Dying to Live

by Michael Stanley

  As soon as they’d greeted one another and asked after each other’s families, Ixau got down to business. Twi remembered the man who’d hired him but didn’t remember his name. The man had been curt and expected to be called “rra” in every sentence. The manager of the curio store had arranged the job, and Ixau realized that he should have asked him more questions.

  He took out the pictures and showed them to Twi, one by one. He kept Gampone for last, having decided that he was the likely candidate. When he saw the second picture, Twi reacted immediately. “Yes, that’s him. Thabo—yes, I remember his name now.”

  Ixau was very excited. “You’re absolutely sure? Why was he looking for Heiseb?”

  Twi shook his head. “He wasn’t exactly looking for Heiseb. He wanted to meet very old Bushmen with good stories to tell of the past. I thought of N’kaka, but Heiseb was far older, so that’s who he said we must find. He’s a professor? Why are you interested in him?”

  Ixau had no idea. “He’ll help with our inquiries,” he replied. “I’m not allowed to discuss these things, you know. The coffee here is good. Shall we get a sandwich?”

  * * *

  AS SOON AS they’d finished their snack and had said good-bye, Ixau phoned the assistant superintendent, excited to share his news. He first told Kubu about N’kaka and how he was an unreliable witness, and then how he’d tracked down Twi and obtained a positive identification of the professor.

  There was a short silence before Kubu responded. “Well done, Constable! That is excellent work. I’m very interested to hear about the professor. I’ve had my suspicions…” But he didn’t complete the sentence.

  “Thank you, sir,” Ixau replied. “I’ve very much enjoyed working for you. I hope, perhaps, it might be possible…” He hesitated and then rushed on. “Rra, I do nothing in New Xade all day, because there is nothing that needs to be done. I thought, perhaps, I could be trained to be a detective. Then I would be useful to the Police Service.”

  There was another pause, and Ixau feared he’d annoyed the senior officer. Then Kubu said, “I can’t promise anything, Constable, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  CHAPTER 36

  By the time Kubu returned home on Friday evening, he was feeling positive about the various cases. He was reasonably confident that the CCTV tape that had been delivered by a courier from the Chinese embassy was authentic and, surprisingly, the pictures of the man who had asked Chan to help with the paperwork were clear enough to make a positive identification, should they ever find him.

  In addition, newspaper reporters had eagerly listened to Mabaku’s press announcement that Gampone had been arrested on suspicion of being in possession of banned substances—which Mabaku had declined to identify—and that the police were investigating whether there was any connection between him and the murder of Kgosi Ramala. Kubu was sure that this news would make the front page of the weekend newspapers. He also believed that the press briefing would be covered on the various TV news broadcasts. He’d noticed several camera crews there, all eager for information on the murder of such a well-known man.

  Kubu’s thoughts on how to proceed with the case were interrupted when he opened the gate to his house and Ilia bounded up, yapping excitedly. After pawing Kubu’s leg, Ilia jumped into the Land Rover and sat on the passenger seat.

  “I’ll shut the gate, Daddy,” Tumi shouted, as she ran from the house.

  Kubu edged the car forward to the end of the short driveway, turned the engine off, and climbed out to give his daughter a hug.

  “Where’s Nono?” Kubu asked.

  “She was sick and we took her to the hospital.”

  Dammit! Why didn’t Joy call and tell me? Kubu wondered.

  He took Tumi’s hand and walked into the house. As soon as he was inside, Joy came running out of the kitchen and threw her arms around him.

  “I’m so worried. Nono’s back in hospital.” Tears streamed down her face.

  “What happened?” he asked, patting her on the back.

  “Just after you left this morning, she complained of being uncomfortable under her arms. I checked, and her glands were swollen, there and on her neck. She was also hot and sweating, so I took her temperature. It was over a hundred and one.” She stifled a sob. “Oh, darling, it was normal when she left hospital on Wednesday.”

  Kubu pulled Joy tighter. “It’s probably just a reaction to the new medication,” he said.

