Lebo is dragged down some steps into an underground room. One of the men, she can’t see which one, ties her onto what feels like a steel bed. She tries to push back, to resist, but he is too strong.

“Don’t think you can fight me. It will make things very bad for you. Obey or you will be whipped. Ri do ni rwa nga mboma mani inwi. (We will cane you severely.)”

Lebo recognises the voice as that of the man who gagged her in the car. It is hoarse, maybe from smoking too many cigarettes. This man is cruel, she thinks.

Now his hands are on her face pulling at the cloth. She smells a mixture of cooked beef and nicotine from his fingers. And suddenly the light comes flooding in. She blinks against the brightness. It takes her a few seconds to take in where she is.

It’s a basement room with grey concrete walls, lit by a single light bulb. There are no windows. There is a staircase on the left side of the room, leading up. She was right. It is a bed she is tied to. But just the frame. There is no matress or bedding. In one corner of the room are two wooden stools and a small table with a glass jug of water. A portable radio sits on the table, near the jug. It is switched off.

“Don’t think about escaping.” It’s the woman. She has come down the stairs, her walk purposeful. She is wearing a grey tracksuit and white takkies. Her face looks stern. It is a warning, but there is something else in her voice. Something that tells Lebo she has seen what happened to someone who tried to escape before, and that she is warning Lebo.

“This place is not your home,” says the woman. “You obey our orders or else…”

“Ya, tell her, Pinky,” the driver says. He is slim and wiry, and his voice sounds very aggressive. He leans on the wall, drawing on his cigarette.

“True, Davida, she must,” she echoes.

Lebo feels the urge to speak. Maybe ask them why they drove away with her? Why they were chaining her onto this bedframe? But she is terrified of offending her kidnappers if she does. Her eyes track around the room. There is a small square, shiny grey panel opposite her, hanging on the wall. She is not sure what it is.

The woman and the other man, who has been referred to as John, have sat down on the stools in the corner. The woman takes a cellphone out of her jacket pocket and hands it to John.

“The number is…” She reads ten digits out to John.

After five digits Lebo feels like someone has hit her in the stomach. She recognises the digits the man is entering into his phone. It’s her father’s cellphone number.

She hears the phone ringing. And then her father’s voice on loudspeaker.

“Hello, hello. Who is this?”

Lebo starts in her steel bed. “Daddy–!” she reacts, shouting for her father.

“Hey you – shut up!” Davida reprimands her. He steps forwards and glares at her. He is right up in her face.

Lebo trembles in fear. Still, she speaks loudly: “Please, Papa…”

John ignores the young girl’s pleas and speaks to her father: “Mr Seema, we have your daughter Lebo. If you want to see her alive again you will need to pay us two million rand. Do you understand?”

There is a stunned silence on the other end of the phone.

Lebo is quiet now, wide-eyed with shock. She imagines her father standing with the phone in his hand, in their living room.

“I don’t understand. You kidnapped Lebo? When? Where?” And then his voice breaks: “She is only a child. She is my only baby.”

“We don’t care if she is your only child,” says John. “The only thing we care about right now is the money.”

“How do I know you have her? How do I know this is not some sick joke?”

John laughs. “Are you a fool or what, Mr Seema? Did your daughter come home from school?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you want to hear your daughter again? Will that make you believe?”

And then the driver is shoving Lebo in the back. “Say something. Make it short. Don’t try anything funny.”

“Hello Daddy.” Lebo’s voice is weak, faltering.

“Lebo?” Her father is crying now. “Lebo, are you OK?”

“That’s all you are going to get.” Davida shoves Lebo back against the bed.

“Please don’t hurt her,” Lebo’s father implores.

“That depends…”

“I have only got R5 000 in cash. I will have to borrow from my friends or the bank.”

Davida jumps forward and snatches the phone away from John. “Do you think we are fools? We are not playing children’s games. What is R5 000? You are insulting us!”

“Please, people, spare my baby’s life.” Her father’s voice pierces through Lebo’s heart. She has never heard him cry before. She knows her father as a brave man. An upstanding man.

