Philasande

I wake up in a daze in this fast moving panel van.

I remember what happened before everything went black. I was drinking a cold drink. Mrs Kweyama offered it to me when I was on my way to the spaza shop. Before that I was so thirsty. I was craving cold Fanta Orange so much I could taste it in my mouth as Ma looked for money in her purse. I could smell it as I made my way to the spaza shop and could not wait to drink it.

I was close to the spaza when I heard my name. I knew that voice even before I turned. I knew that smell too. I recognised it from my last prize-giving ceremony when the Principal bent down to hand me my prize. She asked my name, congratulated me on my seven As and asked what my favourite cold drink was. I thought it was a funny thing to ask me at prize-giving, but of course I answered. ‘Fanta Orange’, I told her.

I turned. Mrs Kweyama was holding a cold can of Fanta Orange and she was smiling at me.

“Philasande, how are you? I see you are top of your class again,” she said, standing next to a white VW panel van with the number plate NX 231 5672.

“Hello,” I said. “Yes, I am doing well in school.”

“Very good, little one. Here, to congratulate you on your good marks, I have your favourite,” she said and handed me the Fanta.

I looked back at my mother; she was watching the TV.

“Do you live here now?” I asked her and sipped.

She didn’t answer my question but asked me, “Are you going to the spaza shop?”

“Yes.” I gulped down another sip.

“Can you buy me an electricity recharge? The card is in my car,” she said, walking towards the door of the van. It was a funny thing to ask me. Why didn’t she do it herself? But I followed her.

“Here, I have it in my bag,” she said and opened the van door. I was standing next to her. I was about to take the card when everything went black.

I wake up in the speeding van. I can see Mrs Kweyama driving, from where I am lying. She knows how to handle a car, and such a big car at that. The time on the dashboard: 5:45. I see it because the blindfold over my eyes is not tight enough. It must be morning because the shadows are not yet long.

I can still taste the Fanta Orange in my mouth, but it’s not the same as usual, there’s another bitter taste with it. She must have put something in it. The rope around my wrists is so tight I can hardly move my hands. My feet are tied too.

I need to remember everything so someone can find me. My teachers say I have a photographic memory; they say I am a genius. I guess it is true. I remember everything if I have seen it once. Everything.

Here is how I will describe Mrs Kweyama: She has a beauty spot on her chin. Wears gold rings on her right index finger, and left middle finger. She wears a lemon smelling perfume. She has a gold slit next to her top molar tooth and a full gold front bottom tooth. She likes bright coloured clothes. When she called my name yesterday she was wearing an orange T-shirt and a green pair of jeans. Her sunglasses were Giorgio Armani.

The windows are open just a bit. I smell sugar in the air. It smells like the sugar mill we passed on a school trip to the South Coast. Now I hear a roaring river. I black out again.

I wake up at 7:30. The car has slowed down a lot. The road is bumpier, the windows are open. I don’t hear the sounds of other cars. Birds chirp; it sounds like a rural area. The blindfold is still loose. I see a signboard out of the window. It reads: ‘Imfume Mission 10’.

“Check on her,” says Mrs Kweyama. I didn’t know there was another person in the car.

I close my eyes, and pretend to be asleep.

“The blindfold is getting loose but she is still out,” another lady says. I glimpse her under the blindfold as she moves and tightens it. Why didn’t I see her before? She must have been in the passenger seat. I study her. Now I can identify both of them.

We turn left onto a gravel road. I store it all in my photographic mind.

***

Tell us what you think: Would thirsty Philasande have taken a Fanta Orange from a stranger?