The under Cover

The Ghost of 1996

Thirteen years. That’s how long the stone walls of prison had been my only horizon. When I was finally released on July 12, 2015, the world felt like a foreign planet. My old friend Leslie picked me up and took me to his brother Johnathan’s place. I spent those first few weeks in a daze, trying to catch up with a reality that had moved on without me. Everything was digital now—the TVs were thin as glass, and everyone carried small computers in their pockets they called "smartphones."

​Johnathan owned a pub in the suburbs and a tavern at his home. To keep my hands busy, I started helping out around the tavern. One afternoon, Johnathan called me into his office. He placed a six-pack of beer on the desk between us and popped a cap.

​"Let’s have a drink," he said, his eyes searching mine. "I want to place you at my pub in the suburbs, but first, I need to know who I’m hiring. What got you sent away?"

​I looked at the condensation on the bottle. "I was charged with m—"

​"Wait," Johnathan interrupted, leaning back. "Start from the very beginning. Tell me how it all began."

​The Lie That Started It All

​It started in 1996. I was desperate for work, roaming the streets of Randburg. I knocked on the gate of a massive mansion, and the owner, a man named Steve, gave me his number. He told me to call him before 07:00 the next morning. I did. By 08:00, he had picked me up and driven me to a scrapyard.

​He introduced me to his crew—Sizwe, Jack, and Senzo. He told them I was his "younger brother" and that I’d be helping with "family rituals" from time to time. To my parents, I told a different story. I told them I’d found a job at a car wash. My mother was relieved, and my dad was just happy I wasn't wandering the streets anymore.

​But the "car wash" was a ghost.

​One morning, Steve picked me up at 05:00. We drove to a secluded cabin where a blue Ford and a white Toyota were waiting. We swapped vehicles, and the atmosphere turned cold.

"Where is the car wash?" I asked innocently.

The car went silent. Then, a heavy pistol was pressed into my hand.

"Shut up and listen," one of them growled. "You have one trial to get hired. You fail, you die."