*
In my dream I was decorating the school for the fete. Mr Martin helped me to hang up a lime green garland with golden spirals on it. We had run out of prestik but he said:”No problem, I’ve got some chewing gum.” He fixed the garland with a huge orange wad to the wall. When he pulled his hand back an orange filigree grew out of his palm. In the middle of the filigree sat the Dominee like a big fat spider. The little dove flew by in an elegant curve and picked the Dominee’s eye out. One of the dove’s feathers sprouted through the empty socket, entangling Mr Perlman’s feet. He broke into a nervous giggle. Sweat poured down his face, collecting in a puddle, that soon grew into a glassy ocean. The ocean dissolved Mr Perlman’s clothes. His whole body was covered in freckles and his little wrinkly penis peeked out of some thinnish, carroty hair. “It’s Hannes who is bird watching, not me,” said Marieke indignantly. Perlman answered:”You may have boobs like a Bavarian barmaid but you are not entitled to any treats because you have crossed the colour line.” Marieke looked at herself and screamed. She was as black as Paulina. The violet eyed lady from the bus appeared with a burning magic candle. “Don’t worry,” she comforted Marieke,”under the skin we are all pink.” Marieke stared at her stupefied. “I have never thought about it that way. Let’s have a look.” She started to peel her skin off. “Now that is quite fascinating, said Perlman. “I hate freckles.” And he rolled his skin off like a panty hose. Miss Pembleton grabbed the 2 hides and stated:” These are ideal for new school uniforms. “We’ll need some additional material for the school tie.” “Ja natürlich,” said Mrs Davies. “What about that?” asked Mr Martin and pointed into the air. Rosie, the caretaker’s dog, rode on a pink bicycle across the sky. The yellow fur on the shaved patches around her stitches had started to re-grow. “Young bitches shouldn’t ride on bicycles,” growled the head boy. “Anyway, that’ll give us a nice colour scheme,” said Miss Pembleton and pulled out a revolver.
It was the crashing of Rosie’s bike on the ground that woke me up.
I looked drowsily around the room. A silvery moonbeam lit the little dove’s cage. The dove was sleeping on its perch. I grinned sleepily.
Well done birdie, to pull the Dominee’s eye out.
I yawned.
That old witch Pembleton is capable of murder just for a school tie. She doesn’t know it yet but she’ll braai in hell one day. Poor Rosie is still whimpering.
I turned into a block of ice. There was a dog whimpering and it wasn’t Rosie and it was right here in the house. I heard it again.
Shit, if the whimper in my dream was a real one then what about that crash I just heard?
I sat up and listened to the night. There the whimper was again. I slid under the blanket and pulled it over my head.
A burglary! Somebody has smashed a window and given poison to the dogs. They are dying. That’s why they are whimpering. Mebbe there is a whole gang of murderers in the house.
My heartbeat shook every atom of my being. The whole universe could hear it.
There was that whine again. This time louder. I never knew that terror consists of cold explosions and hot waves inundating your body, pulling your skin tight to tearing point and flattening every brain cell against your skull. My T-shirt was already sopping wet with sweat. A double howl floated through the house.
Heiliger Bimbam! Hitchcock, you can retire.
The dogs howled and howled and howled again.
Mebbe the gangsters have left… otherwise they would make the dogs shut up…. Hell, I can’t lie here and wet my brooks. I’ll have to do something.
The moment I had made up my mind I felt better. A sort of cool calm came over me as I opened my door in slow motion and carefully tiptoed through the house. The moon shone through a window and dipped the passage into a cold, colourless light. The dogs were still whining. Sounded as if they were in Marieke’s room. How did they get there? They normally slept in the hall. I grabbed a knobkerrie from Hannes’ collection out of the big wicker basket opposite the study. The moonlight faded the more I advanced, and I moved deeper into a tunnel of shades of grey, ending in a pitch black hole. A floorboard creaked. I stopped. Listened to my heartbeat – other than that – absolute silence. I opened Marieke’s door slowly slowly. Hintsa came to lick my hand. Shaka sat in the gap of the not quite closed bathroom door. The bathroom lamp cast a yellow beam on him. He heaved his big body heavily towards me as if a ton of lead was sitting on his chest. On the white tiles of the bathroom floor a puddle of blood spread its crimson fingers.
