“Disappeared?” Mubita said, narrowing his eyes.
“We haven’t been able to reach him. The best I can do is offer the testimony of Officer Kabuta and Ms. Fleming. Both of their voices are on the tape.”
The judge cleared his throat. “If the officer certifies the authenticity of the recordings, I’ll accept them under advisement. I need to look at the law on this.”
Sarge sighed visibly. “Very well. I call Joseph Kabuta to the stand.”
In the end, the judge allowed the recordings to be aired in open court. Sarge placed the recording device on counsel table, turned up the volume, and pressed play. The static echoed in the vaulted space, then Joseph made his introductions. When he identified the witness by name—Dr. Mwenya Amos—Darious motioned hastily to Luchembe, and Zoe caught the worry in his eyes. You didn’t know? she thought, fascinated. That means your parents are calling all the shots.
Luchembe seemed off balance, but he righted himself quickly. “I was not aware the witness was a physician,” he objected, as Sarge paused the recording. “I’m concerned that this testimony invades the doctor-patient privilege.”
“Your Worship,” Sarge interjected, “the privilege is subject to judicial discretion. If the testimony relates to irrelevant matters, you can disregard it. But I respectfully request that you permit the recording to be played in its entirety. It is critical to our case.”
The judge furrowed his brow wearily. “Go ahead.”
Luchembe settled into his chair and didn’t speak again. Darious, however, grew increasingly agitated as Amos recounted his concern about AIDS, the course of his treatment, the fears he harbored about his father, and his hatred of the unnamed mahule who had bewitched his family with “strife and pain” and left him with a deadly disease.
In the midst of the testimony, Zoe glanced at Frederick in the back row. He looked irritated but unconcerned. She tuned in to the recording again as Amos described Darious’s last visit, only a month before the rape—his obsession with the curse of the mahule, his fixation on virgin cleansing, and his uncompromising resolve to “bewitch the witch.”
“Those were his exact words?” Joseph asked, his voice echoing in the courtroom.
“It is not the sort of thing a person forgets,” Amos replied.
When the judge asked Sarge to call his next witness, the prosecutor nodded at Zoe. Here we go, she thought, standing up and walking toward the exit. Over her shoulder, she heard him say: “I call Kuyeya Mizinga to the stand.”
At this declaration, war broke out between the attorneys over Kuyeya’s capacity to testify. Luchembe cried foul, citing Dr. Mbao’s initial evaluation, and Sarge defended on the basis of her more recent conclusions. He offered the Court an affidavit from the psychiatrist stating that Kuyeya could answer simple questions. Luchembe demanded a chance to cross-examine the psychiatrist, and Sarge countered, arguing that the affidavit was sufficient.
Zoe left the courtroom and met Sister Irina on the courthouse steps. The St. Francis van was idling at the curb, Sister Anica behind the wheel.
“How is she?” Zoe inquired, looking at Kuyeya through the window.
“She wet the bed last night,” Sister Irina said. “And this morning she was disoriented. But she is happy now. She is listening to your music.”
“We need to get another opinion about her health. I’ll talk to Joy Herald about scheduling an appointment at a private clinic. Do you have the doll?”
The nun lifted the bag she was carrying. “I also brought a wheelchair. I’m concerned about her falling again.”
“Good idea,” Zoe responded, opening the van door. She greeted Kuyeya and helped her out of the seat, taking care not to tangle her headphones. As soon as the girl was situated in the wheelchair, Zoe pushed her up the ramp and down the arcade to the courtroom.
A hush fell upon the gallery when they entered. From the satisfied look on Sarge’s face, Zoe knew that Dr. Mbao’s affidavit had opened the door to Kuyeya’s testimony. Zoe maneuvered the wheelchair to a spot beside the witness stand and gently removed the headphones. She took off the girl’s glasses, too, handing everything to Sarge. It was a move they had prearranged. They didn’t want Kuyeya to see Darious too soon.
“Your Worship,” Sarge said, “for the child’s comfort, I ask that you permit her principal caretaker, Sister Irina, to sit beside her.”
“I will allow that,” said the judge. “Come forward, Sister.”
