Tandia

by Bryce Courtenay

  'Phew!' Hymie said. 'And you, Tandia Patel, would have made an excellent Old Testament prophet! I think I'm going to have a good brandy after that. Will you join me?'

  Tandia attempted a smile, though she was still somewhat overwrought. 'Yes please, Hymie, I need it more than you do!' She was conscious that she might have alienated Peekay, even lost his affection, and she felt a stab of actual pain in her breast at the thought of this. But, for the first time in her life, she'd spoken the burning in her belly, she'd released the fist that clamped her heart, she'd let the hate surface. More than this, she'd shouted it. She had opened the doors of the dark little room and spread the carefully folded sheets of her hate out so that they billowed in the wind. Hate was the driving force which had kept her going through the years of despair and misery, through the deaths of Juicey Fruit Mambo and of Mama Tequila; now, at last, she'd articulated the source of her power and she felt suddenly whole and strong.

  Hymie handed Tandia a brandy balloon and Tandia brought it up to her lips. The sharp, bright fumes of the brandy struck her nostrils and then she felt the warm glow expand throughout her breast as she took the first sip. Even brandy tastes better, she thought to herself. She ventured a glance at Peekay who sat with his eyes downcast. She was in love with a dreamer, an impossible dreamer. He actually believed in good as a force, despite everything, he still believed. How did he do that? Tandia didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, all she knew was that she loved him and that, curiously, she could keep her love in a separate compartment to her hate, that both could co-exist within her.

  'Well, we're in trouble.' We're split. My task is to convince one of you to change your mind,' Hymie said, coming to sit on the arm of the leather couch beside Tandia. He looked into the brandy balloon as he started to speak, as though he saw within it a truth he was about to pronounce. 'I think you're both missing the point,' he said quietly. 'We have been placed in a position which will decide the lives of two men. That pompous idiot Cogsweel was right in one thing, our chances are almost nil in terms of saving Gideon from the gallows. If he is found guilty of treason, as he almost certainly will be, there can be only one result. Our case against Geldenhuis, despite what Pretoria may try to do, is strong enough to get a conviction, particularly if we've got the world media watching. In other words, if things remain as they are, two men are going to die. Or, if we agree to the swap, two men remain alive.' Hymie looked up from the brandy balloon. 'Don't you see? We've been given the power over life and death! Don't think of these two lives as belonging to Mandoma and Geldenhuis, a freedom fighter and a cruel, corrupt member of the secret police. See them as two men, any two men. We are being asked to sentence them to death or release them. Can we honestly put on the black cap and pronounce sentence so as not to damage the precious principle of natural justice? In the end natural justice has to exist in the hearts of man! That means in my heart, your heart, Peekay and yours, Tandy! It doesn't begin in a society, it begins with each of us. Is Mama Tequila's death paid for if Geldenhuis dies? If my father had died, would I feel recompensed when they strung Jannie Geldenhuis up on a piece of rope? I don't think so!' Hymie gulped at his brandy and then continued, 'When the British liberated the death camp at Dachau they found scribbled on one of the latrine walls these words, Together since the world began, the madman and the lover. The concept that we can prevent murder by murdering is barbaric and strains the quality of natural justice so that it is rendered useless! I violently disagree with Tandia's point of view, though I think I can understand it. I know a great many Jews feel the same way about the German people. But, Peekay, I cannot reconcile your justice with the qualities of mercy and compassion, which are surely the very cornerstones of natural justice? If we make the decision not to make the swap between these two nameless men, we deny the very principle on which your case rests. Our choice is not between justice or tyranny; it is far more fundamental, we must choose between the madman and the lover in each of us.'

  The room was very quiet for what seemed like a long time, then Peekay looked up. 'I agree,' he said simply.

  Hymie walked over and kissed his friend on the brow.

  Then he brightened suddenly. 'Why don't you both sleep here tonight? Tandia, you can get up early and take a taxi home. I have a special reason.' He paused and then pronounced the single word, 'kippers'. He turned back to Peekay. 'I've had half a dozen of the loathsome creatures flown out from Fortnum & Mason as a special treat.' He turned to explain to Tandia. 'They're a predilection he learned from Doris with the wonderful tits and I'm even willing to have the whole place stink for days. After all, what are friends for, if they can't tolerate the odd really nasty habit between each other?' Hymie grinned, and Tandia knew that what he was telling her, despite having heard how she felt, was that he loved her. 'What are kippers?' she asked.

