Upon arrival at this quaint and rustic place called Chloe, we were introduced to a man referred to as Molimi (the farmer) who seemed to have been in his mid forties. We later learnt that his real name was Meshack Khabo Mabuela. He was quite pleasant and courteous; a humble man – a typical old-world being – with an amiable disposition. His face was scarred by the harsh unforgiving hot and dry Northern Transvaal sun and he had a missing upper front tooth and a sparse moustache. Molimi was employed by the government to teach peasants farming methods at the Chloe sisal project. This was the gentleman who was going to be our supervisor during our period of banishment and to whom we would be accountable.

One of the policemen read out the banishment orders. Now we all knew what was expected. It was no longer a secret, known only to a select few but Baker and I were in on it. We knew how circumscribed our life in Chloe was intended to be. I was left with a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach for, in many ways, this was a more isolating life I was about to live – anything more different to the freedom I had harboured in my heart for so long would be hard to imagine.

After that, Molimi sat us down and, over coffee, welcomed us to Chloe. He expressed the desire to work with us harmoniously. And, I must say, he lived up to his words. For the whole time we were there he remained pleasant and never displayed any animosity towards us.

The policeman had left. Molimi then explained that he would be taking us to our accommodation.

He himself lived in a brick and mortar house with corrugated iron sheet roofing instead of the mud huts usual in the area. He explained why we were there and that we were not the first people to be brought to his area. He had, in the past, received people with political leanings who had seemed to be a bad influence on their communities, and there were a couple of rondavels that had been built in that area to house people who had been banished to Chloe.