The streetlights are off this morning, and my corner shop lights are a bright beacon in the road. It’s busier than usual. I blame winter in Cape Town for the bustling bodies. Probably because no one wanted to go out in the cold. Or the kids didn’t remember their mommies asking them to buy what’s needed while she was at work. Tightening my hands around my mug, I take a sip of my tea and enjoy the heat down my throat. I say a little prayer that I don’t have to sit in traffic to get to work in this shop on 5th Avenue and Vester Road Athlone. The only commuting I do is to walk from my house in the back to the door of the shop, which I open at six in the morning. On a Wednesday I do my weekly stock update at 1Up in Epping. That’s the only time I leave.

I bought it when I turned thirty and after being fired from my tourism job that went extinct during Covid. I got a lekker package, needed to leave Port Elizabeth hastily and this place was listed for a great price and urgent sale because the previous owners moved to Britain to live with their son who works in IT. They no longer needed to slave away in the shop. I’ve been Aunty Candice from the first day I opened the store. The community embraced me from the beginning. I embraced the solitude. No one I knew before would expect to find me here. It’s the perfect hiding spot. Too close to be obvious. Too easy to conceal the albatross gift I possess.

Customers drift to the counter with their loot and I put my mug aside. Janey, a grumpy teenager is first in line.

Smiling, I say, “Morning, how’s your mommy?”“Morning Aunty Candice.” She hides a yawn behind a fist and shivers as she puts a sachet of Sonnendale milk and a white bread on my counter. She pulls at the lapels of her pink gown, drawing it closer to her neck.

“She’s orrite Aunty, her knee’s a bit better after the fall.”

I pack her milk and bread in a thin clear plastic packet.

“That’s good to hear. Tell her I send my love and she must pop in when she can.”

I can help with her knee, but no one here knows that. I grab a Chappies bubble gum and hold it out to her. She shoots me a smile. Big for her, considering the time of day. She trudges out of the store, shoulder folded in, throwing me a hasty bye.

I help the others in the line. They’re stoic, shifting on their feet, watching the person in front of them as if not taking their eyes off the target would make the wait go quicker. The last one is Braaimie, who I was expecting. His wife’s raised voice, reminding him that he again forgot to go to the shop, travelled through the yard next to me as I came out of the bathroom this morning. His eyes are cast down as he hands over his bread and milk and pays. Our fingers touch briefly as I take the fifty rand note from his outstretched hand. My healing reaches out to him, alerting me that something is brewing inside him. Frowning, I hold onto his hand a second longer than I should. He shifts on his feet, wanting me to hurry, but not wanting to be rude.

It’s too quick to see exactly what it is that caught my attention. But he’ll be back another day and I can think of an excuse to investigate further. He’s a good man. A forgetful one, but his heart is good.

There’s a flurry of dark grey and beige animal print and the tick, tick of heeled boots. Without seeing her face, a smile spreads on my face.

“Morning Ann.”

Ann mumbles as she stomps to the back fridge for milk and turns at the end of the aisle to go to the cereal, where she grabs a box of Kellog’s.

Ann came in on the first morning I opened the shop, pretty much the same way she entered today, and started speaking to me in Afrikaans. I replied in English. My Afrikaans was the formal school brand and my cousins would laugh at me when I spoke it, calling me sturvy, so I stopped. I didn’t tell Ann that my father scolded me for wanting to speak like my cousins. He said if I sounded too coloured, I’d never get a job. I’m just a product of the complicated history of our country. Ann doesn’t judge me though. She now speaks to me in English.

I watch Ann walk to the front of the shop with a thick woollen cap on to try to cover the swool kous underneath. To no avail, obviously, because I can see it. Lifting my mug, I use it to cover my grin. She huffs out a breath as she slaps her goods on the counter.

“Darrel again forgot to come buy the list I gave him. And I reminded him, ne. But he’s mos so forgetful, shame.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head as if it is the saddest thing.

I nod, chuckling softly, putting the mug back down next to me, greeting Gavin as he walks in.

