But Deliver Us from Evil

by Lauri Kubuitsile

  ‘How can I? They’ll chase my mother from Ntsweng if they hear she’s speaking about bewitching. They could kill her for organising such things. She’s all I have. And now she’s convinced Seabe that I must do this thing and Seabe’s troubling me too. Night and day, they’re telling me to talk to this man … to do this thing. I can’t take it any more.’

  ‘You must just tell them no, that you’ll not do it.’

  Motsumi lays his head in her lap. She rubs it gently and he soon calms down.

  ‘You’re right. I won’t do it,’ he says. ‘They can’t force me, can they?’

  ‘No, they can’t.’ Nthebolang speaks confidently even though she’s unsure of everything. She wants Motsumi to calm down. Could they want to bewitch Baatweng – he’s only a boy – just because of the chieftainship? It isn’t even to be the chief of the entire nation; it’s only a kgotla. Could people be that greedy? That cruel? She knows the answer, but wishes she didn’t.

  Motsumi sits up and takes her in his arms. She lays her head on his chest.

  ‘One day you’ll be my wife and my life will be perfect,’ he says. ‘You and I are meant to be together – I knew it that first day I saw you. Do you remember when I spoke to you?’

  Nthebolang says nothing. She remembers, but she likes hearing him tell her the story. She wants to hear it again. She wants to know that he remembers everything, that he remembers how he promised he would marry her. He seems to have forgotten now that bogadi has been paid for Seabe. Now that Seabe is involved with his mother in plans for his future, it’s obvious that he sees Seabe as his wife. Nthebolang pushes these thoughts from her mind and tries to focus on Motsumi’s story of the time before when he loved only her.

  She must face the truth, though: he’s going to marry someone else; traditionally he’s already married in fact. She tries to not think about that. Tonight she wants their love story to be the only story for her; tonight she wants to pretend the world is how it was so long ago when they were just children and he said she would be his wife. Tonight she does not want to think about evil and witchcraft or about the wife who waits for him at home.

  He kisses her and she kisses him back. The usual urge she feels for him rises up. She wonders if telling his mother he’ll not be involved in her schemes will be enough to free him from Seabe. She wonders, too, seeing how upset he is, if he’ll be able to tell his mother anything. She knows him well and doubts he has the strength.

  Nthebolang knows Motsumi’s mother well too. She’s one of the women in the village who feels that the missionaries bring them nothing but trouble. The reputation that Nthebolang and her mother arrived with in Ntsweng was bad enough, and then they worked at the mission and prayed at the Christians’ church. Mma Motsumi wants nothing to do with Nthebolang and expects Motsumi to stay away from her. She’s a tough, strong woman, used to being listened to and to having her own way. Nthebolang wonders how Motsumi will get her to listen to him about Baatweng or even about Seabe. She knows Motsumi doesn’t stand a chance against his mother when her mind is set.

  ‘Maybe you should start coming to church, maybe even get baptised,’ Nthebolang says. ‘I think that might help you with your mother.’

  ‘Why? You know I don’t believe in any of that.’

  ‘But you could change. The church could protect you. It could give you the reasons why you cannot be part of your mother’s plan. Christians don’t believe in those things.’

  ‘I don’t think anyone would accept it. They know me, know that I believe in our ways. I’m not a Christian. ‘

  ‘People can change.’

  ‘I’ll think about it. But it doesn’t matter, I’ll not be part of my mother’s plan, I promise. And I’m done with Seabe. I’m going to speak to my uncle. He won’t like to hear that Seabe has been pushing me to see this man. She’s too greedy; she wants too much. That isn’t a girl who will make a good wife. If she’s happy to be part of doing this to Baatweng, she’ll be happy to do it to me the next time. My uncle will understand.’

  ‘Who’s this man they want you to speak to?’ Nthebolang asks.

  ‘What does it matter?’ He pulls her on top of him. ‘Let’s forget all of this. I don’t want to think of any of it, not now. I’m done with it. I want you. I want you to make me forget.’

