The Lemon Orchard

The Lemon Orchard

"Hello? Somebody there?" A creaking sound came from the lightweight

plywood door. "Hello?" Suddenly a tremendous crashing sound came, as

the cheap door swung open, falling away from the very hinges holding

it in place. I leapt up from my straw and grass filled bed, only to be

hit on the head with a heavy metal object, knocking me into

semi-unconsciousness. The last thing I remember is being dragged,

semi- naked across the rough earth floor, before falling into pitch

blackness.

I do not know how long I was unconscious for, but it must have been

only a few minutes, as I could see the log fire, used for heating the

small shack, still burning. I grunted and the group of kidnappers

stopped dead. Two hands came down and hauled me to my feet. I tried to

get my bearings but fell over.

From the dark, cold night, lighted only by the faint glow of a lantern

a voice said, "Don't go so fast". I recognised immediately the

Afrikaans accent of someone who was not totally familiar with the

English language. I knew already what the 'charge', which I had been

accused of, was: daring to take two white men to court. "It is as dark

as a Kaffirs soul out here". It was clear that these men were racists,

as they openly insulted me and black people in general. I quickly

discovered that the object I had been hit with earlier was a shotgun

and the man holding it appeared to be the 'Oom', or boss of the gang.

I feared this man the most, as I was in no doubt that he could or

would kill me at any moment, without remorse, right here in the lemon

orchard which we were travelling through.

Only then did the cold hit me, now that the fear and adrenaline had

somewhat calmed down. I realised I was shaking uncontrollably. One of

the men spoke and told Oom that he was cold, even though he was

wearing heavy clothing. "Cold?" said Oom, "Are you colder than this