I began walking among the beds, peering at the oddly still faces of the poor souls trapped here, desperate for the sight of her streak of white hair. If I wanted any of these people to follow me, to trust me, I needed to find the Leopard Lady first. ‘Sisi wami kunjani,’ How are you my sister, I whispered and the thing in the cage awakened and began to throw itself from side to side before holding out an imploring hand to me. Good God, it was a child: the Leopard Lady’s son. The Zulu must have been a burst of familiarity and hope to him. I ran to him but when I knelt before the cage he retreated, his brown eyes wary. He was clothed in a grubby nightshirt but from what I could see there were no patches on his skin, which was the same light brown as my own. I reached through the bars of the cage, hoping he’d realise he could trust me and wishing I knew the Zulu word for ‘friend’.

He came a little closer and I guessed he was three or maybe four years old, but it was hard to tell when the size of the cage made it impossible for him to stand. Other than the sores from the rope at his wrists, there were no signs that he’d been harmed. Not on the outside at least.

‘I’ll get you out of here,’ I said, knowing he wouldn’t understand but hoping he’d take strength from the fervour in my voice. There must be keys, a wrench, something that would allow me to free him.

Knowing that help was close, the child wailed all the louder. I had to get him out, but I couldn’t do it alone. None of the bundles in the bunks around me stirred. Gathering my courage, I shook one by the shoulder and jumped when the man rolled over, his arm dangling into space. His breathing was even and, at last, I recognised the sweetness. He’d been given opium. They all had.

‘Wake up,’ I shouted. ‘Please wake up.’

One of the bundles stirred and sat up. The bedclothes fell away from her. It was the Leopard Lady.

‘Sisi, Sister, I came here for you,’ I said.

I pointed to the cage.

‘I came here to free you, to free your son.’