louder and he
recognised the hated Afrikaans language. Fearful that the whites of
his eyes would betray him he stared fixedly at the ground at his
feet. He heard the invisible men approaching. They appeared to be
walking in single file. The footsteps grew louder, the dry grass
crackling as the men's feet moved over it. Suddenly, in the
periphery of his vision, a dark shape loomed out of the
darkness.

Isaiah held his
breath, his whole body rigid with fear. Had he come all this way
only to be caught by a roving police patrol? he wondered. The dark
shape of the leading man moved past him, so close that he could
smell the man's body odour. Another dark shape appeared and moved
past and then another. Altogether six men passed Isaiah and, as
each one did, he expected to be seen. His lungs were bursting from
holding his breath. Slowly he exhaled and then carefully drew in
fresh cool air. Finally no more shapes appeared out of the darkness
but Isaiah remained in the bushes as he tried to calm himself.

Finally Isaiah
felt relaxed enough to move. He was just about to stand up when he
heard stalks of grass breaking nearby. He sank back onto the ground
and waited. The sounds of breaking grass moved slowly closer
accompanied by a strange swishing sound. Isaiah stared at the
ground at his feet, waiting for the approaching man to appear. The
sounds grew louder and suddenly a huge shape emerged out of the
darkness.

Isaiah was so
shocked and surprised by the size of the object that he looked up
in astonishment and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness the shape
turned out to be a black and white cow, unconcernedly grazing on
the grass as it walked. Relief flooded over him and he let out a
short nervous laugh. The cow lifted its head, stared at the man
hiding in the bushes and then went back to grazing. Slowly Isaiah
stood up, picked up his suitcase, and continued on his way to the
Lesotho border.

Finally Isaiah
heard the dull roar of the Caledon River which defines the
north-western border of Lesotho. He hurried on until he felt his
feet sink into the sandy soil at the river's edge. He took off his
shoes, tied the laces together, and hung them around his neck.
Holding his suitcase above his head he waded into the swiftly
flowing water. The water level rose and Isaiah struggled to keep
his balance as he stumbled over the rounded rocks that covered the
river bed. The roar of the rushing water drowned out all other
sounds.

Isaiah felt his
strength begin to drain away as he struggled against the vicious
current. He staggered and almost fell. He knew that if he did fall,
he would likely drown as he had never learnt to swim. He gritted
his teeth and stumbled on. The level of the water slowly began to
drop and finally he felt soft sand under his feet. The current
lessened and finally he reached the far bank of the river. He
clambered up the steep bank and sank down onto the rough grass,
exhausted. In the eastern sky a distinct grey tinge signified the
coming of a new day.

***

CHAPTER 7

Bala Desai had
just finished taking measurements and instructions from a
well-dressed black man who needed a pair of expensive slacks
altered. As the man left the little shop a middle aged white man in
a pale blue safari suit and grey leather shoes entered. In his
right hand he held a brown cardboard folder.

"Good morning,
sir." Bala said, smiling. "How can I be of assistance to you?"

The white man
ignored Bala's greeting and stared at him, a surely expression on
his face. He continued to stare at Bala as he opened the file in
his hand. He glanced down at the documents in the folder and then
looked up.

"Are you Mister
Bala Desai?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm Bala
Desai." the Indian tailor replied.

"My name's
Viljoen from the Department of Community Development." the man
said. "I'm here to tell you that that your enterprise "Desai Family
Tailors" is hereby ordered to vacate these premises and move to the
Oriental Plaza.This is in accordance with the Group Areas Act that
states that this area is reserved for white people and people of
colour are forbidden to live or do business here."

Bala felt the
anger rise in him.

"Firstly, I'm
not a "person of colour!" Bala said angrily. "I was born in this
country. I'm a South African citizen! Secondly…"

"I don't care
where you were born." Viljoen interrupted. "According to the laws
of this country you are classified as a "person of colour" and you
may not do business in this area. The Department and the South
African Police are aware of your defiance of the law. Your presence
at the unlawful demonstration outside our offices several weeks ago
was observed and recorded."

"What if I
refuse to move?" Bala asked his anger rising even further. "The
Oriental Plaza is a failure. Nobody goes there to do their
shopping! My business will collapse if I move it there."

"If you refuse
to move, Mister Desai, you will be moved forcibly." the white man
said. "You won't be the first business to be forcibly moved. As for
the Oriental Plaza being a failure, that's absolute nonsense. The
government has spent sixteen and a half million Rand building the
complex. They wouldn't spend that kind of money if the enterprise
was likely to be a failure."

"Spending a lot
of money on something doesn't make it a success!" Bala said. "I've
heard of a large number of businesses that have moved that are now
in serious financial trouble because the rentals are too high and
not enough people visit the centre to support them."

Viljoen
shrugged his shoulders.

"Mister Desai."
he said. "I haven't come here to argue with you. I'm telling you
that if you don't give my department permission to move your
business to the Oriental Plaza it will be moved forcibly."

"I will not
move!" Bala said angrily. "That's all there is to it! Now please
leave my shop!"

"I'll leave
your shop when I want to." the white man replied insolently. "You
can't order me around. You're a trouble maker and we know how to
deal with your kind. I can promise you that we'll move your
business to the Oriental Plaza with or without your consent."

Viljoen took a
piece of paper out of his folder and tossed it only the glass
counter.

"Here is your
relocation order." he said. "Our men will be here to move your
business in two weeks time and we will not be held responsible for
any damage done to your belongings and equipment, especially if you
refuse to co-operate with us."

The white
official smiled at Bala contemptuously, turned, and walked out of
the shop, leaving the door open.

***

"Bala, my
dearest." Fatima said, her forehead creased with a worried frown.
"This is not like you. Why are you so determined to defy the
government? You have always been so law-abiding."

Bala and Fatima
sat at the kitchen table in their little house in Pageview. Salona
had already gone to bed. It was the evening before the government
was to forcibly move their little tailoring business to the huge,
but virtually unknown, shopping centre known as the Oriental Plaza
in Fordsburg.

"My darling."
Bala said taking his wife's hand in his. "There comes a time in
everyone's life when he or she must make a decision that defines
their beliefs and their sense of justice and challenges them to
prove whether or not they are true to their beliefs. What the
government is doing to us, not only the forceful removal of our
business and our forceful removal of us as a family to Lenasia, but
to all people who are not white, is wrong and all the people
affected must oppose them. If we don't then we are in effect
recognising them and accepting them as being right and then we are
no better than they are."