  Peekay looked at her. 'Taken together with eggs and tomatoes, the ultimate breakfast experience. If you will share my kippers, Tandy, all is forgiven!'

  FORTY-THREE

  The one good thing about escaping from custody with police permission is that you don't have to run for your life expecting a bullet in your back. Gideon escaped from the police kwela-kwela which was taking him from Pretoria Prison to court (or that's what they told him on the morning). He hadn't been told of the plan and was more than a little confused when the police van stopped and appeared to be making a complicated turn in a narrow road, moving back and forwards several times before coming to a halt in an opposite direction.

  He could smell dust in the interior of the van and the scrunch of tyres told him they were off the tarred road. Next he heard the rattle of the chain as the back doors were unlocked, flinging bright daylight into the dark van.

  'Get out, maak gou, jong!' a white police officer ordered.

  'What for?' Gideon asked, remaining seated.

  'Uit, kaffir!'

  Gideon looked out of the back of the van to see they'd pulled up on a lonely dirt road, in what looked a little like a kloof, for there was a krans rising steeply on either side of the road which stretched back to the end of two koppies then turned abruptly to the left.

  They're going to kill me, was his first thought as he sheltered his eyes, stooping and stepping out into the blinding December morning.

  'What are you going to do?' he asked querulously, convinced he was experiencing the final minutes of his life.

  'Here, man.' A second officer handed him the large padlock lock from the back door of the van, 'hold this so your fingerprints are on it, make sure, also your thumb, okay?'

  'What are you going to do?' Gideon asked again, taking the lock in his 'cuffed hands and doing as the officer required.

  The officer took back the lock carefully and placed it hanging open on the hasp. 'Okay, fuck off kaffir!' the first police officer instructed.

  'Then you will shoot me!' Gideon cried.

  'You escaping officially, man! Go on, voetsek!' The officer pointed down the dirt road with a sweep of his hand.

  Gideon held up his hands showing his handcuffs. If he was going to die he wanted to die unshackled. 'Can you make loose my hands, please? You can put them back after you have killed me,' he said to the policeman.

  'No way, man! You can't escape with your hands free, it's not right if you got no handcuffs on, it makes the police look blerrie silly. Now run, jong! Or I bring the sjambok, you hear?'

  'How can I pick the lock and escape when I'm wearing handcuffs?' Gideon asked sensibly.

  'Hey! You trying to be cheeky, kaffir?' The second officer stepped forward, his face menacing, his forefinger held under Gideon's nose. Gideon backed away, then turned suddenly and started to run down the road, zig-zagging frantically, expecting the bullet in his back any moment. But all he heard were the two policemen laughing. He couldn't leave the road; the rocky slopes on either side of it would have slowed him down and made him a sitting duck as he attempted to climb to safety.


  'Hey, kaffir! You drunk or something?' Peekay stepped into the middle of the road, grinning broadly. Gideon looked fearful; there was no recognition on his face, his memory was smudged with fear. He glanced backwards to see the police van pulling away, moving in the opposite direction. 'Whoa!' Peekay caught him at the same moment as his mind snapped out of panic. The two men embraced, Gideon panting frantically, his head on Peekay's shoulder. 'I see you, my brother,' Peekay said, patting Gideon on the back as though he was a small child who needed comforting.

  Gideon pulled away at last. 'I don't know…how is it…this thing…Peekay?' he said in English, gasping out the words.

  They reached the car and Peekay opened the door on the passenger side, taking a pair of bolt cutters from the floor. 'I hope to hell I know how to use these things. The guy in the hardware shop showed me, but I couldn't exactly explain to him why I wanted them. So here goes!' With some trouble Peekay finally managed to. remove the handcuffs and, placing them in the glove compartment, said, 'We'll throw them into a river somewhere.'