  Joy shook her head. “These are all signs the HIV is becoming AIDS. And the doctor called this afternoon and said her CD4 count was approaching two hundred. Below two hundred is AIDS.”

  “Oh, my darling. What else did she say?”

  “She thinks she must have an infection of some sort. They’ve been doing tests all afternoon. Oh, I’m so scared she’s not going to make it.”

  Kubu was at a loss as to how to comfort Joy—and himself, for that matter. So he hugged her more tightly.

  “Daddy, Daddy, hug me too,” Tumi shouted. “I want to be hugged.”

  Kubu and Joy separated a little so Tumi could squeeze in between them.

  “You don’t want a hug,” Kubu said with a smile. “You want a … big…” He paused dramatically. “Tumi sandwich.” He and Joy joined arms and enveloped the little girl.

  They stood like that for quite some time. “What are we going to do?” Joy asked.

  “She’s getting the best treatment available,” Kubu replied. “We must have faith in our doctors.”

  “And look at how many kids have died in this country.”

  “She’s not going to die. She’s a fighter.”

  “I think we should take her to Johannesburg. They’ve got the best doctors in Africa, and some are the best in the world.”

  “Darling, our doctors are just as good, just as experienced at dealing with HIV and AIDS.”

  “So why aren’t they making any progress with a cure?”

  “My darling, just look how far they’ve come in a few years with antiretrovirals. A few years ago HIV was a death warrant; now, millions live normal lives.”

  “But Nono’s getting worse. What good’s that doing her?”

  “Mommy, Mommy, is Nono going to die?” Kubu and Joy had both forgotten that Tumi was between them. “Will she meet Jesus?”

  Kubu pulled Tumi close to him. “Darling, she’s sick now, but she’s not going to die. She’ll be back with us any day now.”

  “Run off to your room,” Joy said. “Daddy and I need to talk some grown-up talk. Go on. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

  Tumi looked at both of them. “Okay,” she said, and ran off.

  “She’s really worried,” Joy said. “She keeps asking when Nono will be home.”

  “I know,” Kubu said. “But I don’t think you should be so negative around her. Try to be positive.”

  “How can I be positive when Nono’s deteriorating, and you’re your normal cheerful, optimistic self. Aren’t you worried?”

  Kubu reached out, but Joy backed away.

  “Of course I’m worried. But I have faith in Nono, in the doctors, and in our family.”

  “The doctors are useless, and her being in the hospital is like signing a death warrant. It’s unhygienic and full of bugs that could kill her. We’ve got to do something!”

  “Darling, we’re doing—”

  Joy looked at Kubu. “We’re not doing enough.” She paused. “Do you know what that Bushman who was so old was taking? What plants he was eating?”

  Kubu stared in amazement at his wife. She was ordinarily so sensible, depending on data for her decisions, depending on science.

  “We don’t know what he was eating, if he was eating anything special. I think he was just a freak of nature, an outlier. I think his condition was just luck.”

  “And what about Kgosi Ramala? Can you get some of his muti? I think we should give it to Nono. I’ll try anything right now.”

  “Joy, darling. What are you saying? It’s muti. Hocus-pocus. Make-belie
ve. It’s not real.”

  She pounded on his chest. “I don’t care,” she shouted. “I’ll try anything! Get some for her!”

  “But, darling—”

  “Go and get some!”

  Kubu had never seen Joy like this. He didn’t know what to say.

  “Go, for fuck sake. Get some and take it to her” she shouted.

  Kubu took a step back, shocked.

  “Go! Get out!” she screamed. “And don’t come back until you’ve got it!”

  Kubu turned and hurried out to his Land Rover. He climbed in, not knowing what to do. He decided he’d better leave. He started the engine and backed out.

  Crash.

  “Shit.” He’d forgotten to open the gate. He heaved himself out of the car, opened the gate, climbed back in, and reversed to the road. Once again, he jumped out to close the gate.

  Where’s Ilia?

  He looked up and down the street. No dog to be seen.

