shrugged. Street kids disappeared all the time. It was no big deal.
“Hope he isn’t hanging around with some gang again,” Vuyo said.
Thabo frowned.
He knew that Mlibo did not always choose his friends wisely and had twice turned up at the shelter after having been beaten up by a gang.
He sighed.
He had done his best for the boy, but Mlibo had got used to being on the streets and did not want to change.
Thabo got to his feet and headed for the front door. “Well, watch out for him, will you? Let’s get something to drink. I’m parched.”
The boys scrambled to their feet and followed Thabo into the hallway. They made their way down the corridor past the front rooms full of iron bunk beds, past Miss Collette’s small office, and into the kitchen.
“Lunch isn’t ready yet! Get out of my kitchen!” Mrs Misengana ordered good-naturedly.
She carried on spreading thick layers of peanut butter onto the slices of bread on the table.
Tembile licked his lips. He was very hungry.
“We just need some water to drink,” Thabo grinned. He knew that Mrs Misengana had a heart of gold and looked after the boys as if they were her own.
“And rinse out your mugs!” Mrs Misengana reminded them. She wiped her forehead with the back of a tired hand.
Tembile sidled up to the table and eyed the bread. “Need any help?”
“No thanks.” Mrs Misengana was firm. “Off you go! I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
Tembile reluctantly moved away from the table. He would have loved to pinch a slice, but Mrs Misengana operated with an iron rod. Beware any boy who stole from her kitchen!
“Let’s go check what time the match starts,” Thabo urged.
The boys finished their water, dutifully rinsed their mugs and followed Thabo into his small office, which also served as his bedroom and the TV room. The lounge had long ago been cleared to make space for more bunk beds as more kids had come in off the streets.
“Kick off’s at two!” Tembile pointed at the announcement on the sport page.
Post reading
| 1. | What clue is there that Mlibo is doing something wrong? |
| 2. | Why did Mlibo get in trouble in Umtata? |
| 3. | Who is Thabo and what is his relationship to the boys? |
| 4. | What are the backgrounds of Thabo and the other boys? |
| 5. | What makes Mrs Misengana the right person to be running the kitchen? |
| 6. | How do the boys make extra money? |
| 7. | What did they do in the past to get money? |
| 8. | What does the shelter provide for them? |
| 9. | The shelter has a caring and homely atmosphere. How do we know this? |
— Chapter 2 —
Pre-reading
| 1. | Think about gangs and gangsters. Why do new members have to prove themselves before they are accepted? |
| During reading | |
| 2. | Mlibo behaves in a secretive way. Notice these details. |
Mlibo eased himself forward across musty piles of sacking and crumpled newspapers into the pitch darkness of the hole. The air was chilly in here and he shivered. A sudden scuffle to his right made him freeze in horror.
Rats! Canal rats were enormous! He shuddered to think that Sizwe and the boys had actually slept here. Carefully his fingers searched for the ledge at the back on which he had placed the parcel that Lynch had given him to hide.
Mlibo cringed. What if he touched a rat! Would it bite him? Next time Lynch gave him a parcel, he would place it near the entrance!
The boy quickly ran towards the opening and eased himself through the crack and out into the bright sunshine. Before jumping down to the canal floor, he dragged the piece of cardboard back across the entrance to the hole. He did not want his hiding place in the wall to be discovered. Then he jumped down and hurried back towards the car park.
The pretty young flower vendor set up her beautiful display on the broad pavement at the corner near the traffic lights. In spite of the shade spreading from the shop buildings, it was still very hot.
She arranged the wilting bunches to their best advantage in the buckets, but it was obvious that her whole attention was not on the flower display. Now and again, she pushed back her long, straight black hair and her dark eyes keenly raked over the passers-by as if she was looking for someone. Mlibo walked up to the lamppost at the entrance to the car park and stood waiting in the sizzling sun. Lynch, the leader of The Devils, had told him to be there with the parcel at exactly one o’clock.
In the past few weeks Mlibo had been working for him. Lynch wanted Mlibo to prove himself to the gang before he could become a member. He would give the boy a small parcel tightly wrapped in brown paper and tell him to hide it in a safe place and then wait for further instructions.
Some time later, Mlibo was told to take the parcel to a particular address. It was easy money; he could buy bread and chips and as many cigarettes as he wanted.
Mlibo did not dare ask questions, and why should he? He was happy. He didn’t have to work so hard. The gang seemed to accept him and that was what counted.
The flower vendor gave him a sideways glance and checked the passers-by to see if anyone was watching them. The sun blazed mercilessly down on Mlibo’s bare head but he dared not move into the shade. He mopped his brow with the palm of his hand and licked his parched lips as he scanned the road for the person he was supposed to meet.
The flower vendor checked around once more before she crossed the car park entrance lane and strolled towards him.
“Mlibo?” Her voice was cold and expressionless.
“Yeah.”
“Go to this address.” She handed him a piece of paper.
Mlibo sighed and his heart sank. He couldn’t read! His hands trembled as he gazed at the squiggles on the paper. Thabo had tried to get him to go to his special school to learn to read, but he could not be bothered with all that rubbish.
Mlibo looked hopefully up at the young lady, but she had already turned away and was heading back towards her flowers. Damn! How could he find out what was written there?
Lynch had told him to speak to no one but he had to find out what the note said or he would be in big trouble! Who could he ask?
Fleetingly, he thought of Thabo and the boys at the shelter. No. He couldn’t ask them. Thabo had connections with the police.
Mlibo made up his mind. He would ask Louis du Toit, the guy who bought old newspapers and cardboard from the street kids. Mlibo set off rapidly. His eyes scanned the car park for signs of Sizwe, Tembile, Victor and Vuyo who had been his close friends when he had stayed at the shelter. Thankfully, they were nowhere in sight.
Post reading