  Gideon rubbed his wrists, 'When I'm prime minister, remind me not to make you Minister for Industry!' They both fell about laughing, their tension escaping like a suddenly punctured inner-tube.

  'There's a cold chicken, some fruit and two cokes on the back seat. Help yourself, I even brought paper napkins!'

  They drove directly to Swaziland crossing the border at Havelock where they showed the travel permits Peekay had obtained in Johannesburg. After this simple formality they continued on down the road for about a mile when Peekay saw Julius. Despite the heat he was still in his ancient army greatcoat, standing waiting for them beside the road.

  Peekay drew up beside the little man. Julius stood to rigid attention and gave the thumbs-up salute. 'Sakubona, uJenene! Amandla! Greetings, General! Power!'

  'It is twice now you have helped the people. You are now an officer in Umkonto we Sizwe,' Gideon announced solemnly, placing his hand on Julius's shoulder.

  Julius, overcome, started to cry. 'Officers don't cry!'

  Peekay said, trying not to laugh.

  'You've lost another tooth, old man! You better be careful, you don't have too many to spare.'

  'It's okay, officers in Umkonto we Sizwe are often toothless,' Gideon laughed.

  'Usually after they've been interviewed by the Special Branch.'

  Julius seemed to think this was enormously funny and cackled a great deal, though the tears continued to run down his cheeks. 'Haya, haya!' he said at last, 'The woman who shares my blanket buys only gristle, my teeth are not good fighters!' He got into the back of the car, immediately filling it with rich pungency. Then he produced a Swaziland passport from somewhere inside his army coat and handed it to Gideon. 'Your passport, General, it has also in it a visa for Tanzania.'

  Gideon examined the passport which looked well used and had a number of exit stamps as well as the entry and departure stamps of several African countries. His name and picture looked as well worn as the rest of the document. It was an excellent forgery.

  They stopped at Pigg's Peak for Julius to get off and catch the bus to Bulembu, back to his village. Peekay got out of the car and walked around to the boot where he removed a large box with a cellophane window forming most of the lid. It was a cashmere blanket in a brilliant scarlet. 'It is for Somojo, Julius. Last time I came with empty hands.'

  'Ngiya bonga Inkosi,' Thank you, Lord. You are well remembered in the village. I am always there when you need me.'

  Gideon and Peekay arrived at Matsapa airport on the outskirts of Manzini in plenty of time for the three o'clock Heron flight to Salisbury, the capital of Southern Rhodesia. Peekay handed him a ticket, several loose bank notes and a small book of travellers' cheques. The two friends embraced. 'Here we go again, my brother, hamba kahle, go well.'

  Gideon was too moved to reply and his eyes welled up with tears. He turned and walked towards the small plane, not looking back. Even from the back he looked like a fighter. 'So long, champ,' Peekay whispered, 'keep punching, you hear?' The lump in his chest was about to burst and he hurried back to the car.

  Peekay drove into Manzini to call Tandia long distance from the post office. Then he called home to Barberton to tell his mother to expect him for the night. Dum answered the phone, picking up the receiver and immediately announcing in slow monosyllabic English, 'We are very, very sorry, the missus is gone for having tea by missus…

  Oost…Oos…' She hesitated, obviously having trouble getting her tongue around the name of the lady Peekay's mother was visiting.

  'Missus Oosthuisen! It's me, you silly umFazi!' Peekay laughed, feeling suddenly better as Dum squealed with delight at the sound of his voice. The news of Gideon's escape would be on the evening news and he was grateful he wouldn't be in Johannesburg to deal with an over-excited press. A dose of Dee and Dum innocence was just the sort of cheer-up medicine he needed before the farce of the Geldenhuis murder trial which was to begin in two days.

  The less said about the trial the better. Geldenhuis was acquitted and the judge granted his lawyers permission to sue Red for wrongful arrest. Jannie Geldenhuis was restored to his rank and was back on the job a week later. In church congregations throughout the land prayers of thanks were offered to a merciful God who had once again demonstrated that, in crucial matters, He was prepared to step in and see that the right thing was done by His children. Colonel Jannie Geldenhuis was booked for nearly a year's church appearances.

