The lemon orchard"Hello? Is anyone there?" A creak came from the light plywood door. "HI?" Suddenly there was a tremendous crash as the cheap door flew open, falling off the hinges that held it in place. I jumped out of my bed full of straw and grass, only to be hit on the head with a heavy metal object, knocking me unconscious. The last thing I remember is being dragged, half-naked, across the rough earth floor, before falling into total darkness. I don't know how long I was unconscious, but it must have only been a few minutes, because I could see the wood fire. , used to heat the small shack, still on fire. I grunted and the group of kidnappers stopped dead in their tracks. Two hands reached down and helped me to my feet. I tried to orient myself but I fell. From the dark, cold night, lit only by the faint glow of a lantern, the voice said, "Don't go so fast." I immediately recognized the Afrikaans accent of someone who didn't know the English language perfectly. I already knew what the "charge" I had been accused of was: daring to take two white men to court. "It's as dark as a Kaffir's soul out here." It was clear that these men were racist, as they openly insulted me and black people in general. I soon discovered that the object with which I had been hit earlier was a rifle, and the man holding it appeared to be the "Oom," or leader of the gang. I feared this man the most, as I had no doubt that he could or would kill. at any moment, without remorse, right here, in the lemon grove we were passing through. Only then did the cold hit me, now that the fear and adrenaline had calmed down a bit. I realized I was shaking uncontrollably. One of the men spoke and told Oom that he was cold, even though he was wearing warm clothes. "Cold?" said Oom, “You are colder than that