Hjælp til oversættelse - Det giver ingen mening:/

 Heij, jeg skal til engelsk eksamen på tirsdag og har været igang med at skrive resumé om tekstopgivelserne. Der er dog en af teksterne som jeg overhovedet IKKE kan oversætte for, for mig giver det ingen mening. Derfor håber jeg på at der er nogen gode engelsk - dansk oversættere som evt ville hjælpe mig?

Det skal lige siges at teksten er et uddrag fra en roman:-)

- Jeg sætter 110% taknemlighed på til den som vil hjælpe mig.. På forhånd tak:)

Men her kommer teksten:

Tsotsi
His name was Gumboot Dhlamini and he had been chosen. But he never knew until it was too late. They gave him no warning.

“Maxulu,” he had said a thousand miles away, standing on the side of the road with his wife, “Maxulu, I will be back.” The white man had pointed along the road to Sabata’s place as the way to the Golden City, so he started walking that way. His wife stood and watched him for a long time and later when she got tired, because she was heavy with child, she sat down on the grass and he saw her like that until the road took him over the hill, and he remembered her like that ever since.

He had also asked the white man how many days it would take and the white man had said he reached the city travelling two days in his motor car, which of course was faster than walking. Anyway, he started counting and when he reached ten and could count no further he made a notch in his stick. Thereafter he made a notch in his stick every time he had counted another ten. There were quite a few notches in his stick when he broke it killing a snake and had to throw it away. So he stopped counting.

In the city he found work on the mines and a room in one of the townships, and for a year he had been travelling from the one to the other in the early morning, with many others on the crowded trains, to work, and back in the evening, with the same people on the same trains, to sleep. He travelled safe for a year because he followed the advice of others, and in that same year he worked hard and earned well and wore through the new shoes he had bought on the road, and had them mended, then wore through them again and then through them again and bought a new pair.

In some ways the year was a short one, and in others it was long, especially when he remembered Maxulu sitting on the side of the road and he got him a man who could make words to do him a letter back home. And now at last the year was almost over. In a week, only one more week of early steaming mornings and work under the ground, he would be going back with the money he had saved.

But on that Friday night going back to the township, a week before going home, Butcher was behind him and Butcher knew the position of the heart.

Gumboot had made three mistakes. Firstly, he smiled and Tsotsi noticed him because that smile was as white as light.

His second mistake was the tie. He had bought the tie at lunchtime from the Indian hawker who brought his cart of scarves and beads and bangles and bright things to the mine gate every Friday, bought simply because he had never had one and it would surely impress Maxulu. But it was a bright tie and made it easy for Tsotsi to follow him at a distance as the queue moved to the ticket office.

And there, the third mistake. He bought the ticket with money from his pay packet. He had forgotten an important piece of advice for getting home safe on the Friday night train – don’t let anyone see your money.

And now in the train, jammed in with as many as the coach could hold, going home in a smell of hard work and tobacco smoke, his ears as full as his nose with the low murmur of tired voices, himself impatient because the writing man was coming to his room at six-thirty and there was still a half-hour walk from the station, and in between all this thinking of Maxulu, then his tie, and seeing it crumpled by the rush to get in, wanting to straighten it but finding with slow surprise that he could not move either arm.

He never had time to register the full meaning of that moment. He tried a second time, but Die Aap was strong.

Tsotsi smiled at the growing surprise on the big bastard’s face, waiting for and catching the explosion of darkness in the eyes as Butcher moved the spoke up and into his heart.

Die Aap still had his arms locked around the man’s waist. As the body fell the other three crowded in and with the combined pressure of their bodies held it upright, a move unnoticed in the crowded coach. Boston, who was nearest, put his hand into the pocket and took out the pay packet.

When the train pulled into the station the crowd made a second move for the door, as happened every night, and the few on the station who wanted to go further up the line battled their way against this flood to get into the coaches, as also happened every night, but the train did not pull away, as happened occasionally on Friday nights, because those left behind on the coach and the few who got in found Gumboot Dhlamini and saw the end of the bicycle spoke.