He has brought the bakkie to a halt out of the busy road. They were at a T junction that led southerly to Laudium and westerly to MotseMogolo. He had used the busy road from the easterly to this point. Behind them Iscor’s lights shimmered and about them a chorus of crickets wailed monotonously suspending the silence that embraced them.
All were silent now except for the wailing insects and the passing cars to Pretoria and back from Pretoria either to Motshemogolo or Laudium. Silent as if digesting what he had just said. The street lights illuminated their bleak faces, if you were fortunate enough to be part of this entourage you would have seen that none of the boys was beyond eighteen.
‘Ek sal jou dood maak jong you say the money is not enough. You do not have a right to tell me how much I should pay you. Zeke (he has come to call him that) you think you are a Mr. know it all heh, voetsek man!’ said the Indian man in the bakkie and all the boys sprang back in fear even though he was directing his swearing to Zakhele not to all of them. They knew he had a gun and this made them uneasy.