*
Greta, Joshua, Lolo and I were sprawled out on the lounge floor drawing dog-training machines. Greta and Joshua equipped their contraptions with flashing lights, trap doors, automatic whistles and spring-loaded bones on elastic bands. Lolo was busy with something that looked like a big brown rectangle. I was mainly watching, waiting for Denzil to pick me up to do some shopping for my birthday party.
“I’m finished,” Lolo stuck her piece of paper under my nose.
“That looks very interesting,” I said absent-mindedly. “What is it?”
“A smashed brown door,” Joshua said.
“A skew table without legs,” Greta said.
Lolo pushed her lower lip out. “Oh, you are so stupid. It’s a piece of wood.”
“Excellent,” I said. “How does it work?”
Lolo sighed, exasperated with such an idiotic question. “I throw the piece of wood, the dog brings it back, so I’ve trained the dog.”
“Brilliant Lolo, you…”
“Hi,” Denzil stuck his head through the door.
Something is wrong.
“Are you ready, Mathilda?” His face was as white as snow.
“Ja.” I jumped up and walked towards him.
Normally he would come and kiss me.
My legs turned to jelly.
That’s it. He’s found another girlfriend.
We walked to the car in silence. Denzil moved like a robot. I noticed his eyes were red.
Maybe he’s got the flu. Lots of people are having flu lately.
My hopes rose.
We climbed into the Chev. Denzil took my hand. He stared straight ahead. I waited. His hand was cold as ice. 2 hadedas took off from a blue gum tree filling the sky with their cries.
“Victoria is dead,” Denzil croaked.
I felt like a horse had kicked my guts out. Victoria dead! My brain couldn’t take it in. Tears were running down Denzil’s face. He put his head on my shoulder. I stroked him gently. 30 seconds ago I had thought anything would be better than to loose Denzil. But now…Victoria DEAD? All of a sudden everything stopped. My head was empty and the rest of the world didn’t exist anymore. Only Denzil and me. Sitting on the bench in the Chev. Clinging to each other. And some kind of ache screaming ‘Victoria’ from somewhere deep inside.
I didn’t know for how long we sat there. At some stage I felt strong enough to ask: “When did it happen?”
Denzil straightened up and blew his nose. “This morning.”
“And…how?”
“Nobody knows. They found her car smashed up next to the Cape Town road.”
“Were there any other people?”
“No, she was travelling by herself.”
“I can’t believe it. Just the other day she told me about her trip to Paris…the exhibition in the Musée de l’Homme…and that she went to see fireworks on the Montmartre…”
“Ja, she had a lekker trip.
“How did it happen?”
Denzil sighed. “There are all sorts of possibilities. She swerved because some animal crossed the road, a tyre burst…or somebody forced her off the road…”
“What d’you mean somebody forced her off the road?”
“Just that. And there are lots of places along that stretch of road where a car can hit a rock or roll down a steep slope.”
“Denzil, are you saying that mebbe it wasn’t just an accident?”
“At the moment one can’t say anything. There aren’t any reports out yet. You know, Victoria was on her way to a Black Sash meeting. It’s just odd how many weird accidents happen to people who are against the government.”
The funeral was on the Friday. A thick mist had blown in from the sea. V.B. looked like ghost city. I was sitting between Denzil and Harriet in the Chev. Nobody said a word. There wasn’t much movement in the streets. When the weather was lousy V.B. people stayed at home. We crossed the whole town, each one of us wrapped in their own thoughts.
I thought about what my Rosicrucian grandparents had told us: when somebody dies it means that they’ve fulfilled what they were meant to do in this lifetime, and they were ready to move on; and one shouldn’t be too sad because that would only hold the soul back on its journey. I remembered the few funerals I had been to. There were the ones in churches where everybody cried, and if you didn’t, people thought you were a stone hearted monster that didn’t give a hoot about the deceased. Then there were funerals in temples where nobody cried and people walked around with smiles that seemed to come from some other dimension. As a kid that whole funeral business had confused me, until I worked out, that religions are man made and are limited and none are absolute.
“Look at that,” Denzil broke the silence.
Through the mist I could make out people on the pavement. Black people. Just standing there.
“There must be thousands of them,” Harriet gasped. “They are bidding farewell to Victoria.”
The little chapel was crammed with whites. Everybody cried. When the service was over, the fog had got even denser. While the coffin was being lowered into the grave I glanced around. At a ‘respectful’ distance hundreds of blacks were standing. I threw some petals on Victoria’s coffin and wished her soul well on its journey. Shortly afterwards people started to leave.
Denzil was just putting the key into the Chev’s ignition when we heard a kind of hum. It rose to a chorus of a thousand black voices. I felt goosebumps all over my body.
Harriet smiled for the first time that day. “They are singing a hymn for Victoria.”
Zebra Horizon Page 48