But Deliver Us from Evil

by Lauri Kubuitsile

  The letter he wants her to rewrite this time is to William Ashton at Kuruman. He’s warning him of the approaching attack. He tells them that the Bakwena are at the mercy of the well-armed Afrikaners, and the mission must beg the colonial government to intervene; if not, he cannot say what will happen to the people. They need to be given the right to defend themselves. He speaks of Kgosi Sechele’s anxiety for the Bakwena of his kingdom and how, if no help is forthcoming, he will have even more reason to resent the British and their intentions to take over his kingdom as part of the Protectorate. He hints at the fact that Sechele has access to guns and gunpowder and, if pushed, can quickly arm himself. No one wants a fully fledged war, he writes. Nothing can be gained by that, and much could be lost.

  Nthebolang writes out the letter for him. He looks it over.

  ‘Thank you, you really are such a help. More like my wife than Beatrice in that way.’

  He rests his hand on Nthebolang’s shoulder. He often makes such gestures, which Nthebolang finds uncomfortable. Her mother is in the kitchen and Beatrice is in the yard with Elizabeth. This is why, when Thomas Milner pulls Nthebolang to him and kisses her on the mouth, she is so ill-prepared.

  Nthebolang steps back. She whispers, ‘You shouldn’t do that.’

  He pulls her to him again with more force. He grabs at her, pushing her mouth onto his, pulling at her clothes, at her breasts. She steps back and speaks softly so the others can’t hear, but she speaks with intention. ‘Stop. You shouldn’t do that.’

  ‘Why? I want to. I’ve wanted to for some time.’

  ‘It’s not right, not Christian.’

  Thomas Milner laughs. ‘I know you go off with someone in the night. I’ve seen you. So don’t pretend being a good Christian is at the front of your mind. You might fool others, but I know you. Why can’t you go off with me some time?’

  He takes her hand and grips it tightly. It’s painful and she cannot get free.

  ‘I can’t do that,’ she says.

  She tears her hand from his with all her force. Once free, she leaves. She goes to the servant’s hut and closes the door behind her. She sits on a chair, trying to catch her breath and steady her mind. She hears knocking; she’s scared Thomas Milner has come after her.

  ‘Nthebolang, will you come and play ball with me?’

  Relief. It’s only Elizabeth.

  ‘In a few minutes, I need to change my dress.’

  She hears Elizabeth run off.

  The kiss and the mauling are one thing, something she suspected was coming; his actions have been leading to it for some time. But the fact that he knows she goes off in the night is what scares her most. He watches what she does. Likely more so after what Motsumi told him about her. She doubts he could have followed her to the koppie, though. She would have seen him. The area past the village is quite flat and bare; it’s easy to spot a person passing. She isn’t sure why she’s so afraid that Thomas Milner knows about her and Motsumi and their meetings, but she knows he’s dangerous and that he knows how to use knowledge as a weapon against those whom he wants to have under his control.

  Nthebolang hasn’t seen Motsumi for two days. She hopes he’s organising things for their departure. She is at Thomas Milner’s desk copying yet another letter for him when her mother bursts in.

  ‘It has started!’ her mother shouts.

  ‘What? What has started, Mme?’

  ‘The fighting. The men have ridden out to the Boer farms. They’re going to collect all the Bakwena women and children who were captured and the stolen cattle and small stock.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘I saw them leaving,’ her mother says.

  ‘And the men – have all of them left?’

  ‘Yes, all of them. Only the very smallest boys and elderly men have remained behind. They’ll be back by nightfall … At least that’s what they think. They expect the raid to be finished by then. I’m not sure what will happen after that. I suppose the Boers will follow them back here, either now or later. Though they say the men will take back only what is theirs, Kgosi Sechele has had enough; he’ll take no more. He’s angry, and I fear he’ll put all of us in danger.’

  It means Motsumi has gone on the raid too. Nthebolang tries not to think of what could happen. He’ll return that night and everything will be as they have decided. Their plans are still in place. Everything will be fine.

