Mark of the Beast
“What I’m about to tell you has been happening in the shadows of Johannesburg’s Northern Suburbs”, the video started.
Maria du Plessis sat back in her chair, with her freshly brewed cup of coffee in one hand, and Youtube opened on her phone in the other hand, after opening her quaint Dullstroom coffee shop.
“The mainstream media does not want you to know this, because they are all a part of this. They are all, literally, in bed with the politicians, and the women from rural South Africa who are preying on our young men.”
Maria’s eyes widened in disbelief. Her hand over her gasping mouth in shock. “Pieter!” she called her husband from outside. “Kyk hierso!”
Pieter ran in with his spade in the air, ready to fight. “What’s wrong”?
“Look what’s happening there in Fourways. Isn’t that where Paul stays?”
“Paul is now an adult”, Pieter answered. “He can look after himself. Don’t you think you raised him well enough”.
“Ja, maar I don’t trust what’s happening there. Look what they are saying here. You have to go to check if he’s ok.”
“Go to Joburg!? Nee man. Why don’t you just call him?”
“If he’s trapped in this thing, he won’t tell us the truth.” Maria replied. “Please, you have to go tomorrow”.
“No! The Datsun bakkie will never make it that far. You know it’s been giving problems for years. That place is dangerous. What if I get robbed. What if they kill me. Then what are you going to do!?”
Maria started sulking. A tear started rolling down her cheek. She turned on her chair to face away from him.
“Don’t do this now Maria”. Pieter walked towards her and put his hand on her shoulder. “You know I’d do anything for you”.
“Well why don’t you love us enough to make sure your son is safe?”
Pieter looked down. He sighed. He looked out towards the window. “Ok fine. I’ll leave tomorrow morning”.
The next day, at the crack of dawn, Pieter was grumbling to himself as he prepared to leave. He packed a tog bag and threw it into the passenger seat. He packed some bread and put it into a plastic container. Maria stood on the porch with her purple nightgown. He grumbled past her, walked into the car, and drove off.
The journey was a tiring one. Past the beautiful countryside of the Eastern Transvaal. Past the industrial coal mines of Emalahleni. Past the townships of Daveyton, and through the suburbs of Benoni. Onto the N3 North, continuing onto the N1 South, until he finally reached the Winnie Mandela offramp.
As the car approached the hill of the offramp, driving onto Winnie Mandela drive, the engine of the old Datsun started coughing. Black smoke started coming through whichever gap the bonnet would allow. Pieter’s foot pressed onto the accelerator, and the car jumped forward. Then stopped. Then jumped forward. Then stopped. The cars around him started hooting. The cars behind him swerved to his side, slowed down to look at him, then sped off.
He eventually managed to get the car to the Leslie Street intersection and turned down towards Douglasdale. He found a small sideroad and parked there. “I’m so stupid. Why did I agree to do this”, he whispered to himself, closing his eyes, and putting his head back to find some relief. Until there were two taps on his windows.
“Give me your wallet and your phone now!”
He opened his eyes and turned to see a gun pointing at him through the windows.
“I said give me your damn wallet and your damn phone now oupa, and nobody needs to get hurt!”
With his hands shaking, he took the wallet from his pocket and the phone from the dashboard, and handed it to the man outside. The man grabbed them, ran to the car idling nearby, and drove off.
Still shaking, he slowly got out of the car, covered his head with his elbow placed on the car, and started crying.
A while later, after composing himself, he remembered some cash he kept in the cubby hole for emergencies. He picked up the R2000 and started walking down the road towards Douglasdale Village Shopping Centre.
“A coffee would put me in the right state of mind”, he thought to himself.
Entering the coffee shop, the overly friendly barista lady asked “Hello sir, what can I get you today?”.
“Umm, can I get a cappuccino asseblief?”
“Sure sir, that will be R40. Please tap or insert your card into the machine”.
Pieter took out a R100 note from the inner jacket of his pocket. “I have cash. Can you give me change?”
“Sorry sir, we are a responsibly cashless establishment. We only take Visa or Mastercard”.
“I just got robbed. I don’t have a card. Can you please just take my cash.’
“Sorry sir, we are responsibly cashless. We also take Apple Pay or Google Pay”.
“Are you deaf? I told you I just got robbed. Just take the money. You don’t even have to give me change.”
“Unfortunately sir, we are responsibly cashless”, the barista said, with her irritated eyes betraying the forced smile.
“Responsible to who? Fine whatever!” he said, as he stormed out of the coffee shop.
Pieter saw the large Pick ‘n Pay sign, and crossed the road hoping to find a phone. At the kiosk, he asked the man, “Can I please have a sim card and that cheap phone there”.
The man behind the counter answered, “Sure, just give me your ID so I can RICA you”.
“I just got robbed and they took my ID”, Pieter tried to explain. “Isn’t there any other way?”
“Unfortunately not sir. You’ll have to go to the police station and get an affidavit. Then go to Home Affairs and get a temporary ID document. But eish, you first have to book online before you get an appointment at Home Affairs”.
“How do I book online?” Pieter asked.
“Using your phone. You can do it on both an Android or iPhone”.
Pieter closed his eyes and bit his tongue to hold himself from exploding. People here didn’t know him like they did back home, so they wouldn’t understand.
“Sorry meneer”, Pieter started slowly. “Are you telling me that I need to have a phone, before I can buy the phone that I need to have?”
The man behind the counter paused to think about what he just said. Then burst out laughing. “Ya neh. Things are crazy these days. I don’t know what I can say.”
A lady behind him in the queue tapped him on the shoulder.
“Hello sir, I see you seem to have a bit of trouble here. You seem to not be from around here. I think I can help you.”
He turned around, and saw that the woman talking to him was a fairly beautiful middle-aged woman. Her beauty drew his focus into her eyes, which somehow instilled a childlike trust.
“I’m also a rural lady, and I can see one of our own”, she said.
“Ya, I’m from Dullstroom, in the Eastern Transvaal”.
“This world is so different from the one we know”, she said as she put her hand on his shoulder. “I help people navigate this new world much more easily. Come, let me get you a coffee and talk you through it”.
They crossed the road, back to the coffee shop.
“Take a seat while I buy the coffees. Is a cappuccino ok?”.
“Yes, that would be perfect.”
The barista looked on them with an amused smirk. As if she’d seen this all before.
The lady sat down with the coffees and took some documents out of her bag. She started explaining to Pieter, putting her hand on his, “The world we know is so different from this world here. To understand all of it, and to know the right thing to do will take anyone years to do! That’s I want to make it so much easier for you. You’ll be able to buy things in this world without having to get money from the bank, travel around without the burden of a car or a friend to help you, find places to stay, and do so much that you never even knew of.”
After the day that Pieter had, this sounded so appealing. “So where do I sign up?”
The lady took papers out of her back. “You just have to sign the following papers, and I’ll get all the things organised for you.”
Pieter started reading through what he was about to sign:
“I, the signatory, pledge allegiance to the flag of …, with liberty and justice for all.”
Photo by Yoal Desurmont on Unsplash