Ann asks, “Did you see the news?”

I frown. Ann only brings up the big stuff from the news. I shake my head as I put her things in a bigger bag.

“Ja, the government wants everyone to register,” she says.

“Isn’t that what IDs are for?” I scoff as I take her money and give her change.

Elbow on the counter, she explains. “No man. You know mos.” She lifts her fingers and wiggles them in front of me. She leans in and whispers. “The one with Magic.”

I pretend to be shocked for other reasons. “Now?”

“Ja, it’s serious. If they find someone hiding a Magic wilder, a welder, uh, wat is it nou weer?” she huffs, annoyed at herself trying to say Magic Wielder. Throwing her hand out, she says, “A heks, man,” she says, tossing her hand out. “They’re gonna go to jail.”

I blink at her, letting the threat settle over me. No one knows about me, about what I can do.

She taps the counter with her hand. “It’s serious, ne?”

She moves to the side for Gavin. I pick up a slight fever as he reaches to hand over his payment for the tea bags he’s getting for his Ouma Merle. He’s most helpful to his ouma. I help his fever along, holding onto his hand as I slowly count out his change, making sure the healing I release will find where it needs to go.

Trying to shake off my alarm, I ask cautiously, “But why now?”

Ann shrugs. “Who knows. The government is just trying their scare tactics. They want us scared, then they can do whatever they want. It’s all a lie mos, the war they keep taking about. Where’s there a war?” She lifts her hands, fingers spread wide, looking side to side.

She starts saying more but I zone out, thinking about how safe I am here, no one suspects me at all. I just need to continue laying low.

Ann’s voice pulls me back in. “Why do you think they took the internet away? We can’t just google anymore, find out information on our own. Everything is just here.” She hits the newspapers on the counter. “And we must just believe everything the government says?” she scoffs.

The Covid pandemic dug up all the conspiracies, and our government decided to intervene. They didn’t trust us to read with comprehension. I wonder who’s fault that is, with our public school system. We get printed books and watch the news and read magazines and newspapers. Cell phones are for calls and SMS’s, like it’s the nineties.

“This thing between America and Europe, what’s it got to do with us? We have our own problems here. Now this, this.” She snaps her fingers and looks towards me for help.

Even through my panic, Ann manages to make me smile.

“The Magic Wielders,” I say.

She shakes her head. “Mmm-m. Die snaakse name.”

My snicker escapes. Ann rolls her eyes at my amusement.

“You mean the Europeans, the Ordem Vazia and the Americans, the Quiet Heirs.”

Clapping her hands, she continues. “Yes. Them. Why did they turn on each other? Maybe if we knew that, then it wouldn’t seem like such a weird thing for South Africa to be involved because we are mos part of the…” She pauses, raising eyebrows at me.

I don’t hesitate. “The United Magic Organisation.”

We both agree it sounds like made up names, made up scenarios.

She ledges closer on the counter. “They’re looking for healers. To go to the frontline.” Glancing side to side, she whispers. “If you ask me, it’s so they can get rid of them. Without consequences. Cause healers, they can fix anything mos.”

I can’t stop the gasp that escapes and pretend to cough. I don’t think Ann noticed. My hands are shaking and I put my mug down, hiding them behind the counter. She moves to the side while I help the next four customers. She’s still talking, expanding on the theory about why the government is specifically looking for healers.  I can’t tune into it all. I’m still recovering from her last bit of information. This is how it’s been for the last five years.

Ann starts winding down, I recognise the tone and zone back into her monologue. “Ja so anyway, let me go, before Darrel wonders where I am.”

Her sigh and heels echo in the now empty shop.

“Have a nice day, Ann.”

“You also, Candice. And don’t let that Aunty Kaami pull the wool over your eyes ne. She gets a pension.”

Ann raises her brows until I nod and then sashays out of the front of the store.

