Sitshengisiwe had walked in this unfamiliar township long enough to have grown accustomed to seeing faces she did not know, so when a car hooted and she turned and saw someone whose face was familiar, she was momentarily taken aback. What was he doing here? He asked her the same question. She told him that a friend had dropped her off and she was making her way home. He did not tell her what he was doing there. There was still quite some distance to go before she arrived home, he said, opening the passenger door and inviting her in.

Now, Sitshengisiwe certainly understood the danger of getting into the car of a man you did not know very well. Another man, and she probably would not have got into the car. But this man … this man she knew. Perhaps she did not know him very well, but she knew him well enough. Even so, she did not immediately get into the car, but hesitated, wondering what Philemon would think when he saw her alighting from such a car.

The man, understanding her hesitation, reminded her that in order to get home she would have to go through an area of bush where all manner of things were said to happen at night. After that, Sitshengisiwe did not need any further convincing. She got into the car, fastened the seat belt, and thus ensured her safety. Once she got home, she would find a way to convince Philemon that he had nothing to worry about – that the lift had been a kind gesture and nothing more. The man smiled at her, and she smiled at him, feeling comfortable and secure. He would have her home in no time, he promised.

After a short while, the man said he knew a shortcut and turned into a section of the township that was still under construction. She believed him. She felt so safe that she did not think she had anything to fear as they drove down a dusty and dark road. She only realised she did not know the man as well as she thought she did when he stopped the car without warning, and she felt the sharp, cold steel blade of a knife at her throat.

Philemon

PHILEMON

They say one should not sleep with anger, but that just goes to show how much ‘they’ know. When Philemon had gone to sleep the night before, he had been a tightly coiled ball that would only unfurl itself as rage once Sitshengisiwe got home. He had been sure that he would have a restless night, but when he woke up in the morning, he felt more refreshed than ever. This was most unfortunate, because he had wanted Sitshengisiwe to come in and find him sleeping in some twisted and tormented position that would make her feel sorry for having neglected him.