A bakkie pulls up beside me.

“Lubela!” It’s Theo Ngcongo. “Going home to your village? I’ll give you a lift.”

I’m not sure I want him to, but it’s a long walk, so I get into the bakkie.

“I know it’s not my weekend off, but I can fit in a quick visit before I have to be on duty on the deck this evening,” I explain, and then feel angry with myself, because it’s not as if he’s my boss and I need to make excuses to him.

No, he’s just my superior, according to Dean: ‘ranger’ to my ‘cleaning staff’.

Maybe he can feel my mood, because he doesn’t try to get a conversation going. When we reach the village I see him looking all around. I wonder how it looks to his eyes, late on a Sunday afternoon. A few people are out, drifting around or lounging outside their small houses. They stare at us and I see their wariness; it’s because Theo is a stranger.

“So this is where you grew up?”

“Yes.” I feel defensive. “That house.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere special, just driving around, so I’ll wait for you. That way you can have longer with your family.”

“I’ll only be a few minutes anyway. I just have to give my mother something, and talk to my brother.”

I get out of the bakkie and go inside. Only Mama is there.

“Daughter, have you brought money?” Her voice is feeble.

It hurts me that her first question to me is about money.

“Yes, Mama.”

I see how weak and thin she is as she opens the envelope I give her, and uses a finger to count the money.

“It’s not all.” She knows how much I earn.

“I told you. I have to keep something back. I’m a girl, remember? That’s one monthly expense. And I’m in contact with Thandaza guests. I have to be clean and smell good. I can’t count on tips.”

And the mini toiletry bottles from that woman won’t last long.

Mama leans forward in her chair so that she can see out through the open door. I notice Theo has got out of the bakkie and is learning against it. I hope he can’t hear us.

“Who is your friend?”

“Someone from Thandaza. He’s training to be a ranger.”

“Ranger?” Something flickers in Mama’s eyes. “Maybe he can help us, ne? If he likes you …?”

Heat fills my head. I look at her, remembering how she used to be, her smile especially, and the way she loved teaching Fiki and me to imitate different bird calls when we went into the veld.

“You’re talking money?”

“Everything costs more, every time.” She’s pleading with me. “The buses to the clinic and Fiki’s school. If you tell him …”

“What has happened to you? It’s always money with you these days!”

It comes flying out of me, and I feel as if something that has been tightly sealed up inside me has suddenly split open. “You weren’t like this before. I hate it. I don’t know you.”

“Before.” She uses my word, still appealing to me. “I was well before. I want to be well again. Strong enough for work.”

Then I feel like I’m falling apart. I want to take back what I said, say I’m sorry, but I can’t, because I’m also still angry – angry that she needs to say words that are like a cry for help, and that I have to hear them. Angry too that I earn so little, with no chance of a tracker’s better pay just because I’m a female, never mind how good I’d be.

I run out of the house, and there’s Fiki, arriving home from somewhere.

“Fiki, there’s something I have to ask you.” The same question that made me so angry when Theo asked it of me, but he had a point. “Things in the village? No jobs and all that? It means people might try to exploit you. Outsiders. Setting small snares for meat to eat is one thing. But the rhinos? The Thandaza people are wondering how the poachers are finding them so easily. Could be locals. Has there been anyone around?”

“You saying you don’t trust me?” Temper lifts Fiki’s voice. “You’ve become one of them, Lubela. Those rich people on that place. Coming here in a bakkie with one of your new people.”

“You’re my people!” I hear how full of tears I sound. “Fiki, I know it’s difficult for you–”

“You don’t.” He won’t let me go on. “You’re not here. I see Mama every day. So guess what, Lubela? Maybe you’ve given me an idea, suspecting me like that. Maybe I should hire myself out to the poachers.”

“Fiki …” I give it up, because if I say more, I’ll cry.

I’m a mess of thoughts and feelings. Maybe Theo guesses that. When I reach the bakkie he looks at me direct and hard. He doesn’t say anything, just drives us back to Thandaza.

I hate Mphakati Shakwane. I could be earning a tracker’s pay, and I’d hardly need any training. If it wasn’t for Mphakati.

But rage won’t come. I want it to. I despise this sadness sitting in me, pulling me down with its weight. Anger would be better, hot and hard.

I’m still swallowing and pressing my lips together and blinking madly when we reach Thandaza. I must not cry in front of Theo. In front of anyone. I want to rush off to the privacy of my rondavel and howl there, but I’m on duty in a few minutes. There’ll only be time to change into my uniform.

I jump out of the bakkie, landing clumsily. I’m seeing the world through a blur.

“Hey, Lubela.” Theo has walked round from his side of the bakkie.

“What?” I say, my voice soft but also rough.

“It’ll be all right, you know,” he says.

I turn to him, needing his smile. He puts his arms round me. There’s kindness and warmth, and I lean in to him. I want him to be right, I want to let myself believe he is. For these few moments, standing in the circle made by his arms, I do believe.

I can feel how thin but fit he is, a contrast to my softness.

My misery breaks up, or maybe it’s me, dissolving. I drop my head on to his shoulder, then lift it quickly. I see him, I feel him wanting to kiss me, moving to do it. I feel myself like the other half of him, wanting and moving towards the same thing.

It starts to happen. There’s two people’s breath mixing, their lips touching, a tingling.

I jerk away.

“No, it won’t be all right.” Words that tumble out of me, broken even before I say them. “I can’t make it right, you can’t, no-one can!’

I’m turning and rushing away from him, and I know I’m going to be late reporting for duty.

Because here’s the weird thing. You can fight against crying and pretty much be successful, but as soon as someone is kind to you it’s all undone. You disintegrate.

Better for me if Theo didn’t care.

If I didn’t care.

***

Tell us what you think: Considering urgent national issues such as unemployment and poverty, how much of an issue is rhino-poaching?