The morning rush is done and now I wait for the mommies, domestic workers and grandparents to start their drop-ins after getting the kids to school. I need to remember to ask Uncle Laamie what he knows. His take on what’s happening is usually more reliable than my friend. I love Ann, but she has some fantastical ideas. Besides, Laamie’s theory that the internets gone completely rings more true every day. It’s a lame excuse from our government to say we can’t use the internet because of misinformation. Laamie says the war between the Magic Wielders started because one of them led a massive co-ordinated cyberattack on all the components that made the internet work. He used bigger words and explained in detail, but I can’t remember it all.

I’m about to walk to the back to put my mug in the kitchen, when a loud screech and a horrific scream reaches into the shop and pulls my heart out through my throat. Blood rushes to my head. My healing stretches, reaches out towards the door and my entire body goes hot. I rush out, barely checking to see if I put the mug on the counter properly.

Outside on the corner of my shop, lies exposed brown skin amidst dark grey and beige animal print, hair in disarray, sticking out of the front end of a taxi. A cap and swirl kous rests on the side of the road. Ann’s body is mauled under the vehicle. Even in the dark early morning, there’s no mistaking it’s her. My heart drops. I can’t move my eyes from her and I can’t move closer. I gulp air, willing myself to move, but dreading confirming wat my eyes can see.

My healing strains towards her, unprovoked, as it picks up on her ribs puncturing her lungs, broken vertebra in her back and torn muscle and skin from having been dragged. My breath rattles out of my chest. My wobbly knees finally lock, allowing me to lurch forward.

I drop down next to her, and the image of my dying friend gets worse when I see that she’s awake. Her breaths are ragged. Her eyes are unfocused. She blinks slowly, as if it’s the hardest thing she’s ever done.

Only now do I notice the taxi driver and gaatjie next to us. The driver’s hands are on his head and he looks like ash. “Where did she come from?” he keeps saying over and over again.

Someone shouts, “Call the police.”

“Ambulance. Get ‘n ambulance,” another voice says.

The voices fade into the background as I school my face, reassuring myself, even though I’m sure Ann can’t see me. I need to be calm for what I’m about to do. Taking three deep breaths, I place my hands flat on the exposed skin on her shoulder. Someone shouts not to touch her until the ambulance arrives. I ignore them. I have to touch her to save her. I don’t have time to explain. It’s Ann. The ambulance and police will never get here in time.

Two voices rise into the calm I’m trying to keep and help me concentrate. “Don’t come this side. Stay that side please. She’s seeing to her. Yes Uncle, I know. We called the ambulance. We must mos wait now.”

I close my eyes, tapping into the heat that pulses within me, allowing the healing to move from my body to hers. Like hungry tentacles, the rush forward, exploring, identifying and finding the broken pieces of her. Flowing under her skin it moves between muscles, blood vessels, bones, travelling, now rippling as it congregates at the points that need it the most. It feels good to allow this part of me be free. I don’t need a refresher course to do what I’ve always been able to.

The world around me disappears. It’s just me and Ann. I don’t think about what she said about the news. I don’t think about the people who are standing watching me. I concentrate on fixing the broken pieces and not the danger of exposing myself this way. I focus on giving my healing the permission to do whatever it needs to accomplish that. Well, not whatever. I need to heal her enough so that when the ambulance arrives, she can be taken to hospital. Doing more will leave lingering questions I cannot afford to answer. Especially now. I sit there for what feels like hours and still no ambulance. When I feel her heart steady its rhythm, I open my eyes to find that Ann’s are closed. Mercifully.

Drawing back my healing, I move to stand and stumble. The gaatjie is right there to take my elbow and helps me find my balance.

“Is she okay now, Aunty?” I look at him, dazed.

“They’ll fix her at the hospital.”

“No, Aunty, do the whole job.”

My eyes widen. I didn’t think this through. He saw what I did.

He squeezes my elbow and smiles reassuringly. “David, the driver, he’ll sort everything out. I’m Alwie. Don’t worry Aunty. Fix her. It’s okay.”

Scowling, I wonder what that means. Are they agreeing to protect me? I think they’ve been in the shop before. They look familiar, but I don’t really know them and they don’t know me. Why would they do that?