After the nun took her seat, Sarge moved his chair close to the stand. “Hello there,” he said to Kuyeya. “You’re wearing a pretty dress today. Can you tell me your name?”
The girl rocked a bit and then said, “Kuyeya.”
Zoe let out the breath she was holding. In the past month, she and Sarge had visited Kuyeya three times to prepare her for trial. The girl had been distant at first, unwilling to look at Sarge or answer his questions. Over time, and with urging from Dr. Mbao, she had opened up to him. But a courtroom full of strangers was a world away from the garden at St. Francis. Zoe had feared she would freeze.
“That’s a nice name,” Sarge said softly. “What is your mommy’s name?”
Kuyeya brightened. “Mommy is Charity.”
Sarge nodded. “Did your mommy tell you stories?”
“Mommy tells stories,” she said. “The bee-eater and hippo are friends.”
Sarge smiled. “Was there a river in your mommy’s stories?”
Kuyeya clutched her monkey and didn’t answer.
He tried a leading approach. “Is it the Yangtze?”
The girl thought about this. After a moment, she shook her head.
“Is it the Zambezi?”
Kuyeya’s eyes caught the light. “The bee-eater and hippo live on the Zambezi.”
Sarge faced the judge. “Your Worship, I submit that the child is capable of answering simple questions. I have only a few that I wish to ask.”
Benson Luchembe stood. “For the record I must object. Does the prosecution plan to put all of the answers in the child’s mouth?”
The judge looked at Sarge. “You may only lead the witness to establish a foundation. Beyond that, you have to abide by the rules of evidence.”
Sarge nodded and focused again on Kuyeya. “Your mommy taught you stories. I bet she taught you a lot of things. Did your mommy teach you about men?”
Kuyeya’s eyes crossed, then resolved. “I don’t like men.”
“Why don’t you like men?” Sarge asked, keeping his voice gentle.
Kuyeya began to rock again. “Men are bad.”
Zoe leaned forward. This is as far as the girl had ever been willing to go in talking about the rape. You can do it. Tell the judge what he did to you.
“Why are men bad?” Sarge asked.
Kuyeya’s rocking increased and she let out a groan.
Sarge persisted: “Did your mommy tell you that men might touch you?”
Suddenly, the girl found her voice: “Men not supposed to touch. Mommy can touch, but men not supposed to touch.”
“Kuyeya,” Sarge went on, using a soothing tone, “did a man touch you where only your mommy was supposed to touch?”
Kuyeya’s groaning took on greater urgency and Zoe grimaced. She had heard the sound before—in the examination room on the night of the rape.
“Do you have the doll?” Sarge asked Sister Irina.
It was then that Zoe remembered something. She couldn’t believe she had forgotten. She launched to her feet and said, “Wait!”
All eyes in the courtroom focused on her. Sarge frowned. The judge squinted at her. A couple of Luchembe’s underlings began to whisper.
“Your Worship,” Zoe said, breaching every protocol in the book, “I request a brief recess to confer with counsel.”
Mubita’s squint deepened into a scowl. “Ms. Fleming, must I remind you that you are not a member of the Zambian bar? I do not appreciate interruptions.”
Heart racing, Zoe adopted her most unctuous tone. “I understan
d, Your Worship, but it’s very important that I have a word with Mr. Zulu before he proceeds. Five minutes is all I ask.”
Mubita stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “I’ll give you grace this one time. Five minutes then.” He departed the courtroom in a flurry of robes.
Zoe ignored the sniggering of Luchembe’s legal team and wheeled Kuyeya out to the arcade. Sister Irina, Joseph, and the two CILA lawyers followed in her wake. They regrouped in a quiet spot beside a patch of grass.
“That was quite a stunt you pulled,” Niza said.
Zoe nodded, feeling the weight of her gamble. “Hear me out. If you give her the doll, she’ll get upset and say what we expect: ‘The man is bad. Baby is not bad.’ It’s dramatic and worth some sympathy, but it won’t point the finger at Darious.”
Zoe reached into her pocket and took out the emerald ring. “Doris gave this to me last night. It was Charity’s. I want to give it to Kuyeya now, and then I want you to put her glasses on and let her confront Darious. I have no idea what she’ll do, but it may be our only chance to get useful testimony out of her.”
