take me, I only found out much later.
CHAPTER 6
Outside the airport terminal Lwazi stopped for a moment and looked around, trying to find his way. I reckoned he didn’t come there often. But he wasn’t lost. Within seconds he had his wits about him and headed for a parking garage.
‘Aren’t we going to take the Underground?’ I asked.
‘The what?’ frowned André. Simoshile looked questioningly at Lwazi. She didn’t know what I was talking about either. Lwazi shrugged.
‘The train. The underground train.’
‘Oh that!’ said Lwazi. ‘There isn’t one.’
How could it be? I wondered. From the air Johannesburg seemed like such a big and bustling city, surely they would need an underground rail system.
Then Lwazi added, ‘Not at the moment. But they are busy building one right now. They call it the Gautrain. You are now in the province of Gauteng. So, the train would be named after the province.’
‘So people just drive to wherever they want to be?’ I asked.
‘No,’ answered Lwazi. ‘There are trains of course, but they run above ground. And if you have to travel very far, you could catch a plane. Lots of people get around in their cars or in taxis. You will soon see them.’
Lwazi paid at a parking station, and we headed for the car.
I saw Simoshile stealing quick glances in my direction every now and again. Was something wrong? I looked down to make sure my fly was done up. It was. I shook my head. It was probably nothing.
André talked a lot. He spoke English with a strange accent.
‘I’m Afrikaans,’ explained André. ‘It is my home language. But I speak English as well. And a little bit of isiZulu. Not much though, just enough to get me into trouble,’ he grinned.
Three languages! How is that possible?
‘That’s nothing,’ said Simoshile. ‘I speak isiZulu and English. And bits of Afrikaans, isiXhosa and siSwati.’ She too had a strange accent, but it differed from André’s.
‘How many languages do you have in South Africa?’ I asked.
‘Eleven official languages,’ said Simoshile before André could answer.
‘Show off,’ was all he managed to get out.
I only spoke English. How could these people get by with so many languages without getting totally confused? No wonder they all had these strange accents. Come to think of it, my English probably sounded strange to them as well.
We reached the car. It was a 4x4 off-road vehicle with twin cabs. Lwazi packed my suitcases in the back of the vehicle. André and I got in on the backseat. Simoshile jumped in at the front next to Lwazi.
As Lwazi started the vehicle, I felt a tiredness washing over me. There was still a distant fear lingering somewhere within me. Fear of the unknown. But there was also a faint spark of excitement. In the coming days I would learn that this excitement was to burn brightly at times. But there would be other times when it was to fade away completely.
We made our way out of the airport grounds and were immediately caught up in the bustle of Johannesburg’s hectic traffic. They too drove on the left side of the road, like we do in England. Some of the people around us drove like madmen. Huge trucks slowed down the traffic. Most of them kept to the left lanes, while other cars overtook on the right.
I read the road signs. We were on the Pretoria road. All around the highway there were businesses, factories and what Simoshile called ‘townhouse complexes’. This was where people lived in apartments of varying sizes, with the whole complex surrounded by security walls topped with electric fences.
I soon realized that these people were crazy about security. They had security cameras, fences, walls, security guards, burglar-proofing on all windows, security gates, security doors and alarms.
Shocking!
I thought back to the flat windows in London that would be boxed with metal frames and mesh iron when it was left unoccupied. That kept people from breaking in, but what I saw in Johannesburg was
CHAPTER 6
Outside the airport terminal Lwazi stopped for a moment and looked around, trying to find his way. I reckoned he didn’t come there often. But he wasn’t lost. Within seconds he had his wits about him and headed for a parking garage.
‘Aren’t we going to take the Underground?’ I asked.
‘The what?’ frowned André. Simoshile looked questioningly at Lwazi. She didn’t know what I was talking about either. Lwazi shrugged.
‘The train. The underground train.’
‘Oh that!’ said Lwazi. ‘There isn’t one.’
How could it be? I wondered. From the air Johannesburg seemed like such a big and bustling city, surely they would need an underground rail system.
Then Lwazi added, ‘Not at the moment. But they are busy building one right now. They call it the Gautrain. You are now in the province of Gauteng. So, the train would be named after the province.’
‘So people just drive to wherever they want to be?’ I asked.
‘No,’ answered Lwazi. ‘There are trains of course, but they run above ground. And if you have to travel very far, you could catch a plane. Lots of people get around in their cars or in taxis. You will soon see them.’
Lwazi paid at a parking station, and we headed for the car.
I saw Simoshile stealing quick glances in my direction every now and again. Was something wrong? I looked down to make sure my fly was done up. It was. I shook my head. It was probably nothing.
André talked a lot. He spoke English with a strange accent.
‘I’m Afrikaans,’ explained André. ‘It is my home language. But I speak English as well. And a little bit of isiZulu. Not much though, just enough to get me into trouble,’ he grinned.
Three languages! How is that possible?
‘That’s nothing,’ said Simoshile. ‘I speak isiZulu and English. And bits of Afrikaans, isiXhosa and siSwati.’ She too had a strange accent, but it differed from André’s.
‘How many languages do you have in South Africa?’ I asked.
‘Eleven official languages,’ said Simoshile before André could answer.
‘Show off,’ was all he managed to get out.
I only spoke English. How could these people get by with so many languages without getting totally confused? No wonder they all had these strange accents. Come to think of it, my English probably sounded strange to them as well.
We reached the car. It was a 4x4 off-road vehicle with twin cabs. Lwazi packed my suitcases in the back of the vehicle. André and I got in on the backseat. Simoshile jumped in at the front next to Lwazi.
As Lwazi started the vehicle, I felt a tiredness washing over me. There was still a distant fear lingering somewhere within me. Fear of the unknown. But there was also a faint spark of excitement. In the coming days I would learn that this excitement was to burn brightly at times. But there would be other times when it was to fade away completely.
We made our way out of the airport grounds and were immediately caught up in the bustle of Johannesburg’s hectic traffic. They too drove on the left side of the road, like we do in England. Some of the people around us drove like madmen. Huge trucks slowed down the traffic. Most of them kept to the left lanes, while other cars overtook on the right.
I read the road signs. We were on the Pretoria road. All around the highway there were businesses, factories and what Simoshile called ‘townhouse complexes’. This was where people lived in apartments of varying sizes, with the whole complex surrounded by security walls topped with electric fences.
I soon realized that these people were crazy about security. They had security cameras, fences, walls, security guards, burglar-proofing on all windows, security gates, security doors and alarms.
Shocking!
I thought back to the flat windows in London that would be boxed with metal frames and mesh iron when it was left unoccupied. That kept people from breaking in, but what I saw in Johannesburg was
Similar Books
The Reader
Traci Chee
A Bride After All
Kasey Michaels
Utterly Monkey
Nick Laird
The Crayon Papers
Washington Irving
A Shade of Vampire 13: A Turn of Tides
Bella Forrest
The Black Seraphim
Michael Gilbert
Master/slave Relations: Handbook of Theory and Practice
Robert J. Rubel
Falling Harder
W. H. Vega
Seconds Away
Harlan Coben
The Piper's Son
Melina Marchetta