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didn't trust me with his daughters (I didn't think he was concerned about the grandmoth-
er.) The middle daughter confirmed my hunch after Mr. Glover went to bed because she
whispered to me, “He doesn't trust you.” In all honesty, I would have never jeopardized
Mr. Glover's kindness for welcoming me into his home by doing anything stupid. Before
he left for bed he asked me how I picked his farm from all the farms in the area for he was
the only English-speaking farmer within a radius of 50 kilometres. I explained that I was
saying a prayer to myself as I cycled and as soon as I finished it, the very first farm that
I came across I approached and it just so happened to be his. I guess it was my Guardian
Angel who helped me out.
I went to bed late and only managed 6 hours of sleep. After a light breakfast and a
big thank-you to dad…I mean Mr. Glover, I pushed off. The road was quite flat with only
a few gentle inclines. I took my first break in a highway rest area where I sat at a table to
write in my journal. I met a minister of a local African Church who invited me to stay with
him and another family who asked me if I wanted a lift to the city. I said no thank-you to
both for it was still early in the morning. I made it as far as Pienaars Rivier and then turned
onto a parallel highway in the hope of locating a farm.
I cycled through a township and every one stopped to look at me. I waved and said
hello to everyone that I passed however they didn't respond. Later on, I found out that it
was not a very good time to be in the townships. Chris Hani, the leader of the Communist
Party, was just assassinated and tensions were rising throughout the country into a political
crisis.IarrivedatapolicestationandwasaskedwhatIcarriedonthebicycleforprotection
(implying a weapon like a gun or knife. I don't think he was referring to condoms.) I said
nothing, only a smile and my small Bible. He shook his head as though I was completely
insane.
Since it was getting late, I decided to head back to the motorway to camp some-
where along its length. En route, I cycled by a residential area and asked a local if there
was a campsite nearby. He said no but suggested that I could camp at his parents' place.
He gave me directions and shortly after I found myself knocking on the door of an elderly
couple. With their permission, I pitched my tent in their backyard and just as I was about
to sleep, the lady called out of the side window to see if I wanted anything to eat. So, I
stuck my head out of my tent and yelled back, “No thanks. It wasn't necessary.” Just like
my mother, she ignored what I said, and called me over to the door to pick up a sandwich,
a mug of coffee and a great dessert. After a big thank-you, I said to her, “slaplicka” (sleep
well) and she bid me the same. I tied my bike to the tent with a string as an improvised
alarm system and fell asleep almost immediately.
The next morning was so cold I could see my breath. I quickly packed up my tent
andloadedthebike.SinceIdidn'teatallmydinnerfromthenightbefore,Iatetheleftovers
for breakfast. I returned the plate and the mug back to the lady and thanked her. My hosts
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