by Philip Roy
“Yes. That sounds right. Do you know what happened to her?”
“I’m not sure, but she might have been killed by a pirate. I’m pretty sure he stole her boat anyway. Did you really dream about her? That’s pretty weird.”
“It isn’t weird at all. I do it all the time. I dreamt about you before I met you. Maggie is very worried about Little Laura.”
“Oh. Is there any way to let her know that she is okay?”
“Maybe. If I dream of her again.”
“Did you see Los?”
“Yes.”
“How is he?”
“He has a bad concussion, as you said. He has swelling in his head, from bleeding. They will watch it closely. They might have to operate. They don’t know yet. He has so many broken bones and bruised muscles.”
“Is his spine okay?”
“It appears to be. If he comes through this . . .” She paused. “When he comes through this, he won’t be crippled. But there is still a little concern for brain damage.” She paused again. “Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, please.”
Katharina made me a cup of mint tea and an avocado sandwich. I had eaten only a little fruit in two days. While I ate, she stared at her hands, and fiddled with her car keys. I could tell she was thinking about something she wasn’t saying.
“Can you explain something to me?” I asked.
“I can try.”
“Soweto was created to keep the black people who worked in the gold mines separate from white society, right?”
“Yes.”
“And during Apartheid, the government used police to keep order there, right?”
“Order? I don’t think you could call it order. It was a form of oppression.”
“That’s what I meant. But then, Nelson Mandela, and others, fought for freedom, and to end Apartheid. And they won. Right?”
“More or less.”
“But the nurses at the hospital told me that there is more violence in South Africa today than ever before. And I saw it for myself. Why is that? Why, if the people have more freedom and opportunity, and less oppression, would they be more violent? Why didn’t things get better?”
Katharina put her keys down and laid her hands flat on the table. “That’s a good question. You’re right. South Africa is more dangerous today than it ever was. Especially Johannesburg. And even more especially Soweto. I know that part of the reason is because there are more drugs around today. Drugs are a huge problem. People become violent, people who might never have been violent before. Drugs change their behaviour. It makes them very desperate.”
“Doesn’t poverty, too?”
“Yes, poverty does, too. But I think maybe drugs are even worse. It’s a terrible combination anyway, drugs and poverty. But there is more freedom and there is more opportunity. And you see it. You see people getting ahead. But it’s slow for most. Too slow. I think maybe real improvements in society take a long time. They don’t happen overnight. And then, I also think that violence has been around for so long that it has become part of our culture. South Africa has the highest violent crime rate in the world. We have the highest rate of rape. We have the highest rate of AIDS. Did you know that a girl born in South Africa has a higher chance of being raped than learning to read?”
“Can that be true?”
“It is.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“You must believe it, because it is true. Violence will be part of our culture until we have suffered long enough to do something about it. There are people trying very hard to change it, but there is a long way to go.”
I watched Little Laura on Katharina’s shoulder. She had been preening herself. Now, her head was tucked in against her feathers and she was falling asleep.
“She looks as if she is used to living with a woman.”
Katharina turned her head and kissed the little bird. “She’s a precious soul. I believe that Maggie spoke to me in my dream, Alfred. She is hoping I will look after her. Will you let her stay?”
I looked down at Hollie. He was curled up, asleep on the floor. It seemed a shame to separate the two of them; they had become good friends. Then I remembered Little Laura getting banged around inside the tool bag in the sidecar. Maybe she was too small and delicate for our travels. Maybe this was where she was meant to be. I looked at her again, nestled close to the dark braids and dangling beads of Katharina’s hair. And I nodded.
“Thank you. I promise I will look after her very well.”
“I know that you will.”
Chapter Twenty-four
THE LIST OF LOS’ injuries was long. He had broken ribs, broken bones in his hands and feet, broken teeth, and a broken nose. There was a fracture in his neck, but the doctor said it was not a bad one, and would heal. He had blood in one lung, and his organs were bruised. His muscles had been pulverized. This was how you beat someone severely without killing him, said the doctor. The people who did it had experience, and knew what they were doing. This was mob justice.
