Africa's Best Read
“Mama, once your six months visitor’s visa expires and you’re still in England, you’re illegal. That’s it. There’s no other way of looking at it. Sooner or later, you will be sent home. You can’t disappear here. We are all written down on paper. You can’t disappear from paper.”“We play hide and seek here. All of us. I cannot watch you play cat and mouse with these people. It’s rough. This whole running around takes everything from you. It strips you apart. You are my mother.
Then, one afternoon, old Marlon, the security guard from Trinidad who had lived in Oxford forever, had suddenly taken her by her hand…. and stashed her in the storeroom. Bilal had called the police on her. Nomusa had heard the police barking about an illegal as she had remained tucked inside the storeroom. Marlon had insisted to the police he knew nothing about an illegal.
“They have Bongani.” Breathless, Nomzamo climbed onto the back seat. Panting, she plunged the three plastic bags on the floor.“This morning.” Nomzamo swallowed a breath in-between the panting, her eyes large. “They took in BB.” And the blue, yellow and white coloured Thames Valley Police sedan appeared from nowhere behind them.Whooshing forward, the cab glided through Cowley Road.
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