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you looked nowadays you could not find ones like the Zulu kings of the past.
    Francina smiled at her daughter, who had sat in silence for most of the way to Cape Town, thinking no doubt of her sick aunt. Today might hold a major shift of direction in the history of Francina’s own little family. Would she be able to change the course of events, or would the ties she had to her daughter be insignificant compared with the ties of blood?
    Cape Town no longer seemed the innocent city where Francina and her family had whiled away happy hours wandering through museums and browsing at outdoor markets. Now it threatened to be forever remembered as the site where the family that Francina had waited half her life for had slipped from her grasp. Johannesburg would seem joyful in comparison. She squeezed her daughter’s knee. Zukisa’s worried smile only made Francina more uneasy.
    The area where Zukisa’s aunt lived was undergoing a halfhearted renovation. The blocks of government-subsidized flats were being given coats of fresh paint, teams of municipal workers were attacking the graffiti that lay over the neighborhood like cobwebs, and potholes were being patched. The local government’s efforts had been spurred by vocal residents who, sick and tired of the gang activity in the area, had vowed to take the law into their own hands if the authorities didn’t act. In other sections of the city, similar groups had burned down houses where suspected drug dealers lived, and so, wanting to avoid such actions, the authorities had promised more frequent police patrols and had thrown in the renovation as an act of good faith.
    Hercules parked next to the stairwell that led to Zukisa’s aunt’s flat. Extra police patrols or not, Francina knew that he would worry about his car until the visit was over.
    Zukisa led the way, taking the stairs two at a time. She had already knocked on her aunt’s door by the time Francina caught up. From inside came the sound of a blaring television. Zukisa’s aunt’s grandsons would never do well at school with the amount of television they watched.
    Zukisa knocked louder. Still there was no answer. Hercules tried the door. It was unlocked. Francina reminded herself to scold those boys. Imagine leaving the front door unlocked in a neighborhood such as this. Francina and Hercules looked at their daughter. It was her decision whether to enter the flat uninvited. Zukisa pushed open the door.
    What Francina noticed first was the smell. Zukisa led them into the kitchen and closed the open cupboard doors. In the sink, a pile of dishes was stacked precariously on top of a roasting pan filled with rancid fat, the source of the stench. Francina rolled up her sleeves and began removing the dirty dishes so she could fill the sink with hot water. Hercules gave her a rueful smile, recognizing this as the first of many contributions his wife would make today, and then followed Zukisa into the living room.
    After putting the rancid fat into a plastic bag and sealing it, Francina quickly realized that the roasting pan and dishes would not come clean without a long soak in soapy water. When the sink had filled with hot water, she dried her hands on her dress, since the dish towel was crusted with old food, and hurried to join her daughter and husband.
    She found them in the living room, attending to the youngest of Zukisa’s aunt’s grandchildren, five-year-old Fundiswa. The little girl was eating peanut butter out of a jar with a spoon and watching men wearing only tight pants and masks fight each other in a ring surrounded by thousands of screeching fans. Francina picked up the seat cushions from the floor and put them back on the couch. Zukisa had ascertained from Fundiswa that the boys had not returned since going out the previous night, and that her aunt was sleeping. From the child’s delight at seeing Zukisa, it was obvious that the little girl spent a lot of time on her