It was supposed to be just another day in the Nelspruit Regional Court.
And then I got that funny feeling – someone was staring at me.
It was about to get worse.
“What do you do?” she asked me. “I’m a journalist with Lowveld Media,” I replied.
Her facial expression changed.
“There’s a woman there. She once wrote about me,” she said. “I call her the white witch.”
It dawned on me: The woman staring at me was a translator I had met once, in 2015.
She was translating court proceedings in a criminal case. Suddenly, the translator became emotional and addressed the magistrate directly – this is not something that usually happens in court. “Men like these (the accused) are rude and some of them had screamed at me in court,” she complained.
A heavy silence filled the courtroom.
Our sister publication, Lowvelder, ran the story.
Back to 2017 and the realisation I was having: I was her white witch. She had no idea she was talking about me, to me.
The woman continued: “The white witch put me on the newspaper’s front page,” she claimed. This never happened. “And I have been without work since,” she continued. Before I could correct her on both issues, she proceeded to predict the future.
According to the translator, years of illness and a painful death awaits me.
She also claimed that “the courts know to chase any journalist from a courtroom when she is present.”
“Who knew it was that easy to negate the Constitution?” I thought.
I will not identify the woman, because I don’t do online naming and shaming.
Just a notice to journalists: only a presiding officer can ask you to leave a courtroom or prevent you from publishing what happens there. If anyone else tries that, hand them a copy of the Constitution.
Also read:
Donderdag – die blog. Oor menswaardigheid.
Suspect breaks security gate to access local business.
