Cut for Life

by Lucinda E Clarke

  Finally, Mrs Motswezi waddled into the cafe and sank onto the plastic chair which creaked ominously. “They are safe the little ones?” she asked Amie.

  “Yes, quite safe, Madame. Now the English people take good care of them.” Jean-Pierre had risen to his feet to pull out a chair for her.

  Mrs Motswezi nodded her thanks and turned to Amie. “You must not worry. How could their own people in their own embassy not do what is good for them?”

  “Yes, I know you’re right.” Amie relaxed a little. She’d not realised how responsible she’d felt for their safety.

  The elderly headmistress was in no hurry. She sipped her cup of tea and announced she had several more errands to run. Only then they could take her back to the orphanage.

  Amie fought down her impatience, gently reminding Mrs Motswezi that maybe it was not safe for her to hang around in the capital for long.

  Mrs Motswezi stood up. “I will go quickly then,” she said, patting Amie’s hand and making for the door.

  “Do not fret little one.” Jean-Pierre covered Amie’s hand with his. “I think we are safe here for now and maybe the electricity will work soon and you can talk to Maddy.”

  “I’ll go check again,” said Amie.

  Jean- Pierre followed her.

  Once they turned the corner, the deafening reggae music, reinforced by the flashing neon lights told them the electricity was back on. They ducked into the dusty shop. Jean-Pierre paid at the counter and settled Amie at one of the far desktops. “I give you the privacy, yes? And I keep a look up for the bad guys at the door.” He smiled, then left her to it.

  Amie’s fingers were shaking slightly as she logged on and opened her mail box. There were several messages from Maddy. She started with the oldest.

  Since you are not with the animals on the farm any more, I will have to be open with you, the first one began. Sad I’ve not heard from you when you promised to keep in touch. You said you would let me know how your holiday is going. Are you OK? Please get back to me soon, I am worried about you.

  Amie clicked open the second message. How are you? Are you having a good time? There is lots to see and do in Africa so I hope you are visiting all the best places. At least you packed everything you needed, so you won’t have to throw yourself on the mercy of the authorities, which would be such a pain and a very bad thing to have to do. Friends tell me they are not very friendly to tourists who’ve lost passports or been robbed. Just let me know how you are when you pick up this message, getting quite worried about you now.

  The third message was even more frantic. My dear, still no news from you. Have you met up with yet another unsuitable boyfriend? I’ve warned you about this before. You are far too trusting. I’ve told you that so many times, you believe anyone who spins you a tale. So please take care and email me the minute you see this and you can even phone me you know. I did put the number in your phone before you left, so there are no excuses, you hear? Just phone me darling, I need to know you’re safe. And did you meet up with those friends of yours? I’m not sure if I should have put you in touch with them, I’ve heard they are not much fun, have bad habits and will lead you astray ha ha, you know how gullible you are. Love Maddy

  Amie sighed, thanks Maddy, she muttered typing in her reply. As obliquely as she could she mentioned she was back in her old hunting ground, which was exploding with life. She hoped that Maddy would recognise this as Apatu, but guessed they would be able to see where she was from the IP address. Yes, she had met a charismatic homme but they were still getting to know each other, so it was far too early for her to say if they would ever marry or have children. She hesitated over mentioning the aid workers then simply wrote, they had touched base but then had gone their separate ways, they were going off to places she didn’t want to see. She said she was sorry she had not kept in touch, but had been robbed of both her phone and laptop which had really pissed her off, so couldn’t let her friend know how she was doing. She’d seen lots of the countryside and some wild life too. She would be touching base again on Monday morning when she went to get new papers, and would be staying with old friends over the weekend. There was nothing much she could do before then. Amie would phone her on Monday.

  Amie stared at the screen for several minutes hoping that Maddy would get straight back to her but there was no response. She re-read the messages. If she was guessing right, Maddy had warned her about going to the British Embassy, but which one? In Botswana, Zimbabwe or here in Apatu? When Maddy had sent those earlier messages, she would not have known which country Amie was in. But who was Maddy warning her about? The aid workers? The boyfriend part? Did she know about Jean-Pierre? No surely not, that would be too far-fetched.