  Chapter Thirty

  Nthebolang keeps herself busy all day so as not to think about what’s happening far from Ntsweng. Places that were once pristine bushveld or loving homes and farms, now turned to battlefields. She tries not to picture the scenes playing out.

  She spends the day at the lands. The rain has been sporadic this year but enough for the crops to have responded. There’re some pumpkins, a bit of sorghum. The beans did best, and Nthebolang picks many, taking them back to the mission house.

  She’s behind the servant’s hut shelling the beans from the husks, filling sacks for storage. The summer is nearly over; the long dry season lies ahead. The beans will be important for survival, but she hopes not hers. She hopes she’ll be gone by the time the beans are eaten. She feels sad thinking about her mother, though. She doesn’t like leaving her behind; they only have each other. One day she’ll come back for her mother after she and Motsumi are established up north with the Batawana. Then she will come for her mother and everything will be as it should be.

  Elizabeth has been helping her pick out the beans but Nthebolang’s mother calls her to go and eat. She has a strict timetable of six meals a day until Mma Nthebolang agrees that Elizabeth has gained enough weight. Nthebolang finishes the beans and begins rinsing the clothes she’d been soaking. She’s hanging them on the line when Beatrice comes outside.

  ‘I heard they’ve gone to fight,’ says Beatrice, sitting down on a nearby stone. ‘The Boers won’t like being shot at with Thomas’s guns.’

  Nthebolang continues hanging the clothes. The wind blows them back and forth, their cold wetness giving her a bit of relief from the heat of the afternoon.

  ‘So where are you going?’ asks Beatrice.

  ‘I told you – nowhere.’

  ‘Yes, you told me.’ She draws on the ground with a stick. A horse with a wild mane and a thick, muscular neck. ‘Let’s go for a walk. Thomas is gone. I feel imprisoned in this place. I think I’ll go mad.’

  ‘It’s not a good idea. They might come back at any time. The Boers might follow them here if things go wrong. We might get caught up in all of it. It’s not safe.’

  ‘No, just here in the village.’ She looks up at Nthebolang, her eyes pleading. ‘I feel like a child having to ask someone to take me for a walk. Thomas has made me like this. Please, I’ll go mad if I don’t get out of this place. Please, Nthebolang, my friend, let’s go for a walk.’

  Nthebolang finishes hanging out the clothes. She feels sad for Beatrice. Sad and confused, as she always does when it comes to her. One minute Beatrice is her friend; the next she is someone to avoid, someone to be careful with, and then someone to pity.

  ‘Yes, fine, but just a short walk to the other side of the village and back.’

  They leave the mission house and head towards the main kgotla. The village holds its breath as it waits for the men’s return. One of the stolen girls is the younger sister of Sekgopi, one of the girls who was taught to read and write with Nthebolang. They pass their compound and find Mma Sekgopi sitting outside on the shady ground next to the hut.

  ‘Dumelang, Mme Beatrice, Nthebolang.’

  ‘Mma Sekgopi, have you heard any news?’ Nthebolang asks.

  ‘No, not yet. Mmapitse was here. She threw her bones and told me everything would be fine, that my girl would be coming home today,’ the woman says. Her face is etched with worry.

  ‘God is watching over your daughter, Mma Sekgopi. He will keep her safe until she returns to you,’ says Beatrice.

  Nthebolang is surprised to hear Beatrice speaking so piously. T
hey leave the compound and continue across the village.

  ‘Do you believe in God then?’ says Nthebolang.

  ‘Yes, my god, who is nothing like Thomas’s god, a god full of rules of what people should not do. They should not marry many wives, nor worship their ancestors, nor perform ceremonies for rain. My god is not like that. He’s the god of my people. I hear his voice all the time. He’s a good and kind god, a powerful warrior and magician, the creator of everything in the universe. Tsui-//Goab. He is god. He told me Mma Sekgopi’s daughter would be fine. I was just passing on the information.’

  The main kgotla is empty. Nthebolang turns towards Ntloedibe kgotla, the kgotla where Motsumi lives. She knows she shouldn’t but she wants to see whether he has returned. As they approach his house, Beatrice grabs Nthebolang’s arm.