  He kisses her and she moves closer to him. He holds her tighter, pushing her dress up and putting her legs around him, her thighs hugging him on each side. She can feel him under his trousers, hard against her, and she breathes heavily in his ear. She cannot take much more of this. Soon it will be too far to go back. She has promised herself that this would be the last time she’d see him, that it’ll be over after tonight. Maybe this is the best night for things to go too far. After this it will all be gone, Nthebolang tells herself. Motsumi will no longer be part of her life.

  She lies back down on top of him. She can feel him opening his trousers. And then he is pushing her underclothes to the side and she feels him cold against her. She breathes shallowly, fearful of what she has decided.

  Then he is inside her and he whispers in her ear, ‘I love you more than you can ever know. I’ll love you forever. I promise.’

  She almost believes him. Does he really love her? Can she pull back her Motsumi dreams that she let go of and put them back in the place they have lived for so long? She can’t find the answers anywhere, though she pretends to herself that she has.

  He moves slowly, slowly, and everything is quiet around her while her body roars from within with desire. It’s wrong – she knows everything about it is wrong – but it’s the only thing she can do.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  They have no church building in Ntsweng. Instead, the people gather under the shade of the wide wild fig that grows in front of the mission house. The number of people attending services has increased since Thomas Milner arrived. The fact that he came with the rain has lured people to his side. They think maybe he’s a different kind of Christian, not a missionary here to destroy them; maybe, finally, he is one meant to help them in the way the previous missionaries had preached. Maybe Jesus is on the Bakwena’s side now with Thomas Milner as the new go-between. Most people never wanted to go against Kgosi Sechele in any case, but felt that their survival depended on it. Angering the ancestors made them poor and hungry, and what had his Jesus ever really done for them?

  But the ancestors seem to have blessed this one, this tall man with the flowing blond hair and big eyes. And he has a way of speaking. Already he no longer needs a translator. He speaks fluent Setswana; he doesn’t want his sermons watered down because of language issues.

  Thomas Milner’s sermons are the major reason people flock to the tree on Sundays. Even people who are known to despise Christians can be found there listening to his entertaining stories. Because of this, no one finds it unusual when Motsumi starts attending Sunday service. People think he only wants to hear the tales told so brilliantly by Thomas Milner. Today, Thomas Milner’s talking about Joseph and the many-coloured coat his father gave him.

  ‘Jacob did not hide that Joseph was his favourite son and this is where he made a mistake; this was where the problem set seed. When he gave Joseph that beautiful coat, he added fuel to an already-burning fire. His brothers were jealous, so jealous they set out to kill him,’ Thomas Milner says from the front.

  He’s made a rudimentary pulpit for himself and he stands behind it. On one side, Kgosi Sechele sits in the nicest chair brought out from the mission house. On the other side, on a wooden bench, sits Beatrice, smiling the bland smile she chooses to wear whenever she’s in the presence of Thomas Milner. Nthebolang knows that smile means she’s absent: she’s thinking of other things; she’s in another place altogether. Beatrice has only left that face behind for the benefit of anyone who’s watching her.

  Elizabeth sits with Nthebolang on a cloth spread out on the ground. Unlike other children, she never fidgets. She sits quietly, her hands folded and resting in her lap, listening to every word he
r father says.

  Nthebolang spots Motsumi sitting on the ground with the other men. He’s outside the circle of shade: there but not quite there, with them but not. When she looks at him, he smiles slightly with the corner of his mouth, a smile she knows is only for her to see. A secret smile alluding to secret things only the two of them are privy to. It reminds her of the night not long before when she finally gave in to him. She’s been thinking of little else since then. She knows it was wrong, a sin, but it doesn’t feel that way to her. To her, it feels like a lovely magic medicine that has calmed her and eased her worried mind.

  Nthebolang is glad Motsumi has taken her advice to come to church. She hadn’t seen him for the last two days and was wondering how he was. Seeing him there confirms that all’s well. She decides he must have sorted things out with his mother.