I think I screamed. I switched the light on. A revolver was lying on the bedside table.
Shit, the murder weapon! The gangsters left it here.
I quickly threw it into a drawer. If they came back they wouldn’t shoot me with it, the bastards. The puddle on the floor grew bigger. Shaka returned to his old position in the door. I wasn’t so brave.
I must go and look what is going on in that bathroom.
Shaka whined.
I must.
A night jar screamed.
I must.
I went. The door was blocked. I couldn’t open it any further.
Has Marieke fallen against it?
I couldn’t put my head through the gap. “Marieke, can you hear me? It’s me, Mathilda…” No answer. I tried to push the door with my body but it didn’t move. The puddle on the floor grew bigger. In places it began to coagulate into a dark red gluey mass. Vivid fresh blood oozed silently along the grooves between the tiles.
Quickly. It’s all a matter of time. If she’s still alive she needs a doctor fast.
I left the whimpering dogs and ran to the telephone in the hall.
The number of the hospital or the Notrufdienst. What the hell is Notrufdienst in English? And where is that bloody directory?
I couldn’t find it. I took the receiver off the hook and stared at the shiny black contraption. It stared expressionless back at me, yapping its stupid noise.
Fat lot of help. Marieke’s address book! But where does she keep it? I don’t have time to look for it. And I don’t even know the number of ‘dial a number’… hell! I don’t know anybody’s number in this country.
I sprinted back to Marieke’s room. All of a sudden a terrifying thought shot through my brain.
My fingerprints are on that gun! They’ll think it was me and I’ll rot in jail… Bullshit. I’m getting crazy… I must get her out then it won’t be murder.
The dogs were still sitting at the bathroom door. A groan came from the other side.
“Marieke? Marieke, I’m here. Don’t worry, everything is all right.”
Understatement of the century.
I tried to move the door again. No go. A big part of the puddle was solid now, dark and shiny, with little threads of bright red blood flowing the way of least resistance.
She is still bleeding. I must get a doctor…fast… but I should also stay with her…and I must…Paulina! I need Paulina to help me.
Outside I could smell the sea.
Blood is nearly like seawater, but blood is thicker than water. The ocean doesn’t coagulate. Only in dreams. Maybe this is all a shitty dream. I want to wake up.
The grass under my feet was cold and wet with dew.
They won’t put me in jail because the forensic guys know what they are doing. They’ll see other fingerprints on that gun and Paulina will be my witness.
I knocked at her window. No reply. Her door wasn’t locked. “Paulina.” Still no reply.
Boetie, can she snore.
I slid my hand across the dark, cool wall until I found the light switch.
Paulina sat up like a rocket and pulled the blanket up to her chin. She looked at me, horrified. Next to her lay a black man sleeping. He was the snorer.
“Paulina, the Madam is sick. Come fast, as fast as you can.”
There was still fresh blood creeping across the tiles.
She must have lost a litre by now. How many litres of blood does an adult have again
? 4 or 5…
Paulina came running, wearing one of her uniforms.
“Paulina, help me push that door.”
It didn’t budge. On the other side Marieke grunted.
“Paulina, where is the telephone directory?”
“The Master took it to the post office the other day to get a new one.”
Fat luck. It’s probably collecting dust in some forlorn place in Botswana right now.
Marieke groaned.
“Paulina, we need a doctor. I’ll go to Perlman.”
Shit, it’s in the middle of the night, he’ll think I am a burglar. He’ll shoot me as soon as…
”Mathilda, you must not go out there in the dark. I can call Eunice, the maid of Master Smith next door. Her kaya is right next to the hedge. Then she can tell Master Smith and he can phone the hospital.”
“Brilliant idea Paulina, hurry.”
The time until the emergency people came seemed like an eternity. Marieke groaned and grunted every now and then - at least she was still alive. I talked to her, accompanied by the whines and whimpers of the dogs. The flow of fresh blood diminished.
