My heart flooded with relief as soon as we met the gravel roads of my village in Msinga. I parked the car. A rusted gate squeaked. My dad opened the door.

“Sphamandla!” Dad exploded into a hearty laugh.

I introduced him to Linda and Owethu. He took Owethu from the pram and held her up to the blistering sun. He looked at her for a while. When he looked back at me, joy was effervescent in his eyes.

He said, “She looks just like your mother. She’s so beautiful, Sphamandla.”

Later, when we were alone, I told dad about my ordeal and my plans for the money. His aged face turned gravely serious.

“Don’t worry, Sphamandla,” he said, and looked into the distance. “You’ll get all the protection you need here. And, if you want, men from these valleys can be sent to Durban to get rid of these people for good.”

I was taken aback, and Dad realized it.

“A man has to eliminate things that are a hindrance to his progress,” he said. “You better understand that before you enter the taxi industry, Sphamandla.”

I thought for a minute or two. This was my new reality. If I had to do it, I had to do it. Did I have any choice? No – Mpilo’s lot would pursue me even harder now.

“I understand Baba,” I said.

THE END

Tell us: Do you think the whole taxi industry is run by people like this? Are they gangsters, or business people? Or a bit of both?