No Turning Back by Beverley Naidoo Read Free Book Online

bag.”
    Sipho saw the anger flash across Jabu’s eyes. For a moment it seemed as if he might hit out at Joseph. But he lashed out with words instead.
    “Hayi, Bra Joseph! It’s you that’s stupid! Iglue is making you sick and you can’t even see. Did you forget about Jeff?”
    Joseph sucked in his cheeks as if he was thinking of what to say. Then, folding his arms, he shifted his gaze upward, as if into space. Heremained silent as Jabu told Sipho about a boy from another gang who had died with his head in a garbage can while looking for something to cool his throat. Word had gone round afterward that Jeff had pneumonia because his lungs were damaged from iglue.
    Jabu spoke so forcefully that it took Sipho by surprise. “If you owe him, give him money, Sipho. Don’t buy iglue yourself. It’s no good!”
    “But it helps me sleep when I’m cold. It makes me think I’m in some nice warm place,” said Sipho.
    “You need a jacket, not iglue, buti. I can take you to Rosebank and you can get enough money to buy one, even today.”
    Sipho hesitated. Jabu’s offer was kind, and it made him think. While most members of the gang were taking the stuff—and Joseph more than any of them—he hadn’t seen either Lucas or Jabu with iglue. It was one thing to sniff a little of your friend’s supply and quite another to go and buy it yourself. But here was Joseph, who had been friendly to him, waiting now for him to do just that and return his favors. Joseph’s face had no expression as he leaned against the shop front, but Sipho knew he was listening.
    “Give him his money and let’s go,” said Jabu.
    It was a test, and Sipho was right in the middle of it. He hated tests. He never knew theright answer. Putting his hand in his pocket, he pulled out all his coins.
    “Take this, buti. I want to check out Rosebank. Will you come?” he said to Joseph.
    Joseph leaned his head back and looked at him coolly. Then he shrugged and put out his hand for the money before turning his back and entering the shop.

8. Rosebank
    R osebank and the suburbs leading to it were another world. Jabu and Sipho walked past houses so large and grand that it was hard to believe that only one family lived in them all by themselves. Surrounded by high walls, most of them could only be glimpsed where there were metal or wrought-iron gates. Twenty or thirty shacks from the township would have fitted into some of the front gardens alone.
    “See that wedding cake!” Jabu pointed to a house with pillars in front of a great door and triangle shapes above all the windows. The windows themselves were covered by curling burglar bars. Water was sprinkling gently in circles on a green lawn almost as smooth as a carpet.
    “Look how much water these people give to their grass!” exclaimed Sipho.
    One of the jobs he used to do for Ma was to line up with the crowds at the tap and carry a large plastic container of water back to the shack. Would Ma now be doing that herself?
    “My aunty worked in a big house like this in Durban,” said Jabu.
    “Were you in Durban?” Sipho was impressed.
    Gogo had told him about the city by the sea, which she had visited as a girl.
    Jabu explained that he had lived with his mother in the hills behind Durban and sometimes they had visited his mother’s sister in the city. But then the killings had started. And the burning. One night they had fled into the bushes and watched flames eat up the houses of their neighbors on the other side of the valley. Those people liked Mandela, said his mother. They wanted him to be the president and carried his picture at their meetings. That was why some men set their houses on fire. He had heard terrible cries, and he didn’t know if they came from people or animals. The smell carried by the wind had made him sick. What had happened to the children from those houses who went to his school? In the morning the green hill opposite was scarred with black patches and burned-out buildings. His