  21 VISIT FROM THE WITCH DOCTOR

  Amie spent a few more minutes staring at the non-responsive screen. There was little else she could tell Maddy, she hoped she’d pick up the French word for man, but it had occurred to her that any internet traffic in and out of Apatu could easily be monitored. The roof on the British Embassy was a forest of aerials and they could very well be zoning in on her right now. She emptied the cache and walked away.

  Jean-Pierre smiled at her. “C’est fini?” he asked.

  Amie nodded. “I’d just like to get back to the orphanage as soon as possible,” she replied. The moment the words were out of her mouth she realised how silly that was; it was only a temporary refuge. She’d lived in this city, and though it was unlikely she’d meet anyone she knew, she didn’t want to take that chance. It could mean a lot of awkward questions.

  “You speak with your Maddy?” he persisted as they hurried along the pavement avoiding the sellers who occupied most of it with their various wares spread out from wall to kerb side and beyond.

  “Yes, and no,” Amie replied “I need to think about it for a while Jean-Pierre, take it all in.”

  He nodded giving his usual Gallic shrug.

  Was Maddy warning her against Jean-Pierre? It couldn’t be Tony, so who? Was it worth trying to get another copy of Animal Farm so she could ask proper questions, get more definitive answers without having to read between the lines? They’d even taken that when they’d stripped the vehicles in the village.

  While she’d been in the internet cafe Jean-Pierre had scouted the local shops for extra supplies to top up what they’d already used. He bought several cans of mosquito repellent, a snake bite kit, a fancy first aid kit, washing powder and another change of clothes. Amie wasn’t sure why he was stocking up, but didn’t like to ask. What he did after Monday was no business of hers.

  “I see a PEP stores round that corner,” he told her. “I think if you can, go and buy more clothes?” His eyes rested on her scruffy, dirty cargo pants and T-shirt. He put his packages down and handed over more notes.

  Amie didn’t need telling twice. She was back in minutes and as she approached Jean-Pierre he smiled. “You women, you need so many things to wear?”

  “I refuse to reply to that,” Amie retorted. “At the prices they charge, it’s almost worth buying stuff just to throw away when it gets dirty. And thanks for the money. I’ll pay you back on Monday.”

  “There is no hurry.”

  “There are always so many practicalities to sort out.” Amie sighed. She wouldn’t wait for anyone else but jump in the Land Rover and come into town first thing. What was he thinking? The two of them going on a huge scale operation to rescue fifty kidnapped children? Sheer madness. Sorry, it wasn’t going to happen.

  To her relief, Mrs Motswezi appeared, waddling along the pavement weighed down with multiple bags and packages. They headed back to Tamara. The night clouds were washing over the last rays of the sun as they drove in through the gates, and Amie was looking forward to a second night’s sleep where she wasn’t scrunched up in a metal box on wheels.

  By the time they’d finished eating and the plates and mugs had been cleared away, even the weaver birds had settled down for the night, their chittering squawks falling silent. In the distance
the odd dog barked, leaving the buzzing of the cicadas to dominate the night air. Amie slept soundly through it all.

  Before the first cock had crowed the following morning, Amie felt a gentle hand shake her awake. She opened her eyes to see Mrs Motswezi’s gentle face.

  “Come, you have a visitor,” she said softly. “You need to come quickly.”

  By the time Amie had pulled on her clothes, there was enough light outside to clearly see a figure sitting outside the little breeze block office. It was Ouma Adede. Her long, flowing skirt was arranged around her and she still had the chicken bladders in her hair, the empty nut shells and Coca Cola bottle tops around her wrists and ankles. In contrast she wore a T-shirt advertising a Madonna concert that had taken place many years ago in Europe.

  Amie was tempted to embrace her in the same way she had greeted the elderly headmistress with a big hug, but the aura that surrounded the witchdoctor held her back. She would forever be in awe of her and her powers. Amie bowed her head as she approached.

  “I see you Ouma Adede.”

