The Colour of Gold (6 page)

“Okay!” the
taxi driver said and quickly hefted the two suitcases into the
trunk of his vehicle. He opened one of the back doors and waved his
two passengers in.

At the hotel
Bogdan and Julia were led to a single room with an adjoining
bathroom. Once they had unpacked their suitcases Bogdan picked up
the telephone receiver and dialled a number.

“Mr. Moore?” he
asked. “It’s Bogdan Vodnik speaking. We have arrived in
Johannesburg and are staying at the Polana Hotel.”

Bogdan listened
to the voice on the other end of the line.

“Okay.” he
said. “We’ll wait for you outside the hotel. Thank you.
Goodbye.”

Bogdan put down
the receiver and turned to Julia who was sitting on the end of the
bed.

“I've just
spoken to the mine manager, Mister Gavin Moore. They’re sending a
car to fetch us at seven tomorrow morning.” he said. “We’re on our
way again. Now, let's find something to eat. I'm starving!"

***

Isaiah was the
last passenger to leave the bus. He stepped down onto the pavement
and stared at the towering buildings that surrounded him. He was
surprised at how unconcerned he was about being in an environment
that was so different from the one that he had come from. He had
expected to be frightened and uncertain but now that he was here he
felt strangely confident that he could cope. If thousands and
thousands of others from similar backgrounds to his could succeed
here then so could he. What he had to do was learn, and learn
quickly. Mistakes would be time-consuming and costly. And the only
way to learn was to ask questions. If you didn’t know, ask. Don’t
ever pretend to know, he warned himself.

The small
Indian family was standing nearby looking about them uncertainly.
Isaiah walked away, his blanket draped over his shoulders. It was a
lot cooler here on the Reef than he was used to. He saw a small
black boy washing a car at the side of the street.

“Hello.” Isaiah
greeted the youngster. “I’ve just arrived from Natal. I’m going to
look for work on the mines. Where can I stay tonight?”

“Have you got a
pass to be in Jo’burg?” the boy asked.

“No. I'll get
one when I get a job on one of the mines.” Isaiah replied.

“Well, you’d
better be careful not to get caught by the police before you get
work on the mines.” the boy said. “Without a pass or mine
employment they’ll put in jail and then send you back to where you
came from. What you should do is find an alley to sleep in tonight
and then go to the mine recruiting office tomorrow morning early
and apply for work. If they give you work they’ll also arrange a
pass for you.”

“Thanks.”
Isaiah said and patted the small boy on the back before walking
away looking for a café where he could buy something to eat.

After he had
finished his meal of porridge and chicken-feet stew while sitting
on the pavement beneath a streetlamp, Isaiah began to search for a
place to sleep. Eventually he came to an alley between two office
buildings. Warily he entered the dark lane, stepping around the
discarded boxes and papers that littered the ground. Isaiah’s heart
leapt as a small, dark shaped rushed towards him and then streaked
past him. At the entrance to the alley the black cat stopped and
glared back at him before slinking away next to the wall of the
building.

At the end of
the alley was a locked wooden gate and piled up next to it were
several large cardboard boxes. Working mainly by feel, Isaiah
flattened two of the boxes and placed them on the ground and lay
down on top of them. He was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable
a mattress they made. He flattened a small box to use as a pillow
and tucked it under his head. He pulled his blanket over his body
and relaxed, staring upwards, the walls of the buildings on each
side of him soaring up to the dark grey sky. He yawned and closed
his eyes. Soon he was fast asleep, snoring softly.

Silently the
black cat returned to the entrance to the alley and stared at the
sleeping man, its tail twitching, peeved at having lost its regular
stamping ground to something that just wanted to sleep.

The following
morning, after eating a meal of porridge and stew while sitting on
the pavement, Isaiah noticed that the young boy he’d spoken to the
previous day was now selling newspapers to people hurrying to work.
It suddenly struck him that there appeared to be many opportunities
for work in the city. He waited until the boy had sold his stock of
newspapers before approaching him.

“Before I go to
seek work on the mines,” Isaiah said to the boy who was sitting on
the curb counting his takings, “are there many work opportunities
here in the city?”