  Flyspeck Mendoza was found guilty and sentenced to death, but his case exposed the slavery and brutality on many white backveld farms, and the government was forced to open an inquiry.

  Just before dawn, on 15 January 1967, Peekay, Tandia and Hymie stood silently outside Pretoria Prison. As the moon began to fade and the first light appeared Peekay heard the words of Inkosi-Inkosikazi in his head. 'You can see the moon rising over Africa and you are at peace with the night, unafraid of the great demon Skokiaan, who comes to feed on the dark night, tearing its black flesh until, at last, it is finished and the new light comes to stir the sleeping herd boys and send them out to mind the lowing cattle.'

  As the light came to the dark prison so came the voices of the black inmates as they began to sing their brother to his death. The marvellous voices of Africa, sometimes soft and low and sometimes thundering, carried down the cold, polished, disinfected corridors of iron as the inmates sang the hymns of praise in their cells. Then, as six o'clock approached, their voices rose in the final choruses of the Concerto to the Great Southland. First the Sotho, then the Ndebele, followed by the Swazi and the Shangaani, and finally the Zulu voices rose, huge and awesome as they sung the victory song of the great Shaka, using the flats of their hands to bang on the steel doors of their cells as the mighty Zulu impi had done with their feet to make the earth thunder. Then, as the hour struck, all the tribes came together, humming the glorious finale, the refrain of each of the tribes. The huge prison vibrated with the deep, haunting male voices and the wardens stood in silent awe as the kid, who had no tribe, was sung to glory by all the tribes. At six o'clock precisely, Little Flyspeck Mendoza's neck was snapped and he was tom from the tree of life.

  With the star missing, and the anti-apartheid world celebrating the escape of Mandoma, the international media stayed away from the treason trial of the other five men on the truism that nobody comes to the pantomime to see the fairies. Thus the government almost achieved its aim as the trial chugged to its inevitable and pre-arranged ending. But on the final day the prosecution dropped a bombshell. One of the prisoners had turned state's witness and they asked permission from the bench to put him on the witness stand. The prisoner who'd decided to sing was an ex-mine boy named Samson Mungazela, who had served as boss boy to a diamond driller on Randfontein Consolidated Mines and was the explosives expert on Gideon's team. He'd been hurt in an accident underground several years previously and had been given a j
ob in the High Explosives Depot on the surface. It was he who had supplied Tandia and Johnny Tambourine with gelignite when Tandia visited the mine compound once a week in her capacity as free legal adviser to the migrant black mine workers.

  Tandia had always parked in the same spot, reversing her beetle-backed Volkswagen into a small alley between two mine buildings which could be approached from the rear without being observed. The smuggled sticks of gelignite would then be placed under the rear seat while she was away from the car.

  Tandia had never told Peekay and Hymie that she had been actively transporting explosives for Umkonto we Sizwe for three years, and that apart from being its first recruited female member she was the highest-ranking woman in the resistance movement.

  The prosecuting barrister, a brilliant contemporary of Peekay's named Martinus Kriel, asked for permission to put Mungazela in the witness box. 'The accused has evidence, your honour, which we believe is pertinent to this trial.'

  Peekay rose immediately. 'Objection, your honour, the witness has already testified to this court and my learned colleague for the prosecution has commenced the summary of the state's case against the accused.'

  Tandia had passed a note to Peekay as he sat down. It said, Object! Mungazela could implicate me! Peekay's heart stood still. What had Tandia been involved in?

  Kriel picked his words carefully. 'Your honour, we believe that by cross-examining this witness again we can prove that a member of the counsel for defence is directly implicated in a culpable way in the indictment for which we are prosecuting counsel.'

  'Objection!' Peekay called. But he was hardly heard in the uproar which followed Kriel's statement.

  'Order! Order!' Judge Boshoff shouted using his gavel repeatedly, but it was nearly a minute before the courtroom was brought to silence again. 'There is no need for you to object, Advocate Peekay. I will do so myself. What the counsel for the prosecution is indicating is highly irregular and should not be handled in this manner.' He turned to the jury. 'I require the jury to retire from this court until they are recalled. Both senior counsel will then approach the bench.' He brought his gavel down once again. 'This court is adjourned for fifteen minutes!'