Sarge looked skeptical. “Let’s see how she responds to the ring.”
Zoe knelt down in front of the wheelchair and brought her face close to Kuyeya’s. “I have a present from your mommy,” she said, holding up the ring. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
Kuyeya’s reaction surpassed all of Zoe’s hopes. Her mouth stretched into a wide smile and laughter bubbled out of her. She cupped the ring in her hands as if it were a living thing.
“Mommy loves me,” she said between chuckles. “Mommy will be home soon.” Her voice trailed off, but she whispered the last two words over and over again like a prayer. “Home soon … Home soon … Home soon.”
Zoe pictured Charity speaking the promise to her daughter as she prepared for another night in the embrace of strangers. She saw Kuyeya rehearsing it as she fell asleep in the room she had scored with her fingernails. She imagined Charity’s thoughts as she followed Doris out the door: Everything I do, I do for you.
Zoe touched Kuyeya’s face. “Yes, your mommy loves you. She loves you very much.” She looked at Sarge and saw the light of understanding in his eyes.
“Let’s introduce her to Darious,” he said.
“Your Worship,” Sarge began, when everyone had reassembled in the courtroom, “I have only a few more questions for the child. But for the inquiry to be meaningful, she must be able to see the accused clearly. I ask that you order him to stand before her.”
Benson Luchembe stood so quickly he nearly knocked over his chair. “I object! My client is not a …” He searched for the right word. “… marionette. And this trial is not cheap theater.”
“I don’t like it,” Mubita snapped at Sarge. “I indulged Ms. Fleming’s unprecedented motion, and now you ask me to modify the dimensions of this chamber.” He scribbled a few notes on his pad. “However, if the child can’t see …” He waved toward the courtroom deputy and barked, “Escort the accused to a spot beside counsel table.”
Zoe held her breath as Darious walked across the floor and stood before the witness stand. Sarge slid Kuyeya’s glasses into place and stepped aside. The girl blinked once, then twice, startled by a world suddenly in focus. What if she doesn’t react at all? Zoe thought. What if she doesn’t remember his face?
“Kuyeya,” Sarge said softly, “your mommy’s ring is pretty, isn’t it?”
The girl nodded.
“Remember what Mommy said?” he went on. “Men are not supposed to touch.” He gestured at Darious. “Did this man touch you where only Mommy was supposed to touch?”
Kuyeya cast a glance at Darious and looked away. For excruciating seconds nothing happened. No one in the courtroom moved. No one dared to speak. The silence was complete.
Then Kuyeya looked at Darious a second time. Slowly, she started to rock. Then she began to groan. Finally, the dam broke and words poured out of her in a torrent.
“Giftie is gone, Auntie is gone,” she said, staring at the floor. “The door is open. The street is noisy. The boy is running. The car is loud. The man has sweets.” The cadence of her rocking increased. “Men not supposed to touch. Not supposed to touch.”
Zoe sat riveted, knowing how close they were to a breakthrough. Yet the last push was also the most delicate. If Sarge missed the mark, even slightly, he could lose her.
“Kuyeya,” Sarge said with consummate gentleness, like he was trying to wake her from sleep, “Did this man touch you? Did he hurt you?”
The girl faced Darious and her groaning ceased. Her mouth moved but no sound came out. Zoe studied her lips and gripped Joseph’s hand. Come on, Kuyeya, say it! Say the words!
Suddenly, the girl blurted out, “He touched me. He wasn’t supposed to touch. He touched me. He wasn’t supposed to touch.” She repeated the accusation a third time, as if to seal the truth of her words.
Her testimony transformed the courtroom. Instantly, Darious lost his smugness; Benson Luchembe slumped in his seat; his team sat motionless; Sarge beamed; Niza’s eyes shimmered with tears—something Zoe had never seen before; Sister Irina looked astonished; Timothy, the law clerk, stopped his scribbling. Zoe caught the harsh light in Frederick’s eyes, the absolute determination. She faced the judge and her joy turned sour. He sat on the bench like a potted plant, looking unimpressed. Don’t you dare take this away from her, she thought, struggling to contain her indignation.