Is that a good sign or a bad sign?
”Marieke, everything is going to be all right. There is a specialist on his way to help you. He’ll be here in a few moments. Be strong. Just a couple of minutes more.”
Groan. Snort. Whine. Silence. Groan. Howl.
Lieber Gott. If this is ever going to end I’ll be kind to everybody…even to Perlman and to Miss Pembleton… and to myself, and I’ll…
“Marieke, I can hear them coming. You can relax now. Everything is fine.”
Paulina led a black man and a coloured into the room.
Gott sei dank. They can take over now.
My knees started to shake. In fact I was trembling from my toes to my eyeballs. I couldn’t even see straight anymore.
“Where is the patient?” The coloured asked.
“Behind that door there but one can’t open it any further. She must have fallen against it.”
“Hau, this is a lot of blood,” the black man commented.
“Ja, we better unhinge that door fast,” the coloured said.
I held the dogs back and the men lifted the door. Marieke was lying in a strange way on her side, the skin of her forehead split open and cuts from a broken blue glass in her right forearm. There were splinters of glass everywhere and blood all over the show. I think I screamed again.
“But the lady is white,” said the coloured man.
“Ja she is white, so what?” I said.
They leaned the door against the bedroom wall.
“We are a non white ambulance.”
“How do you mean a non white ambulance?”
“We can only transport non white people.”
This is a dream. This can only be a nightmare.
“But you must do something. She is nearly dead. Can’t you see?”
“Sorry Miss, we are not allowed to help a white person.”
Please, please, why can’t I wake up?
”Are you saying there is an ambulance right in front of the house and there is life saving stuff in it and you are medically trained and you’ll let her die?”
“It’s the law, Miss.”
This can’t be true.
“I’m not interested I the bloody law. Do something.”
“We can call the white ambulance.”
The 2 men dashed outside to their radio. The dogs howled. I could hardly hold them anymore.
“Paulina take the dogs into the kitchen and make some tea, please. There is nothing else you can do right now.”
I looked at the scene.
There will be a criminal investigation. We mustn’t disturb any evidence.
Groan.
She needs some comforting. Fuck the laws.
I knelt down right in the middle of the blood and the splinters and I took Marieke’s hand and stroked it. In the gap in her forehead I could see the bone of her skull.
Under the skin we are all pink…in this country nobody gives a damn. Fucking rotten place.
Marieke’s blood was sticky and cold. A peacock screamed outside. Marieke didn’t groan anymore. I put my hand on her ribs. Her chest still moved. For how long?
“Marieke only some more minutes…”
I’ve said that before. She won’t believe me anymore if she can hear me. She could be in hospital by now. Why don’t these guys hurry up?
The peacock screamed again.
When the ‘white’ ambulance arrived, Marieke was hardly breathing at all. 2 white men in smart uniforms put her on a stretcher. I held the drip.
“Name and date of birth of the patient, please.”
Good heavens. Why the hell do they waste time with that Korinthenkacker stuff.
“Shouldn’t you…”
I better shut up. It’s probably the law. Chiselled in stone and unchangeable. Even in the face of death.
I told them everything I knew.
“Any ailments?”
“High blood pressure.”
“I thought so,” said the taller guy. “She had a stroke and collapsed with that glass in her hand.”
“What?”
“It happens to people with high blood pressure. Stroke out of the blue.”
“You mean she wasn’t shot, nobody tried to kill her?”
“No, no Miss. She had a stroke.”
That was when I started to cry.
The cops won’t come to investigate my fingerprints on the gun. I’m not a murder suspect anymore. I won’t rot in jail. I…
The smaller guy grabbed the drip I was holding and said:” You better sit down, Miss. It was all a bit much for you. I’ll give you a little thing to swallow. Just relax. Everything is all right now.”
Stupid fool. Nothing will ever be the same again.
They left in a hurry with flashing lights and screaming tyres.
Big deal.
I threw the pills they had given me into the toilet and flushed them down with all the stuff that I vomited.
I don’t want to have anything to do with this bloody place anymore. If I could I’d even stop breathing until I get out of this fucking country. I’ll take the first plane I can get tomorrow.
