Mudiwa had come to Lungile’s school two years before. Her father was a teacher in Masvingo, Zimbabwe, but the family had to leave when whispers in the night told them that the ZANU PF war veterans were coming for him, the regional opposition MDC organizer. Mudiwa, her mother, and her father packed up what they could and slipped over the border the same night.

They had friends living in Alexandra. They would stay only until after the upcoming elections. They were sure that the MDC would win and Mugabe and his friends would be out. Then it would be safe for them to go back to Zimbabwe. It would be safe for them to go back home.

Mudiwa’s father left for Zimbabwe when the elections started. Though Mudiwa and her mother begged him to stay in South Africa, he knew he could not leave such important work for others. They had heard from him regularly before the elections, but suddenly he stopped calling.

Mudiwa’s mother spent hours at the phone shop, calling people they knew, trying to get any information about her husband. The last they heard was that he had been arrested with other MDC members. Mudiwa’s uncle spent every waking hour searching for his brother, and Mudiwa and her mother waited in Alexandra for any hopeful word.

Lungile knew all this because soon after Mudiwa arrived in Alexandra, they became friends. Mudiwa, though the same age as Lungile, was much smaller than her, with delicate hands and tiny feet. Though they looked very different from each other, they had many things in common, one of which was their birthday – the twenty-second of May.

Once her father left, Mudiwa’s bubbly personality disappeared too. Lungile was worried about her friend. “Have you heard any news about your father?” she asked Mudiwa that day.

“No, my uncle thinks he knows where they’ve been taken. He is waiting to raise some money then he’ll go there. Then we’ll know more.”

“At least that’s something,” Lungile tried. Then she changed the subject, hoping to carry her friend to a better mental place. “What are you doing for your science project?”

Mudiwa turned to her, her tiny face full of worry. “Lungile, I’m scared.”

Lungile took Mudiwa’s hands in hers and led her to a bench under a nearby shade tree. “I know, Mudiwa. But your uncle is there. He will find your father and get him out of jail and then your dad will come back to South Africa.”

Mudiwa shook her head. “No, not that, Lungile. I think we’re in danger, my mother and I.”

“Danger? From what?”

“Where we stay, they’re talking. They want the foreigners out. My mother is getting scared, but we don’t have any money to leave. My father took everything. We don’t know what to do; we can’t go anywhere.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Lungile reached forward and wiped the tears away. “Do you think it’s that bad? Does your mother think that they will harm you?”

“She doesn’t say it, but I can see it in her eyes. Near our house, the young men are meeting in the night. They leave those meetings shouting that the foreigners must go. They might kill us, Lungile.”

Mudiwa cried into her hands and Lungile grabbed the smaller girl up in her arms. As Mudiwa explained more, Lungile knew that the comments made in the dark had changed into something else altogether. She was afraid for her friend, but she vowed that she would not sit by and do nothing.

***

Tell us what you think: Are Mudiwa and her mother right to be so very afraid?