  She’d better be inside.

  He pulled himself once more into the driver’s seat and headed down the road.

  Where am I going?

  After a few minutes driving, he pulled over and took his cell phone from his pocket.

  “Pleasant? It’s Kubu. Your sister needs help. Please can you go to her? Nono’s taken a turn for the worse and Joy’s thrown me out of the house. She … well, quite frankly, she’s having a meltdown.”

  He listened to her reply.

  “Thank you. As quickly as you can!”

  After hanging up, he decided he should go to his office. It would be quiet on a Friday night. He needed time to think.

  PART 4

  CHAPTER 37

  Kubu wanted to cry.

  He’d never thought that Nono could die! She’d come so far in the year she’d been with the family. When she moved in, she wouldn’t say boo to a mouse, but recently had become nearly like Tumi—playful, energetic, and self-confident. Until she got ill.

  He blinked a few times to clear his vision.

  He felt the depths of despair. Yesterday he and Joy had agreed on almost everything. Today she wanted muti to save Nono. She’d gone back to the beliefs of the past.

  He took a deep breath.

  And the worst thing was that she’d shouted at him. Screamed, actually. She’d never done that before.

  He stood up and went to the window, hoping the pain would go away.

  He replayed the traumatic scene in his head. And again. And again. No matter how he changed what he said, the result was the same—Joy screamed at him.

  He wondered what he should do. Should he find some muti and give it to Nono? To appease Joy?

  He shook his head.

  That was against everything he believed. Believing in muti was a thing of the past. He couldn’t go back there. He wanted to look to the future.

  He went back to his chair and sat down.

  Will Joy and I ever be the same? he wondered. Can we still love each other after what’s happened?

  He felt so alone.

  He took another deep breath and put his head in his hands.

  * * *

  KUBU DIDN’T KNOW how long he sat like that. It seemed forever. He felt paralyzed, unable to make any decisions.

  “Get hold of yourself,” he eventually said out loud. “You’re behaving like a child.”

  He stood up and started pacing.

  He thought of making some of his own muti—totally harmless—and giving it to Nono. Joy would be happy. It wouldn’t make any difference to Nono. That would solve the problem.

  He stopped at the window.

  But what if Nono recovered? Maybe Joy would forsake hospitals for witch doctors. And if he told her that the muti he gave Nono was a placebo, she’d be furious and never trust him again.

  He put his hands in his pockets.

  And he couldn’t live with the lie, anyway. That wasn’t going to work.

  He thought of calling his mother, but decided not to because she would support Joy’s decision to use traditional medicines.

  “It’s all bullshit!” he said out loud.

  He wondered whom else he could call for advice. Pleasant was out because, hopefully, she was with Joy; he wasn’t close enough to her husband, Bongani; and he didn’t feel Mabaku, his boss, would be sympathetic. So who was left?

  Ian, of course. He was a doctor. He knew how to listen, and they’d known each other for a long time.

  Relieved, Kubu picked up the phone and dialed.

  * * *

  “COME IN, LADDIE,” Ian said as Kubu walked in the door. “Here, take this.” He handed Kubu a cut crystal glass with an inch of golden liquid. “Nothing like a wee dram to put problems into perspective. Sit down and tell me about it.”

  For the next ten minutes, Kubu tried to explain what had happened, how he’d been thrown out of the house in order to find muti for Nono, how Joy normally scoffed at the idea of muti, and how he didn’t have any idea of what to do.

  “I assume you’ve considered giving Nono a placebo—something that looks like muti but is harmless.”

  Kubu nodded.

  “And you’ve rejected the idea because it would be a big lie.”

  Kubu nodded again.

  Ian lifted his glass and savored the peaty Scotch he’d poured for both of them.

  “I have a tough question for you. How important is your relationship with Joy?”

  “It’s more important than anything. But—”

  “But not at the price of abandoning your principles,” Ian interrupted.

  Kubu looked down at his near-empty glass.

  “Not at the price of lying, right?”