At once Mubita waved toward Darious. “I’ve heard enough. Get back in the dock. Sarge, I assume you have no further questions.”
“I’m finished, Your Worship,” Sarge said.
The judge looked at Luchembe. “Do you wish to cross-examine?”
The defense attorney shook his head.
Mubita sat back in his chair. “By my count the next witness is your last.”
“That’s correct,” Sarge replied.
“Get to it then.”
Sarge pushed Kuyeya to the bar and Zoe took over from there, wheeling her out of the courtroom. The girl’s hands were folded tightly in her lap, and she was whispering something about her mother. When they reached the arcade, Zoe prised the ring from the girl’s grasp and slipped it on her middle finger—the only finger large enough to fit it.
“You did so well,” she said, kissing Kuyeya’s head. “I’m very proud of you.” She looked at Sister Irina. “Take her home. The music and the garden will soothe her.”
“I hope so,” Sister Irina replied quietly.
Zoe saw Jan Kruger watching her from a bench nearby. Her first thought was unkind: You kept your distance. Her second was more charitable: At least you’re here.
“Dr. Kruger,” she said, walking toward him.
He stood up. “Call me Jan. The formalities seem a touch out of place.”
“Do you have the paperwork?”
“It’s all here.” He held up a leather satchel.
They entered the courtroom together, and Zoe escorted him to the bar. Then she turned around and stared at Frederick. The elder Nyambo looked stunned.
“Your Worship,” Sarge said, “Dr. Jan Kruger is my final witness.”
After the judge swore him in, Sarge ran through the doctor’s credentials. Jan answered confidently, yet cautiously, his diction exacting.
“You are a university professor and a medical doctor?”
“I teach epidemiology, yes. And I do clinical work in the townships.”
“I’d like to focus on your activities in 1996. What were you doing in March and April of that year?”
“I was wrapping up a study at the Livingstone General Hospital. We were seeking to identify discernible links between HIV infection and the incidence of common childhood illnesses—pneumonia, malaria, TB, and diarrhea.”
“Did you do any teaching alongside the research?”
Jan nodded. “I taught a practicum course at the nursing school.”
“Was there a nursing student with whom you worked closely duri
ng that period?”
“There was. Her name was Charity Mizinga.”
Sarge glanced at the judge to make sure he was paying attention. “How close were the two of you?” he asked.
Jan took a moment to answer. “We were intimate.”
Whispers broke out in the gallery and the judge’s temper flared. “Quiet in the courtroom!” He turned his frown toward Jan Kruger. “Go on.”
“When you say intimate,” Sarge continued, “what do you mean?”
With the precision of a clinician, Jan summarized his affair with Charity—their rapport as doctor and nurse, their brief romance, and the way he broke her heart.
“When did you last see her?” Sarge asked.
“In April of 1996. Before she moved to Lusaka.”
“At that time, did she have a child?”
Jan shook his head. “She did not.”
“You say she moved to Lusaka. Do you know why she did that?”
“I’m afraid I suggested it.”
Zoe glanced at Darious and saw his confusion. This is part of the story you’ve never heard before.
“Why did you suggest it?” Sarge inquired.
“Because Frederick Nyambo had offered her a job and promised to take care of her.”
Shock registered on the judge’s face. “Explain yourself,” he demanded, ignoring Sarge who was on the verge of asking another question.
Jan faced Mubita, a look of resignation in his eyes. “Frederick was a patient of mine,” he said, and then proceeded to tell the judge the rest of the story.
When he finished speaking, Sarge asked, “Do you know what happened to Charity after she left Livingstone?”
“I do. Frederick hired her as his personal assistant and had an affair with her.”
“Your Worship!” Luchembe objected loudly. “Frederick Nyambo is not on trial here!”
“That’s quite right,” Mubita agreed. “I may not admit any of this testimony. But Dr. Kruger has come all the way from South Africa. I want to hear what he has to say.”
“Have you seen this before?” Sarge went on, holding up a spiral-bound notebook.
The first volume of the journal, Zoe thought. The courtroom is about to explode.
The Garden of Burning Sand Page 30
