As a businessman with fingers in many business pies, Cedric hired a team of cyber-nerd techies, under the pretence of starting a new internet business. The team was so tightly wrapped in legal tape, thanks to Anathi’s brilliant contract, that they’d rather die than tell someone what they were really doing for him.

A loud ping shattered his thoughts. It was the mobile phone he used to communicate with William. He obtained the number and phone (by less than legal means) to ensure that there was no connection between him and William. He couldn’t take any chances at any point in this engagement.

Cedric unlocked the drawer in his desk and took the phone out.

“I think we’re set to run the scheme next week. I’ve found the right coin to start buying. It’s been making slow progress and is linked to a good story. It’s perfect for what we want to do”

He read the text and, even with the air conditioning on full blast, he could feel droplets of sweat starting to trickle down the side of his face. He wiped his hand across his face and tapped out his response:

“Done, we are ready. How are you getting out, William?“

Cedric watched as the message went through and was read. “Chat soon. Timing the dump is going to be critical. Keep your phone on you“

‘Damnit!’ shouted Cedric to his empty office. This was the second time William had ignored his question. How was he going to get that boy to safety? Cedric decided it would be up to him to get William off that island before one of those crazy English’s destroyed him.

‘I’ve been trying to get hold of the Malagasy Minister for weeks now,’ said Anathi, sitting opposite Jez in her office in Sandton. Jez sighed, ‘It’s starting to feel so pointless, Anathi.’

‘I don’t know, Jez, something funny is going on. The French   are behind your claim, and the South African Government are sniffing around to find out how they can exploit the fact  that an ex-Malagasy Royal now lives in South Africa. It’s all moving along perfectly. Once we hit the switch on the media, the Malagasy Government will be hard-pressed not to respond,’ Anathi frowned and sat into the back of her chair, swivelling it back and forth.

‘No, there is definitely something funny going on in Madagascar. The Minister was so positive and delighted to hear from you. I don’t for one minute believe that he is ignoring us purposefully. I’ll try and get hold of some contacts in-country to try and find out what’s going on,’ Anathi leaned forward and wrote something down on a notepad. Jez nodded in agreement. To be honest, she didn’t really care either way about her Malagasy heritage. It made no difference to her — unless of course, they were about to give her a holiday house on the island, along with Edward English’s head served on a platter. Seeing as the chances of either of those things happening were very slim, she’d decided not to think too much about Anathi’s plot.

‘I also wanted to ask how your training is going with the sangoma?’ asked Anathi, changing the subject. She could see that Jez wasn’t that interested in her theories regarding the Malagasy Ministry. Jez beamed back in response.

‘It’s been amazing,’ she said. ‘My teacher, Karabo’s teacher, has been tough but amazing. Although she is a real grump when she isn’t working. She also moans about Karabo all the time.’

‘Oh really? And what does she say?’ asked Anathi, leaning in towards Jez who was talking faster than she was thinking.

‘Oh, she rambles on all the time — Karabo is so talented, Karabo has the vision, Karabo is wasting her time with western medicine. And then she goes off into isiXhosa and I don’t understand,’ Jez shrugged her shoulders.

‘Hmmm, I don’t suppose she says what she thinks Karabo should rather be studying?’ asked Anathi.

‘Of course. She says Karabo should be with her, learning everything she knows and then taking over from her. She says the people will come from far and wide to see her. Karabo would be healing thousands of people a year,’ responded Jez, slowly realising she was probably giving away too much information.

‘But you know how it is. I’m sure she doesn’t mean all of it. She is very grumpy some days and possibly a bit senile. Who knows how old she is?’

‘Yes well, no need to worry. I am sure she and Karabo will sort it out,’ said Anathi, knowing full well that she’d be getting on a flight that afternoon to visit the sangoma and sort out Karabo’s training herself.

As she drove to the sangoma’s hut that evening, Anathi spent the time thinking about Karabo. She’d noticed the change in  her daughter during her last visit. She could see Karabo was struggling with what she thought she wanted to do, and what her truth was driving her towards. Studying medicine would suit Karabo, and she certainly was smart enough to be a doctor. At the same time, Anathi wasn’t sure that seven years of studying western medicine was going to really help Karabo be who she needed to be.

Anathi’s stomach began to twist in knots. She’d only ever spoken to the sangoma over the phone to arrange payments for Karabo’s training and had never actually met her. In all honesty, Anathi would rather be meeting a CEO than this formidable woman. Even though she’d grown up in a family of gifted women (many of whom were sangomas), Anathi still felt out of her depth. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t been called on by her ancestors. At the time, her mother’s friends had looked at her sadly and clicked their tongues apologetically at her lack of spiritual connectedness. Since then, she’d driven herself to be exceptional at her job. When Karabo had been called by her ancestors, she was delighted — even if Karabo fought hard against it. It was an honour to be chosen, but it could be a challenge, especially if you wanted to do something else with your life.