‘Razor Ribbon, Koekie Strydom speaking, how can I help you?’

‘I need an urgent quote for security fencing …’

‘Your name and address please?’

‘No 105 Crescent Avenue, Houghton. I’m Mrs Somdaka. S-O-M-D-A…’

‘Somdaka – that's that famous lawyer. I’ve heard of him. I thought you guys would be very secure in those Crescent Complexes. How about four this afternoon - is that good for you?’ Koekie queries.

‘Four ‘o clock is good, I need to exchange some Guccis in Sandton first - eish, you know, people just don't make things like they used to. I’ll be back by four … I tell you, only the perimeter is secured, only the perimeter. Once inside, it's up to us to make a plan.

‘No problems … I’ll see you at four Mrs Somdaka.’

‘Thanks. I’ll organise with the guards at the gate. What car will you be driving so that I can let them know?’

‘I’ve got a big white 4 X 4 Isuzu bakkie – they can't miss it – it's got a moerse lot of razor ribbon on the back … a black steel tool-box and two big dogs, a longhaired white …’

‘Hayi khona, can I ask that you leave the dogs at home? They won't be safe here - siriyasi. It's a bit complicated. Eish! I’ll explain later.’

‘Okay – not a problem Mrs Somdaka – you’re the boss. See you then.’

‘Trapped! That's how we live,’ Koekie mutters to herself. ‘Moer – must be some place if even the dogs aren't bloody safe … What a life. Not even security complexes, high walls and electric fences are sufficient to ensure a girl's safety. Still they come; raping, pillaging, abducting, murdering. Houses surrounded by masses of steel; Trellidor gates, dripping with security signs! Dog eats dog, hey?’ Signs are everywhere:

As the owner of a Security Fence company, Koekie has her time cut out for her. Floral dresses are not Koekie's style. They make her feel naked. Her usual daily attire comprises a cellphone, T-shirt, tight fitting jeans with a hardy pair of wire cutters strapped to her side in a leather pouch, tape measure at the hip, and a pair of army boots, hand-me-downs from her older brother.