THE school gate was locked and everybody was milling outside. This is the situation that prevailed at our school when the first term began on January 13, 2009. My first thought was that our teachers had gone on strike because a few weeks back teachers’ unions had threatened to call a nation-wide strike if the government did not increase teachers’ salaries. I was sure as I approached the school gate that the unions had decided to go ahead with the strike.

These thoughts were racing through my mind when a police truck screeched to a halt by the school gate.

Two police officers jumped out of the truck. One of them was a woman. She told everyone to come closer to the police truck. After she had greeted the gathering she said: “I am sorry to inform you that Mr Lunge the caretaker of your school, died at Mpilo Hospital this morning. He was attacked by armed burglars who raided the school last night.”

Silence reigned for a few minutes and then the police officer went on: “After assaulting Mr Lunge, the burglars broke into the administration block where they stole R25 000 and 10 computers which we have been informed were donated by the government.

“As the burglars were carrying the computers to a car that was parked near the school gate they were spotted by police officers on patrol in the area. There was an exchange of gunfire and one of the burglars was shot dead. The rest of the gang escaped. . .”

I did not hear the rest of what was said because at that moment my thoughts strayed back to the events of the previous night. The sound of gunfire had brought me awake all of a sudden.

I rolled off the bed and switched the light on. As I did so I heard a spine chilling scream. A door was slammed shut, a car engine roared into life and sped away with a rapid change of gears.

My heart pounded with fear, its quick beats echoing loudly in my ears. I was alone in the house. My parents had gone to Nkulumane for a church meeting.

Pontius my elder brother had gone to Masina Cocktail Bar to drink beer with his friends.

“Now listen carefully to this!” These words were uttered by the male police officer. The words brought my wandering thoughts back to the present. The officer cleared his throat and said: “We believe the burglars who raided your school last night live here in Luveve suburb. If we can establish the identity of the dead burglar I am sure we shall be able to arrest the rest of the gang.

“We are therefore asking you to view the body of the dead buglar. If any one of you recognizes him or knows where he lives, please be free to convey this information to us. All the information that you give us will be treated as confidential,” the officer said.

The two police officers removed a wooden coffin from the back of the truck and lowered it to the ground. The lid of the coffin was removed and the body viewing began. I began to shake like a reed caught up in a torrent as I joined the procession.

However, when it was my turn to view the body my fear vanished like morning dew.

I bent down to look into the coffin and blood seemed to freeze in my veins. My heart momentarily stopped and then raced wildly. I blinked twice to make sure my eyes were not deceiving me.

For the man who lay in the coffin with a blood-soaked bandage around his head was none other than Pontius, my elder brother.

Cover To Cover is an anual short story writing competition.

Shuvai F Mavheko (14)

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