  ‘But though they were jealous of Joseph,’ Thomas Milner continues, ‘they still loved him. He was their brother; they could not kill him. Instead, they sold him into slavery. But it did not matter. Though Joseph’s life was difficult, God had a plan for him. He would rule – he would rule everyone, including his brothers, just as his dream had predicted. Somehow he would find his way out of slavery; somehow he would be free.’

  Nthebolang glances up at Beatrice and wonders if the message in Thomas Milner’s sermon resonates with her. Is she thinking of her place of freedom? Of her Kamogelo? Beatrice nods in a direction to the west of the gathering. Nthebolang looks where Beatrice indicates and sees nothing. But a few moments later Kgosi Sechele’s son Sebele appears, riding hard towards them.

  Thomas is interrupted when Sebele arrives. His horse has barely stopped when he jumps down and rushes to the front to Kgosi Sechele. He bends down and whispers into his father’s ear. As he speaks, the king’s face changes. Kgosi Sechele is a big man, a fierce-looking man even when he’s not upset, and when his face hardens at what he’s hearing, everyone grows quiet, waiting to hear the worst, for it is clear the worst is what has happened.

  Kgosi Sechele stands up.

  ‘Excuse me, Reverend Milner, there is a problem. Last night the Boers attacked the cattleposts west of here. They have taken cattle and women and children. They have created a big problem for us. We must leave for the kgotla immediately. We must decide how we will respond.’

  The service breaks up as everyone heads for the kgotla to hear what is to be decided. Beatrice takes Nthebolang’s hand and walks with her. She’s been watching her closely for some days and Nthebolang fears that she senses the change in her after what has happened with Motsumi. Beatrice knows such things, Nthebolang suspects. She doesn’t want to be forced to defend Motsumi again. She doesn’t think she’s able to, not after being with him in the way that she has. On the surface, with facts only, there’s nothing to justify her deciding to allow him to have what he wanted from her, to take her virginity. It’s just that she loves him, nothing more, and Nthebolang doubts such love will rate highly with Beatrice.

  She wants to ask Beatrice how she knew about the Boer attack, how she knew Sebele was arriving before he could be seen, but before she can ask, Beatrice whispers, ‘This might come in handy for Thomas and his guns.’

  Nthebolang stops and turns to look at Beatrice, but she only smiles and continues walking. Has she known about the guns all along? Nthebolang allows the crowd to pass her, walking slowly, wondering when Beatrice found out.

  She says nothing and instead looks through the crowd for Motsumi. She wants to hear how everything went, if his mother is leaving him alone now, if Seabe has been told she will not be his wife. If Baatweng is safe.

  She sees him speaking to one of his younger sisters, a girl from a junior wife in the family.. Nthebolang can’t remember her name. Motsumi speaks with her and then the girl runs off after the crowd. Motsumi looks Nthebolang’s way, not seeing her, though; his face looks full of worry, his mind obviously elsewhere. She goes to him.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ she asks.

  ‘It’s Baatweng. He was at the cattlepost when they attacked. Apparently they tried to fight back and he’s been shot. They’ve gone with the wagon to collect him. I must go.’

  Nthebolang steps back, uncertain. Baatweng? Why is Baatweng the one who has been shot? Of all people, why him? She wants to ask him if he has spoken to his mother, if he made her understand that he would not have anything to do with harming his brother, but he hurries away before she can speak. Could it be that Motsumi is not who she thinks he is? Was it really the Boers who shot Baatweng, or was something else involved?

  Nthebolang had thought that consummating their love the other night had brought them together and yet, as she watches him rushing off, she senses she’s not part of his life in any significant way at all. Is she just another foolish girl like the others who believe the lies boys tell them? Was she as insignificant as that? As common? Had she done like so many before her and handed over her virginity to a boy who’d tricked her? Is she now gone from Motsumi’s mind since he finally got what he wanted? Could she be that type of ignorant girl?

  Her alliances flow like water and she cannot find a sure footing. She can’t see clearly; everything is confused. What’s real? What can be counted on? Whom can she trust? Can she trust Motsumi? Or is Beatrice the one who is really looking out for her? Beatrice is the one who tried to warn her against Motsumi, but she would not listen. Now she has done this thing; now she’s ruined. Her mind is soft and malleable, no longer to be trusted.