  “I see you Amie.”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “I know,” was the simple reply. “But you must see this.” The lady thrust the newspaper she had been holding into Amie’s hands. It was dated two days earlier and on the front page was a picture of Amie, taken as she was getting into the Land Rover. She was staring straight at the camera with a slight smile but it was the headline next to it which made Amie gasp. WANTED IN CONNECTION WITH CHILD KIDNAPPING.

  “Let me see,” Jean-Pierre had appeared from behind her, barged forward and snatched the paper out of her hands. “This picture, when was it taken? Who took this?”

  Amie was shaking. “It ... it must have been Doug, the English mining guy in Ruanga who helped me collect the Land Rover when I’d run out of petrol.” Amie remembered the flash when he’d asked her for a smile. She’d thought nothing of it at the time, but he must have been suspicious about the children she had with her, with no rational explanation. It was hardly likely she would take four black children who were obviously not hers out of Zimbabwe legally. He hadn’t believed a word she’d said. Maybe he was scared of getting into trouble with the authorities if it ever came to light he’d helped her. They might not hang him like his friend, but they could throw him in prison.

  Amie sank down next to Ouma Adede. This was going to make life even more difficult. Had anyone seen her in Apatu yesterday? She peered towards the gate, expecting the police to come roaring in at any moment. She couldn’t wait until Monday to go to the embassy; she had to go now.

  “Do not fear. Help is coming,” the wise lady said. “Do not be scared, help is coming and soon.”

  “How does she know that?” Jean-Pierre looked puzzled and then remembered his manners. “Pardon Madame, I am Jean-Pierre and I am a close friend of...” he hesitated, “...Amie, uh Felicity?”

  “It’s OK, I answer to both.” Amie sat down beside Ouma Adede while a couple of the orphanage staff rushed over with two dusty wooden benches shortly followed by a tray with mugs of hot tea. Both Amie and Jean-Pierre watched in dismay as Mrs Motswezi settled down bedside them and spooned copious amounts of sugar into every mug.

  “But I don’t ...” Jean-Pierre started to protest until Amie dug him in the ribs. Reluctantly, he accepted the mug and raised it to his lips.

  “You go to free the children, yes?” Ouma Adede said softly, there was never any need to raise her voice.

  Amie put her hand on Jean-Pierre’s arm. “Jean-Pierre, this is Ouma Adede. She is the most important witch doctor or sangoma in Apatu ...”

  “In Togodo,” Mrs Motswezi interrupted. “She can see everything. She is wise and knows everything.”

  Jean-Pierre extended his hand and bowed slightly as he said, “I’m very honoured to meet you, Madame.”

  “Look,” said Amie standing up. “I’ve got to get to the Embassy as soon as possible.”

  Ouma Adede simply nodded then turned back to Amie. “There are things you must know first. I can help, but you must listen to me.”

  She nodded and waited to hear what the witchdoctor had to tell her.

  Over three thousand kilometres away, Simon was working late in his office at the British Consulate in Durban. He was staring open-mouthed at the computer screen. The front page of the Ruangan Times showed a large picture of Amie, accusing her of child kidnapping. He read the email that was attached. For a moment he felt like laughing, the idea of Amie stealing children was totally ludicrous, but something, somewhere had gone horribly wrong. He stretched out his hand and picked up the phone. He’d liaise with the SIS man in Pretoria. This had gone far enough. They had to act now, before things got worse. He wouldn’t take no for an answer this time.

  Amie’s mouth fell open while Ouma Adede spoke to her. Now she knew where Tony and Charlie were staying; not in the embassy at all, but in the Grand Hotel, which wasn’t as grand as it had been before the civil war. Amie had noticed the bullet holes that still adorned the walls when she drove past that morning. She couldn’t understand why they were staying there; it was the most expensive accommodation in Apatu. The sangoma told them that the couple had booked two rooms but they were due to check out that morning.

  Jean-Pierre nodded to Amie. “They take them to the airport.”

  “Then I must go and say goodbye to them,” Amie announced, “before I go to the embassy. Once inside they may not let me out.”

