The final moments of Emmanuel Sithole
It was around 7am and Alexandra township in Johannesburg was just beginning to buzz.
The area had just come out of a night of attacks and looting of foreign-owned shops.
Many traders had lost everything during last Friday night’s attack. Emmanuel Sithole had earlier told a friend: “If they come for me they’ll get nothing. I have nothing.”
It was while Sithole was sitting at his little stall the following morning when the four young men first emerged.
Light, confident in their swagger they came down the road sharing beer quarts between them.
Then one reached down to his table covered with sweets, chips and gwaai (cigarettes).
He picked up a packet of Courtleighs, shook it to make sure it was full and pocketed it. Sithole, wasn’t paying attention.
From his vegetable stall nearby Fabian Gomes warned: “Emmanuel. Pay attention to your customers.”
The young man in front of Sithole’s stall now picked up another packet, this time Stuyvesants.
Again, he shook the packet, made sure it was full, and pocketed it. He and his three friends started walking away.
This was not an uncommon event. Young men especially would try this, picking up an item and walking away without paying.
The vendor would pursue them and the thief would either hand back what he’d taken or pay up.
And it happened often to Shangaans, who suffered verbal abuse from South African Alexandra residents.
Now Sithole emerged from behind his stall, following the young men, asking for his cigarettes back.
At least two of the young men had participated in the looting of foreign-owned shops the night before. Roofs were ripped open, security gates pulled from their hinges, as the spree continued into the wee hours. Fires were set, nearby residents robbed, portable toilets overturned and litter strewn along the length of some streets.
The party wasn’t over yet.
Sithole approached them. "I don’t want trouble, just give me my money", he begged.
“Voetsek Shangaan! Let's take all of this stuff! It belongs to a Shangaan. Don’t come talk shit here,” one of the young men was heard saying.
They grabbed Sithole, pouring beer over his head. He tried to run but a blow from the wrench felled him. He tried to grab a loose stone, to fight back.
Then came the Okapi knife. "Please, please," some passersby pleaded. "Don’t stab him." Sithole was beaten and stabbed during the attack by these four young men — as other traders screamed for them to stop.
"Just give him back his cigarettes." Finally, they stopped and Sithole stumbled across the road.
A friend shouted for him to come over to him. He did. But the four came again. “Run! Run Emmanuel!” the traders shouted.
Sithole ran up Alfred Nzo Street, into First Avenue. But his pursuers were swift, catching up with him no more than 100 metres from where the stall was.
This was where the Sunday Times encountered him.
A little more than an hour later, on a gurney at Edenvale Hospital, Emmanuel Sithole was declared dead.