Wednesday, September 24
Caz
Ghent
“No time for breakfast this morning, Caz, I have to be at the hairdresser’s. I have a standing monthly appointment to have my hair cut. There’s yoghurt in the fridge, help yourself. Just hurry, my appointment is at nine-thirty.”
Caz took the plain yoghurt from the fridge and wondered whether Tieneke had arranged the funeral so that it wouldn’t interfere with her “standing monthly appointment.” The container felt light. “My first train leaves just after two this afternoon from Sint-Pieters. I plan to leave here at about one and take the bus and train to Sint-Pieters. I’ll wait for you.” The night before, eyes drooping, she had googled the timetable and tried to make sense of it. She had written down the times and names of the stations, but she would like to take her time studying it this morning.
There were hardly more than three spoonfuls of yoghurt left. Caz finished it straight from the container. It wasn’t worth using a bowl.
Something about the public transport timetable didn’t quite make sense. On the last leg of her journey, the bus from Sint-Niklaas arrived at Doel at twenty-one minutes past five, while the last bus left Doel at fifty-seven minutes past six. It would give her slightly more than an hour to spend in the town. There had to be another option.
Tieneke shook her head. “I have shopping to do and things to take care of. I won’t be back before you leave. You’ll have to go when I go.”
“I can take your extra key. Surely you won’t be needing it before I get back?”
“And if you lose it? No, I’m not taking a chance.”
Caz knew it wasn’t the true reason. Tieneke just didn’t want Caz around while she was not at home. Caz threw the yoghurt container in the recycle bin, though Tieneke had told her it could not be recycled.
“Hurry up, get your suitcase. I don’t want to be late and cause the hairdresser to rush.” Tieneke fished out the yoghurt container and threw it in the garbage without a word. Caz took it to mean that she’d do anything to get Caz out of her house as quickly as possible.
Caz adjusted her significantly lighter backpack on her back, hooked the strap of her handbag over her shoulder and pulled out the handle of Tieneke’s suitcase. It was barely big enough for three or four days’ clothing and toiletries, but it made her more mobile.
“I’ll drop you at Dampoort,” Tieneke offered unexpectedly. “It will save you the bus ride.”
“Thanks, that’s kind of you.” Tieneke probably wanted to make sure she was indeed on her way. Presumably she gave no thought to the fact that Caz would have to while away more than five hours before she could catch a train to Doel.
Oh well, she could take the train to Ghent-Sint-Pieters, wander around, and do some sightseeing in that part of the city.
Waiting for Tieneke on the pavement in front of the house, Caz noticed the curtains move in the neighboring house again. This time on the ground floor, at the narrow window beside the front door, which was identical to Tieneke’s. Whoever had been peering at her had drawn the curtain again, just in time.
Tieneke stopped and opened the trunk. Caz put her bag and backpack inside and got into the front passenger seat.
Caz couldn’t help noticing again that Tieneke’s Polo was brand new. She had considered buying a new car herself a while ago and, if her memory served her correctly, the most basic Polo cost more than two hundred thousand rand. She’d had no other choice but to have her ten-year-old second-hand Camry repaired yet again the next time it broke down. Fuel guzzler or not.
It was none of her business how much money Tieneke had, or how she spent it. Fair was fair. Fien had earned her money, raising Caz.
“Your neighbors are a nosy lot, I see?”
Tieneke gave her a brief glance. “How’s that?
“They watch from behind the curtains. Do you know them?”
Tieneke shook her head. “They come and go. The rooms are rented to people who need accommodation for a week or more. It’s cheaper than paying per day.”
Exactly the kind of accommodation she was looking for, but certainly not next-door to Tieneke.
“Cassie.” Tieneke sounded hesitant. “When I called you ... I thought Mother regretted sending you away when you had nowhere to go. I thought she wanted to ask for your forgiveness. I still think so.”
Caz gave her a sceptical look. “If she had wanted forgiveness, I don’t think it was because she was sorry. She might have been afraid of what lies beyond death. Chaff and wheat, goats and sheep, heaven and hell, you know ... that kind of thing. Whatever her motive, she didn’t handle the preamble very well.”
“I know. I eavesdropped. I think when you stood there in the flesh she became flustered. Or she simply couldn’t break the old pattern.”
“And you? Do you find it hard to break the old pattern?”
Tieneke nodded. “Yes, but so do you. Don’t argue. I’m not trying to justify what Mother and I did to you. But like Tijl Uilenspiegel said: The whole world hates me, but I’m the cause of it.”
“I am the cause? How the bloody hell could I have caused you and Mother to reject me? Especially on account of something that was never my fault in the first place?”
Tieneke gave her a sidelong glance. “Not?”
Caz sighed. “No, and if you still don’t believe me after all these years, there’s nothing more I can say. Hentie is Lilah’s father. There was no other possible candidate. As I kept telling you at the time.”
“But you caused a lot of it through your attitude, Cassie. You always considered yourself better than the rest of us.”
Caz looked at her in shocked disbelief. “Now I’ve heard everything.”