  ‘No, not here. Let’s turn back now.’

  ‘Why not here?’ asks Nthebolang. ‘I thought you wanted to go through the village.’

  Beatrice’s calm assurance melts away. ‘No, I’m tired. I want to go back. Let’s go back to the mission house.’

  She walks quickly back towards the main kgotla. She stops at the main kraal for the village cattle and holds on to the wooden fence with both hands. When Nthebolang gets to her, she’s a bit calmer, but her face is pale and she’s still gripping the fence to steady herself.

  ‘I could feel death there,’ Beatrice says. ‘I could feel it and I needed to get away. It’s not good. Evil is working there.’

  What is Beatrice talking about?

  Is Motsumi dead? Shot by a Boer’s bullet? Is that what Beatrice felt when she neared the compound?

  Nthebolang grabs Beatrice. ‘Who? Who is dead there? Tell me!’

  ‘I don’t know,’ says Beatrice, calm now. ‘But it’s coming.’

  Nthebolang looks towards Ntloedibe kgotla, along the path that leads to Motsumi’s house, and there is Mmapitse. Nthebolang steps back, pulling Beatrice with her. She tries to hide from the old woman. But it’s too late; Mmapitse has seen her.

  ‘Nthebolang, how are you?’ says Mmapitse. ‘I’m surprised to see you here. You and your white woman like to travel many places together, places where you should not go. Places where you see things that will trouble you for a very long time.’ Mmapitse speaks in Setswana, knowing Beatrice will understand very little.

  Nthebolang just nods. Today Mmapitse looks different. Nthebolang realises she’s walking upright; she has her stick with her but it is not needed. She looks stronger, healthier. Maybe even younger. Certainly not the frail old woman she was the last time Nthebolang saw her.

  ‘They’ll return. The one you seek is fine. He’ll return and find you. Your plans are in the making.’ Mmapitse smiles. ‘All of your plans.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ asks Nthebolang.

  ‘Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered. Yes, he’ll return. That will happen – but not for long. He’ll not stay long.’ Mmapitse laughs. ‘It’s all happening now. Be ready. You’re a grown woman; myths and witches are stories, Nthebolang. Don’t believe them. You’ll soon have a son. He’ll not thrive with a mother who believes in such childish things.’

  Mmapitse says nothing more and goes on her way. Some distance down the path, she looks back at Nthebolang, shakes her head and laughs again.

  ‘What did she say? What did that old woman say?’ asks Beatrice.

  ‘Nothing.’

  Nthebolang will not repeat it. She doesn’t even know what it meant. Why will Motsumi return and then leave again? Was that them leaving together? And what son was she speaking of? She spoke as if Nthebolang were already expecting a son. Could that be? Does she know that she and Beatrice have been in the cave? How would she know that unless she had been there too? Could she have been the old woman? Could Mmapitse climb to that cave, an old woman like her?

  Nthebolang looks again at the retreating old woman. That’s the back of a strong woman, a woman who could have made it up the hills and into the cave. If Mmapitse was in the cave that night, whom was she with?

  Nthebolang leans her head against the post of the kraal. The wood digs into her forehead. She feels dizzy, like she wants to vomit.

  ‘Tell me! I want to know. I can smell it on her,’ says Beatrice.

  ‘What do you mean? Smell what?’ Nthebolang asks.

  ‘Death. She reeks of death.’

  Chapter Thirty-one

  It’s nearly midnight when the horses gallop into Ntsweng. The village echoes with ululations. Nthebolang and her mother get up; they’d gone to bed without undressing, waiting for the return. They rush out of the gate with Thomas Milner, Beatrice, and a sleepy Elizabeth. They hurry to the kgotla to hear what has happened.

  Leading the men is Kgosi Sechele, high up on a horse despite his age. Next to him, still on his own horse, is his son Sebele. A herd of cattle, goats, and sheep follow them, pushed by men at the back. The kidnapped women and children are in a wagon drawn by oxen. It stops and families run to them, pulling them down and hugging them to their chests.

