A flashlight beam swept beneath the tables.Straight toward me.
“Let's go, there's no one here,” one of the policemen abruptly said.
There was a moment of silence. I held my breath.
Then the footsteps faded away. Darkness returned. I trembled with fear.
For the first time since crossing the Limpopo River, I yearned for home. Home was a place of safety and family. When trouble came, you could reach out to those who cared about you.
I thought about my folly in leaving. Determined not to fall asleep, I lay down for a moment.
The next thing I knew, I was awake.
A faint light of dawn covered the sky.
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It was bitterly cold. Only later did I realise that it was not the tarpaulin that had protected me from the cold. It was the deep, dreamless sleep that had swallowed me whole.
I did not want the market women to find me there, especially the woman who had given me food the previous night. All the same, I waited. The streets were still deserted.
As I looked around, I realised that the taxi rank was the safest place available to me. I was terrified of running into the police or immigration officers.
An hour later, cars and people were moving in every direction. The city was waking up.
Pulling my hood over my face, I stepped out of the taxi rank and headed for Home Affairs.
The asylum papers could give me some freedom, but they were not the solution. I still needed work. I still needed a place to stay. When I arrived at the Home Affairs offices, I was surprised to find that a long queue had already formed.
A fire made from cardboard boxes burned a few metres away. Several people crowded around it for warmth.
I was tempted to join them but thought better of it. Thick smoke rose from the fire. I coughed and took my place in the queue.
I avoided looking into people's eyes.
Most of those waiting were my countrymen. Home Affairs would only open in another two hours. Someone moved along the queue handing out numbers written on small pieces of paper. More asylum seekers arrived and joined the growing line behind me.
That was when I noticed him.
A few metres ahead stood a man in a brown overcoat and a beanie hat pulled low over his face. Only his eyes were visible. He kept looking at me. Then looking away. Then looking at me again.
I had decided to avoid making connections. Tawanda's arrest had taught me a painful lesson. Trusting people could be dangerous.
The man leaned toward someone beside him and whispered something.
My stomach tightened. A moment later he stepped out of the queue.
And started walking towards me.
I looked down at the ground. My heart began to race. The man stopped beside me. A hand landed on my shoulder.
I jumped sideways, nearly colliding with the person behind me.
"It's me." The voice was familiar.
The man pulled back his beanie. It was Fatso. I will never forget that moment.
The last time I had seen him was at the Limpopo River crossing. Since then I had feared the worst.
For a few seconds I could not speak.
When all hope seemed lost, I had found my friend. We embraced in a bear hug. A tear rolled down my cheek.
People in the queue stared at us suspiciously.
“I thought I had lost you for good,” I finally said. “I was worried about you too,” Fatso replied. “I thought something had happened to you.”
“To be honest, I was afraid the Limpopo River had swallowed you.”
We laughed.
For the first time in days, I felt warmth that had nothing to do with the weather.
“I last saw you at the crossing trying to help that woman with the baby,” Fatso said. He was talking about Sekai.
For a moment my thoughts drifted to her. What had happened to her?
Fatso must have noticed the change in my face.
“Is there anything wrong?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“No. First tell me what happened to you after the crossing.”\Fatso smiled grimly.
“I suffered. I really suffered.”
“You can't be serious. I don't think you suffered the way I did. Since crossing the river it's been one misfortune after another. You're the only good thing that has happened to me.”
Fatso laughed.
Then his expression changed.
“Before I forget,” he said. “The woman you helped. What was her name again?”
“Sekai.”
“I saw her in town yesterday.”
My heart skipped a beat.
For a moment the noise of the queue disappeared.
I had spent days trying to forget Sekai.
Now, suddenly, she was no longer a memory. She was here. Somewhere in Musina.
*Onie Ndoro, For Feedback: X@Onie90396982/[email protected]