I stare at him wearily. Our public sector is not the fastest. Ann will probably have to wait in triage for a long time before being seen to because her injuries are not life threatening anymore. I don’t want her to suffer more than she already has. What’s the point of this power if I can’t help someone I care about? The thought spurs me into action. I reach back to touch my friend’s skin and allow my healing to finish what I started.

I lean back when I’m done. My bones are tired. I need to rest and recover.

Alwie helps me up and is a steady rock as he leads me to sit on the edge of the pavement. It’s then that I hear the siren. I slump over in relief, finally letting the heaviness overtake me. He sits next to me, holding me up with his shoulder.

The driver comes to stand in front of me. Hand rubbing the back of his neck, eyes weary. “They’ll all say that I knocked her but they didn’t see anything else.”

I lift surprised eyes to his. He holds steady eye contact, a kind smile on his lips.

I look at the three women and the four men standing around, they’re not phased. Everyone else who came outside to see what the commotion is about, were too far and would have missed what I did. Especially since these two kept people from crowding around Ann.

If they saw, would they react the same way my parents did when I healed my dad? My mother claimed I was possessed, my father thought I was a miracle. I couldn’t stand the way they looked at me. I was this other thing to them after that. And I ran to this little shop in Athlone.

The ambulance finally pulls up to take Ann to the nearest hospital. The police arrive as the paramedics are doing their job. I see the driver stay close to them and watch as his lips move. No one notices him there as they work on my friend, cutting the damaged clothes out of their way. They aren’t confused by a lack of obvious injury. They work to get her out from under the taxi and onto a stretcher.

The police are asking questions, taking notes. David is being questioned. He’s distraught as he describes how Ann appeared out of nowhere in the dark. When they get to me I tell them that I heard Ann scream and rushed out to find her on the road, leaving out the part where I healed her. I’m still on the pavement when the ambulance pulls away.

I want to go inside my shop and close the door. But I can’t move. Laying my head on my knees, I want to stay here. Alwie comes back to sit next to me, while the police are still busy talking to David.

“We not gonna say anything to the police or anyone, Aunty Candice. They said your name was Candice?”

I nod distractedly. “But why?” I ask shakily, still recovering from it all.

He shrugs. “We have to mos stick together.”

Before I can ask what he means, he points a finger at a discarded sweet paper lying in the road. He draws a swirly pattern, and the paper moves the same way.

He smiles and again it reassures me. “Aunty mos now met David.”

I ask, “The driver?”

He nods. “He can change how people remember things.”

He hands me a card just as the police call him over.

I lift my weary body and go into my shop. There’s no way I can be open for the rest of the day. I need to sleep. I lock the door of the store and trudge to my house in the back. And then it hits me. At some point I’ll need to leave this shop and go see Ann at the hospital. My good friend wouldn’t expect anything less from me. My hands sweat, my heart stutters and my stomach drops. I’ll have to drive. I’ll have to leave this sanctuary I’ve built in the last few years.

I drop onto my bed, on my back. I finally lift the card I’ve been squeezing in my hand and look at it. It has a thick, flowy script on the front. Liewe Heksies, it says. I sputter at the ridiculousness of it. Who names anything after a kid’s puppet show from the eighties?

Staring at the ceiling, I wonder if Ann has reached Groote Schuur already. I’m sure someone will be back to investigate further. How will they rationalise that she has no real injuries but looked like that? It’s suspicious, especially now.

I hold the card to my chest. Tears burn my eyes and leak down my face. I can no longer contain my sobs. They rock through my chest, announce themselves through my throat and echo into my room. I let it out. The detachment. The loneliness. Finally able to admit it.

This shop is where I’ve been hiding. Slipping health to people like a coward.

Standing up, I walk to my planner on the wall. I take some Prestik from the desk, squeezing the tacky white goo between my fingers, warming it up before sticking the card down. A weight lifts from my chest as I set a new intention. After Ann, after everything, I know what I have to do next. Liewe Heksie seems like a good place to start.