  From his horse, Kgosi Sechele speaks to the people: ‘We have been victorious. We have taught the Boers that there will be no more of their unruly behaviour. This is our country and we will dictate the rules – not them.’

  The people cheer.

  Nthebolang looks for Motsumi in the crowd. She knows he must be there. People are everywhere, blocking her vision, and she can’t find him. Everyone is scrambling to find the ones they love, pushing and rushing here and there.

  ‘Who are you searching for?’

  Nthebolang looks up and there is Seabe. They know each other, but only barely.

  Seabe is a tall, thin young woman. Her skin is rough from a case of smallpox when she was a small child; she might otherwise have been pretty. But then her mouth, set hard as if bitterness is its default, does not help. Despite her unattractiveness, she’s arrogant and petty. Being from a royal family is her saving grace; without it she would have remained unmarried, Nthebolang thinks ungraciously.

  ‘Why do you chase Motsumi?’ she asks. ‘I’m sure you know that his family has paid bogadi. I am his wife. You only appear foolish to others – pathetic, in fact.’

  Nthebolang looks through the crowd hoping that Motsumi will see them and save her from the conversation. He’s nowhere; she’s trapped.

  ‘I don’t chase Motsumi. We’re friends,’ Nthebolang says. ‘Besides, I heard the marriage is off.’

  ‘Someone is telling you lies.’ Seabe cannot hide her fury. She hisses at Nthebolang. ‘I suggest you tread carefully. I’ll not allow a foreigner – a nobody, a destitute, a witch – to come here and disturb what has been decided. You must watch your step. Your missionary god cannot protect you against our traditions.’

  Seabe walks away. Nthebolang is shaken and wants to leave, to go home, but first she needs to know that Motsumi is fine. She moves through the crowd. People are hugging and ululating, happy the trouble is over.

  Nthebolang hears snippets of what happened. They waited until nightfall to attack. They went from farm to farm collecting what was theirs. They met only limited resistance. There were some gun fights, but this time the Bakwena were well-armed – the Boers did not expect that. Two of the men were shot, injured only, but they suspect the Boers have more wounds on their side, although they didn’t wait to see. They took nothing more than what was theirs – that was what they intended. They showed the Boers, though, that taking from the Bakwena would no longer be an option. Everyone believes this is the end of it. Nthebolang feels only a qualified happiness; she knows that revenge is a long game. She doubts the war is over.

  She spots Motsumi near the returned livestock. People are checking brands and ear marks to identify which animals are theirs. Motsumi sees her and leaves the group of men.

  ‘We were successful,’ he says. He’s smiling and happy, as if fighting and killing are a game without consequences.

  ‘Yes. I just wanted to make sure that everything’s fine.’

&nbs
p; ‘Yes, everything is fine.’

  ‘And our plans?’ Nthebolang looks around to see if anyone is listening.

  ‘Yes, we’ll talk. Meet me tomorrow night. We need to talk then.’ Motsumi looks around; someone is calling his name. He’s distracted, and Nthebolang can see he wants to leave her. ‘I need to go.’

  Nthebolang puts her hand on his arm. ‘Seabe said—’

  Motsumi turns back with urgency, suddenly interested in what she has to say. ‘What? Seabe spoke to you? What did she say?’

  ‘She said everything was on, that your marriage is on. How can that be if our plans are still in place?’

  Motsumi looks around. ‘I can’t speak now. I need to go. Meet me tomorrow night.’

  Nthebolang watches him join the other men near the kraal where the returned animals have been placed. He bends to check the ear of a goat and then speaks with the man who called him. He doesn’t look back at her. She’s already gone from his mind.

  How stupid she feels. How ashamed. She’s a foolish person easily swayed by lies. She’s nothing of what she thought she was, of who she pretended to be. Motsumi got what he wanted from her and now she’s no longer required. It’s clear to her now. He has tricked her, used her. There are no plans. The marriage is still on; he didn’t deny it. He was only telling her fairy stories to get his way.