“Then why didn’t we run away sooner?” I wondered. “Why couldn’t you take me away from her?”
“And leave the rest behind?” He tried to make me look at him but I could not. “There were so many to protect!”
“But I was the most important!” I yelled angrily. “She hurt me the most, Father! Why could you not protect me first?”
He grabbed my chin and forced me to look into his eyes. “You were always first, but I was a single man against the world.”
I woke again. And once again, my sobs were met with drink. I wanted to open my eyes again to see Sechele, to comfort him if I could. But once again only the captain was present. His eyes bored into mine.
I dropped into sleep and into Father’s arms. He rocked me as I cried away years of hurt. Softly, quietly, tiny feet approached us. I looked up into the eyes of my Anna.
She had grown! She had to be almost five years old now! Her hair had lengthened into beautiful, natural curls that glowed in the golden sunlight. Behind her, her mother stood perfectly healthy and blissful. They both remembered me. I could see it in their faces.
I righted myself to see them, still remaining on Father’s lap. I cried in joy now at seeing her. She had been in my mind every day since she had died, I had missed her so terribly. She continued to walk timidly to me as I continued to cry. I doubted I could ever stop now.
“Hello,” she spoke sweetly. I wiped my eyes roughly with my hands to see her more clearly.
“Hello,” I answered. She smiled at me. I continued the conversation. “Are you well?”
She giggled. “Of course!” she said, shaking her head. I smiled at that.
“And your mother? Is she all right as well?” I asked. Her mother took a few steps forward in response. I looked into her face. It was as if she had never seen hardship.
“We are well,” she answered.
“I cannot tell you how happy that makes me,” I said, tears still covering my face.
They both smiled and I tucked myself into Father’s chest and breathed in the relief.
A small hand touched my face. Then reality returned.
My eyes came open easier this time. It was Motsatsi, his hand on my wet cheek. I turned my face and gave his hand a quick kiss. That made him smile. The rough hands held my head again to give me drink.
“Just a moment,” I whispered. The hands froze, but one remained under my head. “Hello Motsatsi,” I said.
“Hello,” he responded. He had been crying as well.
I responded to his grief. “Are you quite well?” I asked him.
“Of course!” he responded, almost mad. “You saved us.”
“All the children?” I asked further. “Everyone is safe?”
He nodded miserably. My battered hand reached up to wipe away a tear. It was amazing the pain the simple move produced. I flinched in surprise, and the captain forced me to drink again. In that space between reality and dreaming I smiled at Motsatsi and whispered again.
“I am well too. I am healing,” I whispered, and I was asleep again.
I still sat wrapped in Father’s arms. Anna and her mother surrounded me. Somehow I was done crying and sat happily as they all created a circle of healing around me. An eternity in bliss passed by me.
“There is one more you need to allow into this circle, my dear,” Father spoke into my ear. I jerked my head up, racking my brain for anyone else in the world I wanted here.
“Who?” I asked him.
I looked into my father’s face. He was so familiar to me. His eyes were deep set and his nose was broad. His forehead was tall and held inside wisdom I had not even begun to understand.
“It is someone you must come to understand,” he told me.
“No!” I begged him, “Please don’t send me back. I want to stay, I don’t want to work anymore,”
“The work left to do will bring you joy,” he promised me. That halted my pleadings. And I simply stared into his face—willing my mind to remember it forever.
I opened my eyes for a fraction of a second.
The captain had been with me through it all. I peered deep into his eyes and for a long moment we said nothing, we just enjoyed a moment of clarity and understanding.
At last, I slept without dreaming.
I was back to reality now, and this time I felt it was permanent. In the midst of my body healing itself, my mind had begun to heal itself as well. I was now more whole, more me. I could take a breath without the thought of little Anna’s limp body wracking my chest. My mind was clear and focused. I had won.
I was silent, but I looked around the room.
It was a bright, still, and familiar atmosphere. My mind and body had quieted at last. The thick, thatched roof over my head, supported by whitewashed walls, painted by David so long ago. All that I possessed sat at the foot of my bed. Not much survived of the overflowing chest I had brought with me to Kolobeng.
I turned my head to view my caretaker. He sat in a chair that looked unstable and most uncomfortable. His head rested precariously on one shoulder, his coat turned backward to cover his arms and chest. It took me some time to recognize the man I thought I knew. This man had sat by my side for what must have been days, at least. Now I looked on him as First Mate Anderson must have so long ago. He was akin to an innocent little boy when he slept.
The captain awoke, startled to see my eyes open and gazing at him. He threw off his coat and stumbled to my side to feel my forehead with his rough hands. I kept my eyes on him. As soon as he woke, the rough lines around his mouth and forehead instantly appeared. As soon as he was satisfied with my temperature, he sat back on his heels and let out a deep sigh.
“It’s about time,” he said sharply.