  “But ma cherie, the embassy is closed. How will you get in, it is not possible?”

  “I’ll climb over the wall if I have to, but I’ve had a better idea. I know where the ambassador used to live. I’ll go there and knock on his door.”

  “Before you leave you must eat one last time with me,” Mrs Motswezi insisted. She glanced at the sangoma. “There is time?”

  Ouma Adede smiled briefly and nodded.

  The elderly lady rushed off to organise the food.

  While they waited Amie was tempted to question the sangoma further but the wise lady would only tell her what she wanted Amie to know. On one hand she spoke in riddles, but on the other everything she’d said in the past had been true. She simply shook her head when Amie tried to get more details out of her, and gave her serene smile. “All will happen as it is supposed to,” she said. “But go to the hotel after we eat.”

  She fished in her pocket and pulled out a tiny glass vial which she thrust into Amie’s hand. “You have this before,” she smiled. “It may be of help again.” She leaned forward and whispered in Amie’s ear.

  It was a subdued gathering as the adults ate their last meal together. Jean-Pierre was lost in thought, Mrs Motswezi was fussing, constantly reminding Amie to take care, and Amie saw visions of herself sitting in another prison cell. She tossed up whether it would be more sensible to go straight to the embassy residence but Ouma Adede had told her to go to the hotel first. She was wary of disobeying the wise woman’s instructions.

  Ouma Adede gathered her skirts around her as she stood. “It is time to go.” She directed her piercing stare at Jean-Pierre.

  “We can take you back to town?” His voice sounded strange, high-pitched.

  “But, of course,” was the answer.

  Mrs Motswezi enveloped Amie in a bear hug, clinging to her. “Take care Amie, take care.”

  “I will, I promise. In a couple of hours after I’ve said goodbye to the children, I will be safe either in the embassy or with the Ambassador. If I get a chance to come and say goodbye to you I will.”

  Jean-Pierre held the door open for Ouma Adede who stepped into the front of the Land Rover like royalty. Amie hopped into the back seat to find it was already occupied by two Togodian men. Just as she was about to jump out again a quiet voice from the front said, “They are my men and I leave them to help you.”

  “Uh, thanks,” muttered Amie and she held out her hand. In turn, they held out theirs.

  “Jabu.”

  “Beehive.”

  �
��Pleased to meet you.”

  Jean-Pierre didn’t look at all pleased to see the extra passengers, but said nothing, only acknowledging them with a curt nod.

  The ride into town was uneventful, only stopping to let Ouma Adede out near her house. She refused to allow them to drive into the township area, shaking her head and making the chicken bladders crackle and the bottle tops on her wrists and ankles tinkle as she got out of the truck.

  Jean-Pierre waited for the other two to join her but they sat mute as Ouma Adede closed the door and disappeared between the wooden shacks.

  Amie hopped out and took her place in the front directing Jean-Pierre on the quickest route into town. As they drove down the dual carriageway past the Grand Hotel on the far side of the road, they saw Tony and Charlie walk out of the main entrance, each holding a child by the hand.

  “What? Where are they going this early in the morning?” Amie shouted, twisting in her seat to watch. “Stop, Jean-Pierre, stop!”

  “Yes, yes, I will but I cannot turn here. I must go to the end of the road and then we come up next to the hotel. Du calme, ma belle, du calme. They are maybe going to the airport.”

  “They’re going to be waiting for ages at the airport. I must say goodbye to them.” Amie was jumping up and down in her seat, craning her neck to keep the aid workers in her sight. “They’re getting into a green SUV. A Datsun I think. Hurry, Jean-Pierre! Hurry.”

  “I am doing my best.”

  By the time they’d shot round the roundabout at the end of the road, the green SUV was disappearing. “After them, follow them, we can’t lose them. We can catch them up in the airport car park.” All thoughts of seeking refuge in the embassy had gone, Amie was only intent on saying goodbye to the children.

  The Datsun was speeding ahead, its engine more powerful than the Land Rover. It weaved its way out of town and hit the open road.