Here they are, about 8,000 black men (and some women and children), their bags strapped to their backs, other belongings clasped firmly in their hands.

From the Witwatersrand showgrounds where they spent the night camping, waiting for the break of dawn, they pour into the centre of Johannesburg. From there, like bats out of hell, they hurtle towards the wide wagon track that rolls towards the East Rand. Once they are out of town proper, it is midmorning. The sun is shining in their eyes. Their faces are bathed in sweat.

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