Paulina was sitting miserably at the kitchen table, a mug of untouched tea in front of her. She looked at me with desperation in her eyes. Her face was ashen grey.
Sjoe, I never thought a black person could turn so grey. Looks kind of spooky.
“Relax Paulina. Everything is fine now.”
How often am I still going to say this tonight?
“And thanks for coming so fast, Paulina. I couldn’t have done it on my own. You were a great help.”
Paulina sighed.
“Come on Paulina. Cheer up. You’ve done a marvellous job and Marieke is with a doctor right now. She’ll be nearly like new in a week or 2.”
I hope.
Paulina sighed again. “Do you want some hot chocolate, Mathilda?”
“No thanks Paulina, but I’ll have some tea.”
The tea in the teapot was cold.
“I’ll make some fresh tea for you, Mathilda.”
“Don’t worry Paulina, I’ll just heat this one up.”
Paulina jumped up. “No no. I’ll do it.” She grabbed the teapot. Her hands were trembling so much that she spilled tea all over the table.
Poor old thing. She is in a state of shock. Maybe blood means a bad omen in her culture. I should have kept some of these pink pills for her.
“Paulina calm down. Everything is all right.”
Ha ha ha
”Do you want some hot milk with honey?”
“No thank you, Mathilda.”
Big tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I’ll get some druppels for you.”
“No Mathilda, I don’t want druppels.” Her face was amazingly pale. She looked like a ghost.
Good Lord. I hope I won’t have to go through that ambulance busi
ness again.
“Paulina, you can’t stay like this. You look sick. Why don’t you take some of your muti? Or maybe a hot water bottle would do you good.”
“No no, Mathilda.” She sighed again. And the tears kept on rolling.
I could see she fought some internal battle.
Seems to be quite serious. Has maybe got something to do with the ancestors. Hadn’t Levy-Strauss or some ethnologist seen people die like flies because they believed some evil spirit had taken up residence in their bodies?
”Mathilda, I want to talk to you.”
“Ok, let’s talk.”
Anything, as long as I don’t have to call an ambulance again.
Paulina sat up straight and took a deep breath. “Mathilda please, you must never tell the Master or anybody about the man in my room.”
The guy must be a witch doctor! Paulina thinks all that happened tonight is her fault because she has a witchdoctor sleeping in her bed.
“Listen Paulina, what happened to Marieke just now is nobody’s fault. She had a stroke. That means she started bleeding inside her head. There is nothing you or I could have done to prevent it.”
“I’m not talking about the Madam. I am talking about the man in my room.”
“Ja, the witchdoctor.”
Her eyes nearly popped out. “He is not a witchdoctor. He is my husband.”
“Wow Paulina, that’s great. Maybe you should go back to him right now. That would make you feel better.”
Sigh.
“Or go and fetch him and we all have some tea together, if you’d like that.” I got up. “What should I make? Rooibos or Ceylon or…”
She started to cry again. “Mathilda, you don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“He is my husband.”
“Ja, you told me. And he is not a witchdoctor.”
“And he doesn’t work here.”
“Well, I know that too ‘cause I’ve never seen him around.”
“Mathilda, he is not allowed to be here.” Her voice faded into a whisper. “If anybody finds out we’ll both go to jail.”
“But Paulina, you said he is your husband. Surely married people can sleep together in the same room without getting arrested.”
“Here in the white suburb we can only do that if we both work for the same Master and if we both have permission to stay on his premises. And Solomon doesn’t stay here and he hasn’t got a permit.” She started to cry again.
“But Paulina, if he is visiting surely nobody can say anything. What’s the use of being married if you can’t see each other. Maybe you’ve got it a bit wrong.”
“Mathilda, I see you don’t know this country, but I know what I am talking about. It happened to my sister and her husband. They both went to jail.”
Can’t be true. I’m getting crazy. Nightmare, nightmare, nightmare of a nightmare.
“But Paulina, that is terrible. Of course I won’t say anything, ever…But I don’t understand…”
“Nor do I Mathilda, nor do I.”
And we both wept together.
Zebra Horizon Page 10