Parting Shot

The book: Mike Nicol's new novel, Killer Country. The setting: Rhodes Memorial, Cape Town. The context: a hired assassin, Spitz, is being briefed by Sheemina February, a crooked lawyer who works for big-time baddie Obed Chocho. The job: murder the wife of Chocho's rival, Mace Bishop.

The catch: use a knife.

Spitz protests. A pistol, he says, at least. February reminds Spitz, an elegant man in black polished shoes, about his past: "Your trademark. No noise. Spitz the silent steps out of the shadows and ssssh the blade slits open the jugular."

Yes, recalls Spitz: "When I used knives I was a younger person."

As in fiction so in real life. In March, 17-year-old Ntshikilelo Mangolothi, a pupil at Masibambisane High School in Delft, was fatally stabbed by a 16-year-old pupil after a disagreement. In April, Alicia Muller, 16, died in a knife attack while on her way to school in Villiersdorp, in the Overberg district. Two instances out of thousands.

How does one make sense of these acts of violence? Photographer Dale Yudelman proposes that we stop, look and acknowledge the instruments of harm. You can do this by attending his exhibition, Made in R.S.A., at Cape Town's Worldart gallery, where he has installed 15 photos of knives either retrieved from crime scenes or confiscated during police searches (on until May 20).

"The knives belong to a person who teaches individuals and corporate groups advanced conflict protection and other related aspects of personal safety," says Yudelman. "These she keeps in a bucket as exhibits, in order for students to fully comprehend the nature of what they would be up against if confronted with a knife-wielding attacker."

Does he have a favourite knife?

"As objects I find them all interesting," he says. "I can't say I have a favourite knife, but rather one of my least favourites would be the well-known South African Okapi."

Originally made in Solingen, Germany, from 1902 until 1987, for use in colonial Africa, this folding knife has since 1988 been produced locally. The serrated edges on the knife here are a user-defined modification.

Seeing the object up close allows one to explore "the psyche of the faceless individual" who tucked it into their pocket, intending the unforgivable.