The Colour of Gold by Oliver T Spedding Read Free Book Online

pavement, his dark blue
knapsack slung over his left shoulder. He watched curiously as the
white man in the grey safari suit walked briskly away. Something
about the man made Shadow feel uncomfortable. He man hadn’t spoken
to a single person during the entire trip but had constantly
monitored the passengers on the bus in a very surreptitious way. He
had also shifted constantly in his seat as if there was something
uncomfortable that he was leaning against. Then it struck Shadow
that the man was very possibly a plainclothes policeman with a gun
in the small of his back that would make sitting for a long period
of time very uncomfortable. Also, the way he had kept watching the
other passengers, indicated someone who had been trained to do so.
Shadow regretted that he hadn’t got a good look at the man’s face
but he knew that he would recognize the man by his physique and
mannerisms if he ever saw him again.
    With a small
shrug of his shoulders Shadow walked into the station building
through the “non white” entrance and bought a ticket to Phefeni
station in Soweto. He struggled down the stairway to the station
platform. The majority of the black workers who lived in Soweto but
worked in Johannesburg had already been moved out of the city
centre by a constant stream of dirty brown trains so that the
platform was almost deserted. An ugly brown train, its huge
spotlight above the driver’s cabin sending out a shaft of dusty
light, hissed into the station and screeched to a stop, filling the
air with the smell of hot steel. People climbed off while others
boarded. Shadow struggled into a compartment and took a seat at a
window. Doors slammed, a whistle shrieked and the long, brown
monster slid into the darkness.
    The train
rushed through the shadowy industrial areas of the city and then
through the dark, tree-filled buffer zone that separated it from
its black neighbour. The dreary, smoke-filled township of Soweto
rolled into view. Shadow stared at the endless rows of tiny houses
lit from above by towering yellow floodlights, the only gadgets,
apart from the government installations and offices that were
powered by electricity in the entire area.
    At Phefeni
station Shadow limped along the platform and out through the wire
gateway manned by a black South African Railway’s policeman. He
limped along the rutted dirt road, stumbling in the darkness until
he reached a small, dirty house with a faint light illuminating the
small, curtained windows. He edged up to the unpainted, wooden door
and knocked softly on the rough surface three times. He waited for
five seconds and knocked again, twice this time. Again he waited
five seconds and then knocked four times. Slowly the door creaked
open and a black face peered through the gap. Then the door opened
wide and Shadow entered the dimly lit house.
    “Greetings,
comrade.” a dark shape said from one of the chairs in the room.
“We’re so glad that you have arrived. There is much important work
to be done!”
    Several shadowy
figures appeared and Shadow shook hands with them.
    “Come into the
kitchen.” one man said. “We have some food and drink for you. Then
you must rest. You’ve had a long day, no doubt. Tomorrow we will
begin to plan the strike that will bring us closer to our
freedom!"
    Shadow's
discussion with his fellow Umkhonto comrades lasted for several
hours and it was close to midnight by the time he left. Fully aware
of the danger from the gangs of child psychopaths who roamed the
streets of Soweto at night, killing or maiming anything that moved,
he slipped carefully through the darkness until he reached number
132 Malewa Street, Orlando East, the tiny brick shack that the
A.N.C. had had arranged for him to stay in while he was in Soweto.
Carefully he opened the door and entered the tiny dark structure.
He closed and locked the door, took out his cheap plastic cigarette
lighter and flicked it.
    The shack was
about the size of a single garage with a wooden