  She heads to the main kgotla. She wants to hear what has happened. When she gets there, she sees that the people are spread out in a fan-shaped crowd extending from the half-circle wall of tree branches stuck in the ground that forms the back of the kgotla. Nearly the entire village is there. Nthebolang finds a place to the side near her mother.

  Kgosi Sechele stands and speaks in his deep, powerful voice.

  ‘Bagaetsho, we have once again been attacked by the Boers. They came into our country without authority. They have captured four women and eight children. They have killed one man and injured three. They have stolen fifty-seven head of cattle and many goats and sheep. I have tried my best to negotiate with the Cape government, to let them know our problem with their people here. They do not want to listen. They do not want to help. We must decide what to do.’

  People stand up and give their opinions, and Kgosi Sechele listens. Many are angry and speak with finality. It’s enough now, they say; we can no longer afford to be tolerant. They take our women and children to work as slaves in their homes and fields. How is that right? They take our cattle without compensation. We cannot allow this any longer.

  War talk breeds more war talk and each speaker is angrier than the one before. The fury is building like a towering storm cloud above the gathering.

  A smaller group prays for level-headed thinking. We know they have many guns, they say. Their commando units could kill all of us. They are well armed and merciless; we’ve seen this before. We need to attempt to negotiate. But the peace-speakers are not loud enough, not then, when emotions are so high, when blood has been spilled and loved ones stolen away. They are barely heard above the boiling rage and the heavy scent of battle.

  Kgosi Sechele listens to all sides as a good leader should. He speaks in calm-sounding words, but the meaning is chilling.

  ‘We will need to reclaim what we have lost. We are not under these people; they found us here. They settled in our country by our grace. They have no right to disturb us. We have not aggrieved them in any way. I have heard everything and I have decided that we will prepare to take back what is ours. May our ancestors be with us in our endeavours. I will ask Reverend Milner to pray to God to help us be successful.’

  Thomas Milner stands up. ‘Let us pray. God in heaven, please look upon us today in our troubles. Please know that we do everything in your name. We approach those who have wronged us with love and compassion, but they continue to ignore us and make war against us. We will enter this battle under your banner and we pray you w
ill lead us to success. Protect us against these evil men and deliver us to victory. We ask this of you, our loving Lord, Amen.’

  The gathering mumbles ‘Amen’ along with him and then disperses.

  Nthebolang looks across the kgotla and sees Mmapitse. As she watches the old woman, she feels eyes on her. She turns and there he is – it is Barobi. He looks at her until she turns away. When she looks back again, she sees Barobi and Mmapitse leaving the kgotla together.

  Nthebolang finds Beatrice walking away quickly, not heeding the sleepy Elizabeth she is dragging behind her. Nthebolang’s mother comes alongside her and rescues the small girl who has tried her best to keep up. ‘Here, let me take her.’

  Beatrice lets go of Elizabeth’s hand and continues without stopping. Nthebolang catches up with her. Thomas Milner has stayed behind with Kgosi Sechele and the other men. There are plans to draw up, and Kgosi Sechele wants Thomas Milner involved. No one seems to question why the missionary should be involved in such things. Most accept that the two men – the priest and the kgosi – have grown close. That’s enough of an answer for most people. Nthebolang knows otherwise.

  When she’s next to her, Beatrice says, ‘You were not surprised by what I said. So you knew about the guns?’

  ‘I saw something in the wagon, but I wasn’t sure.’

  Beatrice’s words are clipped and angry. She stops and hisses at Nthebolang, ‘Why didn’t you tell me at the time? You knew about the guns but you did not tell me. I waited but you stayed quiet. I thought we were friends. I thought we had no secrets, no lies – that’s what you promised.’

  ‘I didn’t want to worry you,’ Nthebolang tries. ‘It was not my business in any case. I didn’t know why he had guns … I wasn’t even sure that was what they were. What does it matter? Thomas Milner and his plans are nothing. We need to protect ourselves now. There are very dangerous people among us and I see now that they are working together.’