It wasn’t hard to understand why there was mob justice. If you had millions of people living in a small area, and no effective police force, you had to have some way to keep order. If you knew you would suffer punishment at the hands of your neighbours, then you might think twice before committing a crime against them. In some ways, it made sense that a whole community would choose the punishment together. Then everyone was taking responsibility for justice. It sort of sounded fair. I wondered what my grandfather would say about that.
What I didn’t understand, was why anyone would beat someone almost to death for stealing a car battery. Wasn’t the punishment way more than the crime deserved? If they had beaten Los any more, they would have killed him. That wasn’t justice; that was just an excuse for violence. Maybe the people were taking out their anger and frustration by beating someone whenever they knew they could get away with it. Or, maybe it was even worse than that. Maybe they enjoyed it.
But that wasn’t justice. And I didn’t think that Nelson Mandela went to prison so that people could do that.
The swelling in Los’ face was coming down with medication, and he was conscious now and could see. But he was doped up with painkillers and was very groggy. He couldn’t speak. The swelling in his head had come down, too. That was the most important thing. They would watch him closely, but probably they wouldn’t have to operate.
He would stay in the hospital for a long time though. And after that, he would stay with Katharina, in her house. It would be months before he’d be up and on his feet again. Katharina told me I should go. I should say goodbye for now, and go. I could come back some day, but there was no point in staying here now. I knew that she was right, though it didn’t feel good. I hated to leave Los like this, but I was worried about the sub. It had been sitting on the floor of the harbour for over a week. What if the pirates had gotten hold of a sonar device and were searching every harbour for it? I couldn’t let them find it. And since there was nothing I could do for Los now, it was best to go.
I stood at the side of his bed, held his fingers gently, and stared into his swollen face. I hardly recognized him. “You’re going to be all right now, my friend. Katharina will take good care of you.”
He blinked and nodded ever so slightly. I knew he could hear and understand me.
“I’m leaving the money with Katharina. It’s yours.”
He shut his eyes.
“It’s okay. I have more.” I smiled. “I’m leaving the motorbike too.”
His eyes opened wider.
“You’ll use it a lot more than I would. I’d probably just leave it on the bottom of the sea.”
His eyes sparkled. I was pretty sure he was laughing inside.
“Listen, Los. I’m going to talk to Ziegfried. I will ask him if he will take you on as an apprentice for a while, so that you can learn how to build your own submarine, okay? I’ll ask him, and will write to you here, at Katharina’s. So, just get yourself better, and then
maybe you can come to Canada and build your own sub, and then we will each have one, and can travel to places together, and watch each other’s back. Okay?”
He blinked and nodded, and now he looked sad.
“Goodbye, my friend. For now. Goodbye.” I squeezed his fingers gently, turned around, and went out. My heart was heavy.
Katharina thought I should take the motorbike, but I said no, I would have no use for it once I got to the sea. She said I could sell it. I said it belonged to Los now.
“But how will you get to Richards Bay?”
“I’ll walk.”
“Walk? It’s over a hundred miles.”
“I know. But I want to walk it. I want to walk and think. We haven’t had a good hike for a long time. We’ll enjoy it. It will only take us four or five days.”
“But where will you sleep?”
“Under the stars.”
“What will you eat?”
“I’ll carry food and water. And we’ll stop in Greytown. It’s halfway. I only have to carry food and water till there. Do you have an old knapsack I can borrow? It might be a long time before you get it back.”
“Yes. Take a sleeping bag, too.”
“Thank you. Will you keep this for Los?” I handed her the bag.
“What is it?”
“Money. I took it from the pirates. We agreed that he would use it for his submarine. I might be able to send more. I will write to you, and him.”