In my pathetic, frail state all I could do was furrow my own brow, wondering what exactly he meant. Before I could even contemplate a response, Mary entered the room. Having heard the captain’s exclamation, she rushed in and also put her hands on my forehead in assessment. As if purposefully mimicking the captain, she sighed in relief.
“My sentiments mirror yours, sir,” she told him.
The sight of Mary startled me, her now much larger belly being a symbol of how long I had been unconscious.
“Mary,” I said warily. “How long has it been?” I almost did not want to know the answer, because it would represent how torn up my body truly had been.
She took a moment to look at the captain and they exchanged a quick, silent conversation. Why was Mary consulting with the captain?
“Four weeks,” she answered.
The amount of time I had laid completely useless made my heart ache. That Mary had to do so many chores, while she was obviously still sick, was devastating. Robert and Agnes must have been traumatized by my still form in their room for so long, unable to play as they liked. But it was the loss of water that was the hardest to consider. I realized that Mary would have used a larger portion of our daily rations to help me heal. The evidence was in my fully hydrated throat. To deprive a pregnant woman and her two small children of water that was already scarce was absolutely deplorable, no matter the circumstances. I suddenly wished I had died the instant the lion sank his teeth into me.
I started to cry. The tears rolled down my cheeks, proving that I had sufficient water inside me. It made me cry all the more.
Seeing it, the captain and Mary jumped and started evaluating me. Mary pulled back bandages on my shoulder, trying to find the reason for my tears.
Robert and Agnes took this moment to run at their top speed into the room.
“Miss Anna is awake!” Robert cried, ecstatic. He came to my side and I turned my head away from him to hide my tears. After he spoke my name several times, I began to feel a fresh wave of guilt that I was ignoring him. I turned my head to survey the damage I remembered: the cracked lips, the sunken eyes, and that awful look of general loss of fluid.
To my bewilderment, his lips were pink, healthy, and entirely missing of cracks. His eyes were wide
, bright, and shining blue. No sign of dehydration touched his face. Next I considered Agnes who toddled behind. She never looked so healthy, so well fed. Had she gained weight while I slept? Her little dimples were deeper.
I jerked my head back to Mary, who knew what I was going to ask.
“It rained,” she spoke reverently. “And also, the people of the tribe …” she started to explain but then was suddenly unable to speak.
I was amazed. Mary? Emotional? Begging for an explanation with my eyes, I turned to the captain.
“The people of the tribe have been supplying us with daily water from their personal supplies,” he explained more fully. “It has been all we could do to keep this room clear of people wanting to give you their rain water.”
Chills began at the peak of my head, resonated in my legs, and reached my toes. Not only had it rained while I slept, but the people had wanted to share their portion of blessings with me. They forgave the witch who took care of her little ones.
And so, I did the only rational thing a capable, well-educated woman can do in such a moment.
I cried some more.
I received several more visitors that day, despite Mary’s and the captain’s protests that I should rest. Motsatsi was absolutely unstoppable. He brought me a lovely shining apple.
“Motsatsi, where did you get this?” I asked in perplexity.
“Never you mind,” he spoke dismissively. “You will eat it and become well again.”
It felt like years since I had held fresh fruit. I could not bear to eat it, so I set it aside.
“I want you to tell me what happened, Motsatsi,” I implored.
He shrugged his small, yet strong, shoulders.
“There is not much to say. Some of our men were out hunting and a few lions began making their way toward town. They took it upon themselves to kill the leader to try and save the village, but the big one, he got away and bit you,” he would not look at me as he spoke. I knew it had been a traumatic experience for him.
“And no one else was hurt?” I asked him quietly.
He shook his head and I could not help but notice his eyes were brimming with tears. My little soldier was sad he could not save me. It made my eyes brim over as well.
Though it caused me great discomfort, I reached out and took his hand. He still looked down, the picture of tragic self-loathing.
“I feel so very grateful that I could save you, Motsatsi,” I told him. “Even if I take years to recover, I would do it again.” He still would not look at me. I paused. “Do you know that?”
He nodded his head and tears ran off his cheeks and onto the floor.
There was water everywhere today.
At that moment, I heard a commotion outside. The sound worked its way farther and farther into my head until the noise became almost uncomfortable. A strong, capable voice spoke from the door of our home. The voice was speaking in Sechuana, but it was not David. Another tribesman perhaps.
Soon the sound came inside the house, and I watched in amazement as the room filled to capacity with members of the village. A month ago if these same tribes people had filled this room, I would have assumed it would be to end my pesky existence. I felt silly laying there so still, unable to move, while they all peered down at me. However, from this perspective I could quietly take in their expressions, and there was no hostility.
Last to enter the room was my chief. Sweat was pouring off his temples, because despite the blazing heat, he was dressed in a wide, orange straw hat, a Mackintosh overcoat, and possibly the largest water boots I had ever beheld, with added tassels and a buckle.
Oh, how I had missed him.
Despite his unconventional appearance, he spoke with authority.