The boy
pocketed his money and stood up.

“Yes there are
but there’s always the danger of being arrested by the police for
not having a pass.” he said. “You won’t be able to get a permanent
job if you don’t have a pass though, but there are many young men
in the city who manage on temporary jobs like packing and unpacking
trucks, washing cars and some even work as gardeners.”

“Where should I
start looking for work?” Isaiah asked.

“Everybody who
comes to Jo’burg goes straight to Hillbrow.” the boy replied. “You
see that big tower? That’s in the middle of Hillbrow. When you get
there just ask around and you’ll soon find someone to help
you.”

Isaiah thanked
the boy and began walking towards the distant tower.

***

Bala Desai
placed the suitcase on the pavement. Fatima stood close to him,
almost as if seeking protection from the unfamiliar surroundings.
Salona stood in front of her mother, her thumb in her mouth and her
eyes wide with wonder mixed with uncertainty.

“We must find
out how to get to Pageview.” Bala said. “I hope it’s not too far
from here."

"Ask that boy
washing the car." Fatima suggested. "I saw that Zulu man who was in
the bus with us ask him for directions.”

Bala nodded and
walked over to the boy.

"Excuse me.” he
said. “Please can you direct me to Pageview?”

The boy
straightened from wiping a hubcap and pointed in a westerly
direction, his cleaning cloth dangling from his hand.

“Go down Rissik
Street until you get to Bree Street.” the boy said. “Turn right and
go about three kays. You can’t miss it. It’s the suburb just after
you cross the railway line"

“Kays?” Bala
asked.

“Kilometres.”
the boy said surprised at such ignorance.

“Oh, thank
you.” Bala said.

Bala returned
to Fatima and Salona.

“Pageview is
only about three kays from here.” he said. “Apparently a “kay” is a
kilometer. We can easily get there before dark.”

The little man
picked up the heavy suitcase.

“We have to go
down that street, I think the boy said it was Rissik street, and
then into Bree street.” he said.

Bala turned to
Fatima and smiled bravely.

“Come along, my
dearest,” he said, “We’ve managed the first step. Let’s hope that
the next one is just as easy.”

The family
trudged slowly along the pavement until they reached Bree Street
where they turned westward towards the setting sun. The traffic was
still fairly heavy and there were a great many pedestrians who
hurried past the slower trio occasionally bumping the suitcase in
Bala’s hand. Each time this happened the Indian apologized
profusely but nobody took any notice of him. They simply hurried
on. Every now and then Bala stopped to rest and flex the fingers of
the hand gripping the heavy case. Fatima walked patiently, slightly
behind him and carrying Salona on her hip. The setting sun was
blinding and the two females shielded their eyes with their hands.
Bala stared at the pavement in front of him.

“How will we
know when we have reached Pageview?” Fatima asked.

“The boy said
it was the suburb after we cross the bridge over the railway line.”
Bala said.

The pedestrians
and the traffic thinned noticeably and eventually, just as the sun
slipped below the horizon the three wanderers walked into the dingy
suburb of Pageview. The tiny brick and corrugated iron houses were
packed tightly together and were so close to the pavement that one
could step from the uneven sidewalk straight onto the front
verandas of the small hovels.

The little
family wandered through the miserable suburb until they found
Bala’s uncle’s house. The lawyer had instructed Bala to ask the
neighbour who lived in the house on the left side for the keys.

To Bala’s
dismay the house was in darkness and there was no response when he
knocked on the blue painted door.

“We’ll just
have to wait until he returns, my dear.” Bala said shrugging his
thin shoulders.

Just then a
short, stocky Indian man came out of the next house. He looked
inquiringly at Bala.

“We’re the new
owners of number twenty one.” Bala explained. “We’ve just arrived
from Durban and we were told to get the keys from the owner of
house number twenty three.”

“You’re the
late Mister Dinat’s nephew?” the man asked.

Bala nodded and
the man walked closer, extending his hand.

“I’m Dajee
Dhupelia.” he said “Mister Dinat was a wonderful man and a good
friend of mine. We all miss him terribly. Come into my house. I
live alone. You can wait for Mister Cajee there. He works for the
railways and he usually only gets home at about ten o’clock.”