“Thank you, Alfred. This means more than you can know. I will keep it for him until he is better, and he will make good use of it.”
“I know he will. Thank you.”
We left with the sun the next morning. I wanted to get an early start, walk with an easy pace, and see how far we could get by dark. We said goodbye on Katharina’s porch. She hugged me so tightly I felt I had squeezed into a wetsuit three sizes too small. I started to thank her for everything, but she put her fingers in front of my lips and stopped me. She smiled warmly, though I saw sadness in her eyes. “We will see each other again,” she said. “I know it.”
I believed her. I felt saddest for Hollie and Little Laura, who didn’t know that this was goodbye. But it was the best thing for Little Laura. Whether Maggie had really called from beyond the grave or not, I think it was meant to be. Would Hollie and Little Laura remember each other when they met again? I was certain they would.
I carried fruit, nuts, bread, cheese, crackers, raisins, and water. I also carried the sleeping bag and a rolled-up mat. Katharina had insisted I wear an old hat. Later, I was glad that she had. I let Hollie walk as much as he wanted, and ride in the tool bag the rest of the time. Seaweed walked too sometimes, for short distances, but mostly flew ahead of us, then sat and waited by the side of the road until we came by. “Hello stranger,” I would say to him every time we caught up to him.
We walked out of town and headed southeast. I felt mixed emotions. The full significance of what had happened to Los still hadn’t settled in my mind. I was struggling with it. It had been so stressful finding him and getting him back to Ladysmith, so upsetting to see him hooked up to tubes in the hospital, unable to move or speak, that I never had the chance to deal with it. The injustice of the violence against him, especially when he was trying to save the planet and make it a better place for everyone, including the people who had beaten him, was hard to accept. He deserved so much better. So did the children of Soweto. So did children everywhere. They deserved a world without violence. Why were their parents robbing them of it?
After all of that stress, walking down an open road in Africa felt incredibly pleasant. It was so quiet, except for the sounds of birds and insects. And they made such unusual sounds, so different from anything I had ever heard before, that I wasn’t sure which was which. It seemed to me that the winged creatures here made more musically rhythmical sounds, like drums and flutes, than anywhere else. The insects might have been lizards though, because I never actually saw them, I only heard them. And it wouldn’t have surprised me if the birds were really people hiding behind rocks, playing flutes and gourds and drums. That’s what they sounded like.
The sounds were a welcome distraction. They kept me from dwelling too much on darker things, things I couldn’t change. I kept an eye open for snakes, and reminded Hollie to do the same. He knew what they were. I didn’t have to warn Seaweed.
We walked for a few hours, stopped, rested, and ate a snack. A few cars and trucks passed, and there were people walking in the other direction, towards Ladysmith. Mostly they were women with baskets on their heads. They smiled as they passed. The men we met crossed the road, shook my hand, rubbed my shoulder against theirs, and shook my hand again. This was a normal greeting. They made me feel welcome. Around midday, we found a tree with shade, rolled out the sleeping bag, and took a nap. We drifted to sleep to the song of an insect, or lizard, which sounded like someone winding up an old grandfather clock.
We woke in the middle of the afternoon, ate some oranges and crackers, drank water, and continued walking. Hollie was in his element. He trotted on the soft, spongy ground beside the road and smelled everything. He looked as if he couldn’t believe his luck. By the end of the afternoon, I had finished recalling everything that had happened since Los and I first met. Now, I had to agree with Katharina that we had been destined to meet. It was too unlikely to have happened by chance.
When twilight fell, I began scouting for places to sleep. I didn’t want to stay too close to the road, or too far away. I wanted to build a fire, but didn’t want it seen from the road. I was a little nervous about elephants, but didn’t think they would wander so far from a reserve. My guidebook said it was very unlikely they would. It was the same for lions and rhinos. I put a lot of faith in that book.