“Maybe you didn’t mean to, but that was what it felt like.” Tieneke switched on the indicator and turned in at the station. When she had parked the car, she looked at Caz. “I also caused most things that happened to me. It’s not really Mother’s fault that I’m an old maid at the age of sixty-five. I was afraid of life. Maybe in a warped kind of way I found pleasure in being the aggrieved sister. I enjoyed making you feel guilty.”
Caz gave a slight laugh. “One thing I can say about you, Tieneke: you’re not afraid to call a spade a bloody shovel. I appreciate that about you, even though it’s not nice to be at the receiving end.”
Tieneke rolled her eyes. “We’re not going to try to be sisterly now, Cassie. We don’t like each other—never have and never will. I just wanted to clear the air.”
“See what I mean?” Caz turned to her. “But for what it’s worth, thanks for telling me about Ammie. About Doel and Leuven and the letter. You could have kept it to yourself.”
“I wanted to at first, but then I realized if I want to leave my old life behind, I have to get proper closure. That’s what I’ve been trying to do. For my own sake. And, yes, you’ve probably guessed it: initially I contacted you to make sure you knew you had no grounds for a claim against the estate when you found out about Mother’s death.
“I finally have a life of my own to look forward to. I have a good ten, maybe fifteen years left. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. I don’t want to spoil it with reproaches and remorse. I want to make the most of it. I want to know when you leave here I never have to see you again, never have to wonder about anything from the past. I’m buying my freedom, that’s all.”
Caz opened the door, and then paused. “Maybe I can learn something from you. I’m also merely existing most of the time, instead of living.”
“Okay, okay. Enough now. I really don’t want to know about your life. I hope you find whatever you are searching for on this journey, but whatever it might be, it is no concern of mine. I’ll see you when you fetch your things and that will be the end of it.”
Caz nodded. “Suits me. But, Tieneke, I really hope you enjoy the last stretch of your life. That you’ll make the most of
it.” She rested her hand very briefly on Tieneke’s knee before she got out. The trunk was open by the time she got there. The lid had barely shut again when Tieneke pulled away without a wave or a final greeting.
Caz stared after the car as it drove away. They had never been sisters; they would never be friends either; yet something between them had changed.
Maybe that was why she had to come so far. Not for Fien’s sake, not even to find out the truth about her birth mother, but also to get closure. On more than one level.
But, she thought as she headed for the station building, now she had embarked on yet another search.
What did she hope to find? Not necessarily a person in the flesh. Not even answers to all the secrets. Maybe just resignation. Making peace with the idea that life was a mystery.
Or maybe she was searching for herself.
Erevu
Ghent
Couldn’t the woman have taken the bus! He had been ready to ride his bike to one of the next stops and get on the same bus so that he could find out where she was going. Judging from the luggage, she was certainly not on a mere sightseeing trip.
Now he was on the bus and guessing she was going to be dropped at Dampoort, which was the closest station. He hoped and prayed he would be in time to see which train she was taking.
Erevu made certain he was the first one out when the bus stopped. He paid no attention to the clicking tongue of a fellow passenger as he pushed past. Heading for the station building, he broke into a jog.
Caz
Ghent
Caz stood at the departure board and tried to make head or tails of it. According to her notes, she had to get to Sint-Pieters and board the Lokeren train. Yet, according to this timetable, she could catch a Lokeren train from Ghent-Dampoort in less than half an hour.
“Can I help you?”
Caz turned. A tall black man of about her own age gave her a friendly smile. He was neatly dressed, his head shaven.
“The timetables can be very confusing if you’re not familiar with them.” His Flemish had a strange accent but was completely understandable.
She returned his smile. “Thanks, but I think I’ll manage.” She hoped.
Caz dragged her case to the refreshment counter and bought a bottle of water and a packet of crisps. The man bought a sandwich, she noticed as she walked off in search of Platform 9.
The train was on time and fortunately not full. She found a seat and sat looking through the window. She saw the tall man get into the next carriage. She might as well have asked him about the route, as he seemed to be traveling in the same direction.
Caz closed her eyes and lay back against the headrest.
Talk about a wild-goose chase. What did she think she would learn about Ammie Pauwels in Doel? Why did she want to find out anything in the first place, if it was so clear that the woman wanted nothing to do with her?
It was a bit like Everest. People say they climb the mountain because it’s there. It’s the only reason they need. Unfortunately she didn’t know where her own Everest was or whether it even existed.
Ammie
Leuven
Someone was crying.
“No! Oh, no! Miss Ammie, open your eyes. Please!”
Lieve’s voice.
“The doctor is on his way. Just open your eyes, my dear Miss Ammie.”
It was peculiarly difficult to open her eyes, but she managed. “Lieve?” Her voice sounded odd. It took a great effort to articulate. Her tongue had become lazy.
“Miss Ammie! Thank God, thank God.”
She heard the distant sound of a doorbell.
“The doctor!” Lieve moved out of her sight.
Ammie closed her eyes. So tired, so incredibly tired. Woozy.
People spoke, but she was too tired to try to make sense of the words. Only one word got through to her. Stroke.
“Who ...” No, too tired to think.
“Elijah,” she muttered.