“We don’t want
to be a nuisance.” Bala said. “We can wait out here.”

“Most
definitely not!” Mister Dhupelia said. “I insist that you accept my
invitation. No family of my good friend Mister Desai will wait
outside my house. Please come in.”

Bala lowered
his head in gratitude and the three newcomers followed their host
into his little house.

After mister
Dhupelia had settled his three guests in his tiny front room and
brought them mugs of hot, sugared tea, he turned to Bala.

“Have you been
told that Pageview has been declared a white area under the Group
Areas Act and that we Indians will all eventually have to leave
here and go and live in the new Indian suburb called Lenasia which
is about thirty kilometres from here and also move our businesses
to the new Oriental Plaza?” he asked. “Most of our people have
already been moved there.”

Bala’s heart
sank. Had he given up his job in Durban and come all the way up to
Johannesburg just to find that the government was taking away his
inheritance – his hope for a new and brighter future?

“N-no.” he
stammered.

“In 1950 the
government declared Pageview a “whites only” area even though we
Indians have been living happily with our white neighbours for many
years.” Mister Dhupelia said. “We have been ordered to move to the
new Indian suburb of Lenasia which is just south of Soweto. There
are no proper facilities such as electricity there yet and so we
are fighting the government to allow us to stay here. We know that
we can’t win in the long run but so far some of us have been able
to resist and stay here. The houses in this street are the last few
houses in Pageview still occupied by Indians. It's just a matter of
time before we are forcibly moved.”

“Does that mean
that we will lose everything?” Bala asked.

“No.” Mister
Dhupelia replied. “The government has assured us that we will be
compensated but we don’t trust them. This Lenasia is very far from
where we all work and building a new house will be very expensive
and difficult. We’re all determined to stay here for as long as we
can and only move once we know that we have been adequately
compensated, if that is possible.”

Mister Dhupelia
looked up as a shadowy figure past the front window.

“Ah! Here is
your neighbour Mister Cajee now.” he exclaimed.

He hurried to
the front door, opened it and called to his neighbour.

“Mister Cajee!
Mister Dinat’s nephew has arrived from Durban!”

Mister Cajee
was a tall, thin man who wore a red fez and had a full, grey beard
in the manner of orthodox believers. He surveyed the three
newcomers with sad, brown eyes. His bushy eyebrows rose in a look
of surprise.

“Such young
people.” he said in a deep voice. “I don’t know why, but I was
expecting someone older. Welcome though, to Jo’burg and to
Pageview. I hope that you will find happiness here and that we will
all become good friends.”

Bala stood up
and shook hands with Mister Cajee who towered above him. He
introduced Fatima and Salona.

Fatima rose
from her seat and everyone looked at Salona expectantly but she was
fast asleep, tucked into the corner of the settee, her empty mug
resting in her lap with her rag doll.

Mister Cajee
smiled.

“It’s very late
and you must all be very tired after your long journey.” he said.
“Come with me and I’ll give you the keys to your house.”

Fatima
carefully picked up the sleeping child and the group left the
house. Mister Cajee hurried into his house and returned with a
bunch of keys which he handed to Bala.

Trembling with
trepidation Bala unlocked the old blue-painted, wooden door and the
little family entered their new home.

CHAPTER 4

The car stopped
in front of the administration building. It was a single storey
cream-coloured structure with a wide glass-fronted entrance and
scalloped white gables on each side. The wooden window and door
frames were painted white and a neat garden of brightly coloured
flowers stretched from the entrance along the front of the building
on both sides. A black gardener attended to the flowers, his tools
and a green garden house lying on the smooth lawn next to him.
Drops of water on the leaves and blooms sparkled in the early
morning sunshine.

The black
driver got out of the car and opened the back door. Bogdan stepped
out of the car while Julia waited, sitting in the front passenger’s
seat. The low hum of the powerful electric motors that drove the
huge hoists and air extractor fans that carried the miners up and
down the mine shafts and kept the shafts adequately ventilated
filled the air. Men in heavy, dirty overalls and wearing white
hardhats with lights glowing on them walked along the street in
small groups. The whole area was extremely neat and tidy.