Poor Sammy felthorrible, having his buns tanned in front of all those staring cons.His knees buckled and he hung from the cuffs. Danzig lit up a cig...rand puffed on it contentedly, proud of the pain and humiliation he hadinflicted."Please," he whispered to Danzig. "I still have that disgusting tastein my mouth. At least let me rinse and spit." What?" Danzig pretended not to be able to hear him. "You'll have tospeak up, sugar britches." He took a long draw on his cigar.Sammy calmed himself. To anybody unfamiliar with white Afrikaans culture, to start speaking to anyone, without first introducing yourself, is the height of rudeness. Raised in a fifty-fifty, English and Afrikaans-speaking family, I was familiar with this practice.“I’m Gary," I answered.Wikus then went on to tell me that he was from up north, and with the new dispensation in South Africa, jobs were scarce for white men like him. His tone was not bitter but manifested a rueful acquiescence that things are what they. End of Day 1Day 2The next morning, I went out at first daylight; and, when I open my front door, there was Momma cat coming home from ... somewhere across the street ... and heading down my property line for the brush pile. I grabbed some caned chicken and went out to see how her & her 2 kittens were doing.Long story, short: they were still weak, but otherwise fine.I stopped back by several times that day to check on them, drop off some chicken & ham from the frig, and put out a large bowl of. The meat was much moister than the breast, although we always solved that with lots of gravy.That night I asked Henry what he wanted to do. He responded by asking if I’d ever gone bowling? I hadn’t, but why not? Henry deserved a treat for all he’d done with my family. Reluctantly, I asked Lisa if she’d like to join us; she met us there with a date. Like most of hers, he was a jock—an end on the football team and a sprinter for track. We had a little bet—losers buy sundaes at Friendly’s. .