It was Saturday and she was going to visit her *gogo in the township. She had been raised by her gogo after her mother had died and she always enjoyed her visits. They would drink sweet, white tea together, eat *pap and nyama and watch some ridiculous re-run of a soap opera. 

She drove through the familiar streets of *Soweto where she'd grown up, and where it had also happened so many years ago. On the way, she couldn't help thinking about the case- she tried not to take her work with her when she visited her *Gogo because she could always sense it. Sense it like a black cloud hovering over her. She was also thinking about last night and running into Hope. She hated Church, and she had been made to sit in it. 

She continued to drive and look around. Like with most things in South Africa, there was a clear divide between rich and poor. And Soweto was no different. The areas changed as she drove. There were the shanty towns, houses that had been made with corrugated iron and anything else they could find, lined the dusty roads like packed sardine cans. Those were reserved for the poorest. The ones who wore the deep scars of apartheid- scars that had never healed. 

Then there were the houses of the elite, the houses that towered, pristine and smelt of money. They too bore the same scars, only they had figured out a way to reap the rewards of them.  And then there was were she came from. It was neither terribly poor, nor rich. She passed the Soweto towers, the brightly painted towers that stood out like a diamond in a pile of coal. You could go bungee jumping there. Why? She thought. Her work was dangerous enough as it was, she wasn't going to hurl herself down some tower on a bouncy elastic attached to her feet. 

She turned into Meadowlands, the place she had grown up. Small houses of varying newness dotted the road. Newly painted ones with fancy gates and green lawns on the pavement, and others set back on a dusty strip of land, a small, bent over wire fence wrapping around them. She passed a bright red painted shipping container that had been turned into a tuck shop and a hair salon that was popular with all the ladies in the area. 

Children played on the street, kicking a ball from one to the other. Neighbors stood on the pavement gossipping, here no one's secrets were safe. And people walked on the street carrying shopping bags from the regular Saturday shop. She finally came to the end of the street where her old house stood. It was a small, modest home that her Gogo had made very comfortable for them. 

She pulled her car onto the lawn and stepped out. She waved a greeting to one of the neighbors and walked around the back to where the door was located.  As she was about to enter, a woman came rushing out. She stepped in and found her gogo seated on the floor, a straw mat and the bones stretched out in front of her. Clearly she had just been healing someone. She wondered what was wrong with that women; maybe she was barren, maybe someone had cast a strong *muti spell on her or maybe she was suffering with a *snake in her stomach. She had heard it all over the years, and quite frankly didn't believe it. She places little stock in what her gogo did actually. She was a woman of science and reason, her job relieved on these principles; DNA, fingerprints. 

"Gogo." She greeted her. Her gogo looked up at her. 

"*Unjani child." she said fingering her bones. 

Dlamini replied, "Alright."

Her gogo eyed her suspiciously, not quite satisfied with her answer.

"*Kwenjani?" 

Dlamini shrugged. What was wrong? Everything was wrong. This case. Her recent break-up. 

"Hlala phansi" her Gogo indicated for her to sit down, and Dlamini obeyed. She watched her as she gathered up her bones. They weren't strictly just bones. In amongst them was an old dice, some coins, a few small stones, some seashells and even a domino. 

Dlamini shook her head. "Hayi. Akukho. No." she urged her not to do it. But her gogo didn't listen, instead she continued to gather the bones up in her hands and then threw them back on the mat. Her gogo studied the bones and then looked up at here very seriously. 

"Kukhona okubi okukhulu eseduze." She said. 

"A great evil nearby?" Dlamini echoed her gogo's words in English. 

Her gogo nodded. 

Dlamini couldn't really argue with that. This case she was working on was evil. "It's the case I'm working on." she said. But her gogo immediately started shaking her head. 

"No. It okucashile." she said. 

"What do you mean it is disguised?" she asked. She thought the evil was pretty obvious and out there. It had basically slapped her through the face this week. 

"Akasiye ngubani lona wesifazane ubonakala."

"She is not who she seems?" Dlamini repeated. "Who is?"

Her gogo shook her head. "The bones don't tell me that. Just... Qaphela. Be careful my child."

*Gogo- granny is Zulu

*Pap and Nyami- A traditional Zulu dish. Meat and ground maize porridge. 

*Muti- traditional medicine. 

*Snake in her stomach- A traditional healer is consulted for many things. Anything from issues pertaining to health, to relationship, dealing with bad luck and financial problems to issues to your more interesting ones, like the belief that a snake is in your stomach.