Previously... In Lamu, the appearance of a large snake had made Natasha’s blood run cold... Nigel raced round the side of the hut to where Natasha was yelling from. He froze when he saw Natasha in her bikini, pale with fear. Less than a metre was, dangling from a branch, was a long snake. His heart leapt into his throat. “Stay right there,” he said in a low voice. He then darted to the barbeque area out front, where he retrieved a long fork. He ventured back to where Natasha was standing still as a statue. “Oh my God,” she murmured, frightened out of her wits. Centimetre by centimetre, Nigel edged toward the snake, holding the braai fork ready. He planned to scoop the creature out the way and throw it. What took fifteen second felt like an hour to him and Natasha. Every inch he came closer, he had to make sure the snake didn’t notice him and react. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. “Be still, babe – be very still,” he urged, his eyes intensely focussed. He had it. He’d managed to get the snake in the crook of the braai fork. Natasha wanted to scream, but held her breath. All that could be heard was the crickets chirping, and her and Nigel’s intense breathing. Nigel was backing away from the shower slowly, walking backwards, when he stumbled. The heel of his shoe had caught a wiry root emerging from the ground. He fell back, onto a patch of dry grass. Thrown, and frightened, the snake lashed toward him, perceiving an attack. It whipped at him, snagging its teeth deeply into the flesh of his wrist. One bite, and a stab of pain went all the way up to his arm like a lightning bolt. He cried out in pain, before flinging the creature into the bushes. Natasha screamed. Her piercing scream rang out through the forest. She ran over to him. He sat up with one arm, looking at his arm, where a nasty, poisonous mark was forming. “Call Mala,” said Nigel faintly, and Natasha ran inside to use the phone. Meanwhile… When Flo came home from class, she found Blessing at the kitchen table using her laptop. Bless seemed apologetic over using it, and closed the laptop lid when she saw her niece. “I’m sorry for using it, sweetie – I know it’s not mine.” Florence came behind Blessing and gave her a hug on the shoulders. “What’s mine is yours, Aunt Blessing, you know that. You’re welcome to use my laptop when I’m not using it.” Blessing had been surfing the Internet. It was a funny thing for Florence to think of - Blessing on the Internet. Flo and all her friends were pro’s at being online – but the older generation weren’t always as good at it. “What are you looking at?” asked Florence, coming to stand behind her aunt so that she could see the screen. She saw that Blessing had a page from Gumtree open, and was looking at appliances. “Appliances?” she asked. She sat and poured herself a glass of water from a jug that was on the table. “Washing machines,” said Blessing, still slightly protective of her idea. “Washing machines?” Flo repeated. “Yep,” said Blessing proudly. “I want to open a laundry.” Flo’s eyebrows went up. “I know you’re surprised. But don’t worry. I’m not going to make any hectic financial gambles, and put us at risk. It’s just something I’m researching.” Flo thought for a second. “Auntie…you know what? It’s actually a very good idea.” Blessing’s face lit up. “You think so?” “I do. Think about all the places that are never empty – phone shop, fast-food shop, barber and hairstylists, laundries. Those are services which people need, night and day, year in and year out.” “Supply and demand,” said Blessing, echoing something she’d seen in one of Flo’s textbooks. “Exactly,” said Flo, pleased. “So what are you planning?” “I’m taking it slowly. It’s just an idea at the moment. I’m looking at prices of machines first. I think you need at least four to make it viable.” “You’d also need someone to work in the shop,” observed Florence. “I think I’d do that myself to start with, just to see how much assistance is actually needed before I even think about hiring.” “Start small,” said Flo. “That’s wise. Aunt…I’m excited about this. I’m happy for you. This is actually…awesome.” She got up and went over to her aunt, and gave her an enormous hug. Meanwhile… Shreya and Takunda were at her flat. They were watching the television, transfixed. Race riots. America was up in arms about police brutality against innocent black civilians – the black communities all over America were protesting. There was a dark mood in the air all over the country. Tempers were flaring on all sides. Shreya and Takunda watched in horror as they saw police opening fire on groups of angry protestors, of people shoved into police vans with violence and anger, of police pummelling protesters with batons. It looked similar to the photos of South Africa in the seventies and eighties – an air of violence, of hostility, of despair. They held hands as they watched the horrible saga develop on CNN news. Takunda’s phone rang on the kitchen counter. He left Shreya on the couch and went to answer it. Shreya’s eyes were glued to the screen. She saw a young black boy crying after his parents had been taken away by police officials. Behind him, a shop burning, grey smoke billowing into the sky. It was all so horrible, and affected Shreya deeply. Takunda came back into the living room. “That was Tyrone. He wants me to meet him. Him and Steven.” Tyrone was a friend of Takunda’s from NYC, a very politically active young black man. Steve was a friend of Tyrone’s, and something of an activist. Shreya looked at him blankly. “Where?” she asked. “Times Square. There’s a demonstration.” Shreya couldn’t believe her ears. “That?” she said, pointing at the TV. “You’re telling me you’re going out to go into that? Takunda, sorry, but no.” “I’ll be careful.” “Takunda, don’t be like this. It’s so dangerous. Can’t you see what’s happening? The violence…it’s not safe, Takunda.” Takunda was torn. He felt strongly for the cause of civil rights. He felt solidarity with his black brothers, even though they were from different continents. He knew it was a cause that affected him, personally. “Babe, I have to,” he said. “T, these aren’t your people. This is America, babe. Not SA or Zimbabwe.” “That’s where you’re wrong, Shrey. All black people in the world are my people.” “Takunda, don’t go. Please.” Takunda exhaled deeply at what he was about to do. Coming Soon Does Takunda venture out into the chaos to meet his friends?
Posted on: Wed, 10 Dec 2014 08:06:02 +0000
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