‘You can wait some more. Go to the back.’

‘Look, that’s really not necessary,’ said Lindi. ‘I can wait.’

‘No, these people have to be taught a lesson. They are causing trouble here in South Africa.’ He turned to the man again and barked, ‘Voetsek. Fuck off, man! Okay, madam, you can get your ticket now.’

The soldier rejoined the rest of his group. They were pointing at the man, bent and crumpled under the suitcase he was carrying on his shoulder, and laughing. Lindi heard the murmur behind her. She knew what they were thinking: white skin, straight to the front. Same old story.

At the departure gate, one of the uniformed staff from the coach company called out for those who held reservations. Lindi was the only one. She was escorted through to the bus and given the front seat where there was extra leg-room.

Outside there was a growing commotion. One of the cases had burst open as the bus conductor had flung it into the hold, spilling the contents back out onto the pavement. He shouted at the owner as she and her two children tried to gather up their possessions. Lindi saw the fracas unfolding from her seat. She was struck by what the woman had chosen to cram into her bag, which was all too publicly on display. Lindi felt as if she was peeping. The bulk of it was children’s clothing, and there were some exercise books. One of them lay open, a child’s deliberate handwriting sitting on each line of the ruled paper, the letters lined up, like starlings on a power cable. There was little that seemed to belong to the mother: a bar of soap, some medicines, a saucepan, several packages of dried pasta, and another with salt.

Lindi wondered what the woman had decided to leave behind. There was nothing sentimental here, no photos, no frivolity. It was a survival kit. It reminded Lindi of the radio programme back in Britain that asked famous guests to compile a list of the music they would like to have if they were to be stranded on a desert island. Participants were also allowed to take a luxury. On the last edition she’d listened to, the actress had asked for an endless supply of her favourite scented candles so she could while away the balmy evenings in a mist of lavender or some such. In this suitcase, there was no thought of luxury, just the grinding certainty that making it from one day to the next would be hard enough.