Malindi Seema has worked hard to build himself a business that is now the envy of many in Makhado. People talked about him as an unemployed man who had created himself and many other people jobs.

“He started from nothing,” they would say.

Lebo has listened to her mother telling the story of Lebo’s father, many times. She never tires of it.

Mr Seema was retrenched from a chain supermarket. He suffered joblessness for seven years. He only survived by doing odd jobs in other people’s houses and local businesses. There were dry periods sometimes, when he would spend a whole month sitting idle at home.

But one morning he came home smiling and whispered to his wife: “I have got a plan to collect tins and glass.” He explained how he would make money through recycling. Soon he turned his yard into a recycling base and employed two women. Three years down the line, he had bought a Nissan Hardbody bakkie for use in his business. And his business had grown bigger. He could generate enough income to secure credit for a house in town.

He moved into town and used the house in the township for his business. He employed another four individuals from the township. He became a respected man both in town and the township. He registered his ‘baby’ Lebo at a school in town.

“I want the best education for my daughter,” he would boast.

His mind was always on business. He wanted to expand it. So, he placed adverts on local radio and in community newspapers inviting people to bring glass and tin for cash. Indeed his business grew, and became successful.

He had a name out there – a name these kidnappers had heard of and decided to target. These people saw her father for a rich man who must share his fortune with them. They would never get to know how hard it had been for him.

Lebo wants to shout out through her tears: “Please, Papa, make a plan!” But she knows her father doesn’t have nearly the huge amount of money these people are demanding.

The driver switches off the phone and tosses it to the woman. “Whatever he says, that man is loaded. He’s rich. We will just need to keep turning the screws.”

Lebo wonders what the time is; how many hours have passed. It feels like the middle of the night to her.

The moment the woman, Pinky, switches on the radio, they hear the newsreader’s voice: “… was abducted this afternoon on her way home from school in the town of Makhado. Her father is well-known businessman Malindi Seema. According to her friends, who cannot be named to protect their identities, the kidnappers lured Lebo into their car. They wanted her to show them a certain scrapyard, which happened to be close to her home. That was the last time she was seen. Her parents are afraid for her safety after the kidnappers demanded a ransom of two million rand for her release.”

John switches off the radio. He steps back and points a remote at the grey panel on the wall. It flickers into life.

There is a photograph of Lebo, in her school uniform, smiling down at them from the television screen.

“… a car, said to be the blue sedan the kidnappers were travelling in, was seen driving north towards Hangklip at approximately four o’clock by a man cycling back from work. He reported the incident to the police after hearing an announcement on radio, giving a description of the car. If anyone has any further leads could they contact Sergeant Maluleke at Makhado Police Station.

As he is about to give the telephone number the driver switches the TV off.

“Shit, someone put two and two together with the car. They know the car…” It’s Pinky.

“Of course they know the car,” says Davida. “This little bitch here has friends. What do you think? Of course they told everything they saw to the police.”

“We’re too close … we need to move,” Pinky says. “You heard what the guy said. Just now the lines at Makhado Police Station will be buzzing. What if someone saw us pull in here? It will be all over the news.”

“We need a new car, Davida, eh?”

“Yeah. I’m on it.”

Davida ascends the steps and strides out of the door. After an hour or so he returns. “It’s organised,” he informs the rest. “The car is out on the road to Musina. I paid the boys to set it on fire. Just charred remains. They’ll be out there investigating the site for hours.”

Pinky nods. “That’s great, sure,” she agrees.

“I made a deal with a connection and there’s a Toyota Prado waiting outside.”

“Let’s get going!” shouts Pinky.

Lebo is blindfolded again. She whimpers as she is pushed in front of them up the stairs and out into the cool night air.

And then they are driving – it feels so fast. Lebo feels sick from hunger and her lips are parched now. She needs something to drink. She thinks of that cold Sprite that the woman offered her, enticed her into the car with. If only she hadn’t agreed to go with them … but it is too late.

Each kilometre takes them further and further away from the safety of her family.

***

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