  Kubu nodded.

  Ian took another sip of his Scotch and rolled it around his mouth.

  “Do you think Joy is a sensible woman?” he asked.

  “Normally, yes. But in this case she’s going against everything she believes in.”

  “And you think it’s your duty to put her back on the straight and narrow? To bring her to her senses?”

  Kubu didn’t reply.

  “What are the chances of you and Joy being happy together if Nono dies and you didn’t find muti for her? In fact, how are you going to feel if Nono dies and you haven’t tried everything? Even stuff you think is mumbo jumbo?”

  Kubu didn’t say anything.

  “You know very well that spells by witch doctors often have bad consequences for those who’ve been cursed. Can you explain that? Of course you can, and do. It’s all in the mind, you’d say. Same as muti. If it works, it’s purely psychological, you’d say. Am I right?”

  Kubu shrugged.

  “You know I’m right, laddie.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes.

  “You think I should fake it?” Kubu asked eventually.

  “Think about it, my friend. What is the downside? Joy will think you’ve done everything in your power to help, and it’s not going to affect Nono one way or the other. The only thing that will suffer is your ego—that you abandoned your principles to save your marriage.”

  “I have to live with myself, Ian. I don’t want to live a lie—I’d be constantly mortified at what I had done. Principles mean a lot to me.”

  “That’s codswallop!” Ian continued. “I’ve seen you having very malleable principles when it comes to solving a case. Stretching the truth here, embellishing the facts there, to get a confession. Get real, laddie. We’ll concoct something here tonight. No one will be the wiser. And you’ll call Joy and apologize for storming out. Tell her—”

  “I didn’t storm out,” Kubu protested. “She told me to get out.”

  “Laddie, laddie. It doesn’t matter what she told you. You phone her now and tell her that you love her but are going to stay here tonight, and that you’ll get some of that witch doctor’s muti in the morning from the evidence room at the CID. What’s his name? Ramala? That you will give Nono some of Kgosi Ramala’s potion as soon as you can.”

  He put his hand on Kubu�
��s shoulder. “Go and phone her. Then come back and have another Scotch.”

  “I’ll do it later,” Kubu said. “I’m not up to it right now.”

  Ian shrugged and walked over to the table to top up his drink.

  * * *

  AT KUBU’S HOME, Pleasant was trying to console Joy.

  “He loves you, Joy. He really does. More than I’ve known any man to love his wife. He worships you.”

  “Why doesn’t he want to help Nono?”

  Pleasant shook her head. “Joy, Joy. Of course he wants to help her. He loves her just as much as Tumi. He’d be devastated if she died.”

  “But he doesn’t want to try the muti of that witch doctor, whatever his name is. She’s dying, Pleasant. Doesn’t he realize that?”

  “He knows how sick she is, and he knows how worried you are. If he was here, he’d be holding you.”

  “But he’s not here,” Joy snapped. “He left, just when I need him.”

  “I thought he said you told him to leave.”

  Joy burst into tears again.

  “I did, but he should’ve known I didn’t mean it.”

  Pleasant took Joy in her arms. “He said you’d never shouted at him before. He sounded lost. Didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t sure you wanted him back.”

  “Of course I want him back.”

  “Why don’t you call him and tell him.”

  “And if he doesn’t want to come back? What’ll I do then?”

  “Of course he wants to come back. This is his home. You’re his wife, and Tumi and Nono are his children.”

  “Then why hasn’t he called? He should’ve called by now.”

  “He thinks you threw him out. He doesn’t know that you want him back. Call him and tell him that you love him, that you need him, and he should come back home.”

  “Where will he be staying? Will he get a hotel room?”

  “It doesn’t matter where he’s staying. He’s got his cell phone.”

  Joy wiped her eyes. “I’m so scared he won’t come back. I’ll call him in the morning, after I’ve had some sleep. I’ll feel better then.”

  Pleasant let Joy go. “I’m going to get a glass of wine. Do you want one?”

  Joy shrugged, then nodded.