Funny how much more dangerous everything seems once it turns dark. In the night there were sounds we never heard in the day, strange wailing and screeching sounds, deep grunts, and a noise like someone blowing bubbles out of a long, hollow tube. I turned on the flashlight at least a dozen times during the night, but never saw a single thing. I chose a spot under a tree that I could climb. If any undesirable creature came by, that’s where we’d be.
We slept lightly, beneath stars so brilliant you could almost see them with your eyes closed. Then we were up and walking before the sunrise, which appeared like a weak glowworm at first, then grew into an orange moth, stretched its wings across the sky, and lit up the sides of trees and rocks, casting long shadows. Then the sun came over the lip of the horizon like a ball of yellow fire, and I had to shield my eyes from it. Unlike the sea, the land lay perfectly still while the sun swept over it. And, unlike the sea, it was silent, except for the sound of our feet on the soft ground. There, on the road in front of us, I saw the shapes of women walking with baskets on their heads. Where had they come from? How did they just appear like that, as if out of nowhere? They must have been walking to Ladysmith, carrying things to sell. I wondered how they could walk so very far with such a weight on their heads, and never drop it.
But this morning was the most beautiful thing I had yet seen in Africa. It filled me with awe, and hope. Maybe things were not as bad as I had thought. Maybe I had just been in the wrong places at the wrong times, or been unlucky.
No. I wished it had been that, but it wasn’t. As I prepared myself to spend the day as I had spent the day before, contemplating violence on the earth, I passed one of the women coming from the other direction. She stared across the road at me and smiled. I smiled back. Her face was radiant in the sun. Without slowing down or breaking her rhythm in the slightest, she spoke to me. She said just three words. But those words buzzed around inside my head like a bumblebee for the rest of the day, blocking all other thoughts. “Appreciate your life,” she said with a musical voice. As if she were singing a song.
Chapter Twenty-five
HOLLIE AND I WALKED into Greytown just after dark on the second day. Seaweed was waiting for us. It was a smaller town than Ladysmith. On a quiet bac
k street, which looked like it hadn’t changed since the 1950s, we met an elderly couple, Edgar and Nancy. After a short conversation in front of their house, they invited us in for a cup of tea, which was very friendly of them, and reminded me of how people were back home in Newfoundland. So we went. Then, when they learned that we were sleeping under the stars, they insisted we stay for the night, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Edgar and Nancy were the nicest people. They had lived in Greytown most of their lives, and had seen many changes in their country, including the coming and going of Apartheid. It was interesting to listen to them, but I was terribly sleepy, and Hollie was comatose on the floor. He didn’t even care that they had an old dog who was excited to have a visitor. Hollie just took one look at him, decided he wasn’t a threat, flopped down on the kitchen floor, and went to sleep. I felt the same way, but they wanted to hear about my travels.
As the warm, soft air blew in through the open windows, and I sipped red-bush tea sweetened with honey, I told them. Usually, I didn’t tell people about the sub, but this old couple was so friendly and curious that I just kept answering their questions until I pretty much told them everything. Soon I was so tired that I could hardly remember what I was saying. When they finally showed me to a room where I could sleep, I fell onto the bed with my clothes on, and never moved until the sun was up.
A large breakfast was waiting for us. Edgar and Nancy were dressed for travel. They explained to me that, right after breakfast, they were going to drive us to Richards Bay. They insisted upon doing it, and that’s all there was to it. The road between Greytown and KwaDukuza was not as safe as between Greytown and Ladysmith, they said, and was particularly dangerous along the coast, between KwaDukuza and Richards Bay. As I didn’t see how I could refuse, I accepted the ride.
I think maybe they wanted to see the sub, too.
Edgar wore a white cotton jacket zipped up to his neck, and a grey cap. Nancy wore a yellow dress, a white hat, and carried a purse. She looked a little bit like the Queen. Edgar was tall. Nancy was short and round. I tried to imagine them much younger. They were the sweetest couple I ever met.