“Miss Anna,” he addressed me formally. “You saved our lives by wounding yourself. Henceforth, our hearts are yours.”
To my dismay, he removed his hat, placed it over his chest, and bent his head to a slight degree.
I was about to tell him, embarrassed, that there was no need. My plea was silenced by the quiet respect of every other person in the room. Their dark, uncovered heads lowered before me in a wave. I knew very well how beloved their children were to them. It was not only that I had faced the threatening animal, but that I had placed myself between him and their children. Would I not also bow at the feet of anyone that rescued my Robert or Agnes?
I squeezed Motsatsi’s hand tighter for support, before I whispered, “As your hearts are mine, so does mine belong to you. Thank you.”
Motsatsi spoke up and translated my words. A few faces looked up at me with guilt on their faces. They knew they had been wrong about me. Although I had wished they could have come to this realization on their own, I found that I did not want them to feel guilty for how they had treated me. How could I be upset with them when I had provided a perfect avenue for them to vent their frustrations at the lack of water. I would have wanted someone to blame as well. But I secretly wished their forgiveness could have come without such great pain.
Selemeng took the opportunity to step forward now and kneel by my bedside. She gave me a long and warm hug, the tears dripping off her cheeks just like her son’s. As she pulled away, the gratitude on her face was clear.
“May we move forward now?” I asked tentatively. “As friends?”
“As friends,” Selemeng agreed, and I was awarded by a room full of sincere smiles.
The captain jumped in at this moment, I had not realized he had been standing at the door this entire time. It was not that he jumped into this conversation that startled me, it was that he rattled off in perfect, clear, and fluent Sechuana. His words were so fast I did not catch a single word from his speech, but quickly it was over and it had a great impact on the people, who all stood, gave me tender little smiles, and exited my room without another word. Even Motsatsi let go of my hand and headed to the door as if the captain pulled him physically. Did he have authority with them?
I was left to observe my caretaker. I had so many questions for him. He spoke as if it had been easy for him, when I still could not say more than a few words myself, after months of living among these people. It appeared as if the Bakwena knew him, or at least were comfortable with him. Was it possible he had lived here before me? I knew he had been missing for some time after his wife’s death. I had assumed he was sailing on his ship around the world, but perhaps not.
And there was another point of question. Where was his ship? Docked in Durban? Had he returned to London and then right back to our port? That seemed especially peculiar. Had the Missionary Society sent more supplies? I almost literally jumped at the possibility of fresh linens, cool water, and new school supplies. Had he come here to deliver them? I disliked my lack of information.
He was preparing my sleeping drink on the washstand, and as soon as he finished, came toward me with the putrid stuff. I shook my head, wanting to delay the sleeping for just a moment longer.
“It sounds as if you have many stories to tell me,” I probed. “It is a fortunate coincidence since I have nowhere to go.”
He did not find me amusing. He spoke with a straight face. “How are you feeling?”
His question reminded me. “It is difficult to move, I confess. And I cannot feel my fingers.”
“I would almost say you deserved it, for standing in front of a charging lion.” His words were harsh, but his tone was somehow sympathetic. I cocked my head, confused, as he continued. “The doctor wondered if that would be the case.”
I assumed he meant David.
“Where is he?” I asked. I wanted David to examine me and see if I was healing properly.
“Gone,” he said bluntly. There was obvious irritation in his voice.
“Where did he go?”
He sighed. Looking at the floor, he warred within himself. His hesitation told me something was wrong. He was not one to treat my feelings delicately.
“What happened?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
He squared his
shoulders and, with a deep breath, turned to face me.
“Doctor Livingstone and Mebalwe are on a peace crusade, of sorts,” he said.
“A peace crusade to whom?” I asked, although the dread in my gut suspected the answer.
“The Boers,” he informed me. “They have declared war on Sechele and his people.”
Chapter 20
Despite my friends’ arguments, I could not help but feel that I was the cause of the sudden and forceful hostilities of the Boers. Our neighbors were still desperate for water and supplies, and the money my mother promised was still too tempting to resist. I was so surrounded by good people, however, that any attempts to give myself over to the Boers would have been easily thwarted, not to mention my inability to walk or take care of myself.
My caretaking fell to the captain. I could not be sure if this was because of obligation or genuine concern. Whatever the reason, he was proficient in the calling. His years as the captain and doctor of his ship had lent him experience, this I knew. However, as he attended to me, a gleam of suspicion and fear would occasionally cloud his features. He would look upon me in such a peculiar way that I finally spoke my mind.
“You look at me as if you expect me to scream and run about the room,” I said.
My words seemed to physically affect him. As if I had stood and shoved his chest with both hands. He appraised me with a startled expression.
I could not think of how to react, so I simply said, “I won’t.”
He kept staring at me, his eyes wide. After a few moments, he relaxed.
“I know,” he whispered.
My mind went to Marianne, his wife and my friend. I knew she had been sick near the end, and I had to ask …
In Spite of Lions Page 22