Fifteen
Caz
Kieldrecht
What a disaster. It had been easy to get to Sint-Niklaas, but there was only one bus to Doel and it only left at five past five. Kieldrecht, she had found out when she asked about the nearest town to Doel, was about ten kilometers away.
So here she was at Kieldrecht. There were two buses to Doel per day, but she had missed the first one, and the next one would also be leaving at five past five. She would arrive at Doel at exactly the same time she would have if she’d caught the train at Sint-Niklaas. There was no taxi service to Doel, as she had hoped.
She would have to while away three hours here and she’d have only an hour and a half to spend in Doel before the only bus back departed. She could have spent the three hours so much better in Doel.
If she didn’t have the bloody suitcase to drag she could have walked the ten kilos, but she wouldn’t have saved much time anyway. She wasn’t exactly Caster Semenya.
Caz sat down on a bench and rested her forehead on the handle of the case. It was madness. What was she hoping to achieve anyway?
If she hadn’t been so keen to see Lilah on her birthday, she would have changed the date of her return flight to South Africa and forgotten this whole escapade. Although for months to come her credit card would remind her of this wild-goose chase.
“Ma’am?”
Caz looked up. A sturdy girl with black-framed glasses and a pink streak in her short pitch-black hair stood in front of her. She had noticed the child earlier. One couldn’t really miss her.
“I heard you ask about transport to Doel?”
Caz nodded.
“My friend has a car. He sometimes takes people there. For the raves. Fifteen euros if it’s only one person.”
Two hundred and twenty-five rand for ten kilometers? It was crazy. But at least she could get something done. Hopefully. Here she was just wasting her time. But raves? Never mind, she would just have to bite the bullet. “Can he take me now?”
The girl produced a neon pink cellphone from the back pocket of her jeans and pushed a button. Caz couldn’t follow the colloquial Flemish but the girl nodded and raised her eyebrows enquiringly.
Caz gave an answering nod.
“He’ll be here in about three minutes.” She smiled and returned the cellphone to her pocket.
Four minutes later a clapped-out car drew up. The bald fellow behind the wheel did not get out. The girl slipped into the front seat.
Caz struggled to get all her stuff on the back seat. Her feet were buried under papers and takeaway containers when at last she managed to sit. A pale, cupped hand adorned with tattoos was held aloft. Caz dug in her wallet and placed fifteen euros in the hand.
Off they went.
The two up front laughed and talked nonstop and barely ten minutes later they stopped at a windmill.
“Dank uw wel,” Caz said somewhat sarcastically as she wrestled her possessions from the back seat.
She had barely closed the door when the car pulled away without a goodbye or a stuff-you from the two youngsters.
Anyway. Here she was.
Erevu
Sint-Niklaas
All he could do was take the train back to Ghent. Almost an hour’s wait for the next one. Erevu could howl with frustration.
Fortunately he had overheard the woman speak to the conductor. Why on earth was she going to Doel? Only squatters still lived there. At least, that was what he had been told. He didn’t know the place. He just knew he would stick out like a sore thumb in a deserted place like that. She would recognize him from Dampoort and if she had a single brain cell she would realize he was following her.
If only she had accepted his offer of help, he could have found out where she was heading and pretended to be going there as well. Then she wouldn’t have found it strange if she spotted him at her fi
nal destination.
It was no good giving in to his frustration, however. He had to plan ahead. Focus on his mission.
Alice Auma herself had told him three things. The Ten Commandments was the only yardstick. Sinners had to be eradicated to bring about peace and prosperity. War and violence rid the world of sinners, she had said.
“But thou shalt not kill?” he had tested her.
“No, thou shalt not. Except in war. That’s how wickedness is stamped out. Read your Bible.”
He did. Later he learned that thousands of her Holy Spirit Movement soldiers were impervious to bullets as long as they obeyed Lakwena’s commands, brought to them in the person of Alice Auma.
Alice Auma Lakwena’s soldiers were eventually vanquished. Lakwena left her. She had to flee for her life and died in a Kenyan refugee camp a few years ago.
He knew why Lakwena had abandoned her. Because of Joseph Kony, Auma’s so-called cousin—now the leader of the Lord’s Resistance Army and probably one of the cruellest monsters ever to walk this earth.
Kony didn’t wage war, let alone a holy one. He murdered, raped and mutilated as far as he went. He abducted children, forcing them to do the killing in his name. Kony didn’t have a plan. He lived according to his instincts.
Kony had to be stopped. That was why it was so important that Erevu should reclaim what they had been excluded from for more than half a century. The DRC had to be freed from the stranglehold of Kony and others like him. From all the evils Alice Auma had pointed out. Only a holy war, waged by Motetela’s followers, could liberate the DRC. And after that, the rest of Africa.
And the Caz woman was the key to the fulfilment of that goal.
Caz
Doel
It looked odd, the windmill from bygone days with the two nuclear energy cooling towers behind it. Two eras superimposed over each other.
Caz followed the steep path along the seawall to the windmill that had been transformed into a restaurant. She stopped to look at the sweeping vista. The Scheldt was an enormous river. On the opposite bank she could make out a building that might be a refinery. A massive boat was on its way to the port of Antwerp some distance ahead.
Sacrificed Page 16
