But Deliver Us from Evil

by Lauri Kubuitsile

  She heads back towards the mission station wishing only to be away from it all. She doesn’t care about fights over land and animals. Or about guns brought by missionaries, or haughty women trying to put her in her place. She hates all of it. She hates all of them – most of all she hates this horrible village. She wants to be gone from it.

  ‘Wait!’ Beatrice is running after her. Nthebolang stops to let her catch up. ‘Where are you going? You look upset.’

  ‘Home.’

  ‘I saw you with that young man again. Is he the plan you spoke of? Are you leaving with him? I’ve told you he is dangerous.’

  Nthebolang continues walking. She doesn’t want to speak about any of it.

  ‘Don’t. Don’t keep me apart from you,’ says Beatrice. ‘We’re friends. I need you. And I think you need me.’

  ‘I doubt it. You seem to be able to take care of yourself. In any case, you have a knife if needs be.’

  ‘Why are you being so cruel?’

  ‘I’m not being cruel; I’m being honest. It seems to be the time for honesty.’ She walks ahead of Beatrice. ‘I just want to go home.’

  Beatrice follows behind her. Nthebolang turns to her angrily. ‘Where is your daughter? Don’t you want to go and find her in that crowd? She’s just a child, you know. You’re her mother – you’re meant to take care of her.’

  ‘She’s with Mary. She’s better off with her. I’m no mother of any real sort.’ Beatrice speaks with an edge of sadness that surprises Nthebolang. It seems after all that Beatrice does care about the effect of her selfishness on her daughter; that’s something at least.

  ‘I know you go to him, even though I’ve warned you,’ says Beatrice. ‘But I know too he’s not going to take you away from here. I warned you about him, but you didn’t listen and now your heart will be broken. ‘

  Nthebolang stops. ‘What do you know? A white woman locked up in the mission. What can you know about anything?’

  ‘You’re going with me. You’ll go with me to my people. We’ll live there together, you and me, your mother and Elizabeth, and … your baby. We’ll be with my Kamogelo. It’s a beautiful place. We’ll roam the hills with our animals, and fish in the sea. I remember every bit of it, no matter how much they told me to forget all about it. We’ll be happy there.’

  ‘What do you mean, my baby? I have no baby. You’re as mad as Thomas says you are!’

  ‘The healer, that old woman, she showed me when she spoke to you. I saw him too.’

  Nthebolang is wild with emotion. She lashes out in all directions. She’s so very tired of all of it. ‘She’s a liar! There’ll be no baby. There will be nothing – it’s over, all over!’

  Nthebolang begins to cry. It’s all too much. She suspected something was wrong, that she might be pregnant, and now it appears it’s true. Motsumi is gone, the truth of the situation clear to her, and now she’s pregnant with his child. In the end he made her what he wanted: nothing more than a concubine.

  Beatrice watches her but makes no attempts at comfort. Nthebolang’s emotions settle and she wipes the tears from her face.

  ‘In any case, Mmapitse is no healer,’ Nthebolang says. ‘She’s a witch. She knows nothing, but I know a lot about her. She was in the cave that night. Do you know that as well?’

  ‘Now we know one, who were the others?’ asks Beatrice.

  Nthebolang walks off again without answering; she has no answers to offer. She doesn’t know who else was in the cave.

  Suddenly there’s the sound of screaming back at the kgotla. She looks towards the crowd still gathered there. Something has happening. People are running, rushing together at one side. Cries can be heard. A woman wails. Nthebolang and Beatrice hurry back to see what the commotion is about.

  The gathering has opened up to make space for the woman in the middle. Nthebolang sees Motsumi and his mother standing to one side. In the middle is Motsumi’s father, his arm around his first wife, the woman the crowd has made space for. His arm keeps her from falling to the ground. She slumps against him. The joy that had filled people just moments before has vanished.

  Nthebolang finds her mother standing with Elizabeth held tightly against her skirt. ‘What’s wrong? What has happened?’ she asks her.

  ‘They say the boy is dead.’

  ‘The boy?’

  ‘The kgosana’s son, RraMotsumi’s son Baatweng is dead. They found him dead in the house.’

  ‘Is it from his wound, from when he was shot?’ asks Nthebolang.

  ‘No – he was bewitched, through his food, they say. They found medicine at the doorstep, buried. They now think it’s likely the gunshot was witchcraft too. Maybe not even from the Boers’ guns.’

  Nthebolang looks across the kgotla to Motsumi. His face is drawn. Seabe stands behind him and spots Nthebolang looking their way. She stares directly at Nthebolang, and then she smiles.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  A tense calm spreads across the village. There are warnings that the Boers are preparing to retaliate but nothing happens. Everyone waits, but the imminent attack is not what people fear most. In the dark corners of the houses, at nightfall, away from others, people are more fearful of the threat they now know lives among them. Evil that cannot be identified as easily as the Boer, evil that could be anywhere. Who’s doing it? Someone they know? Someone they love? A husband? A sister? A father? A wife? If they had a choice, they would prefer the direct attack from the Boers than waiting to see who will die next from this home-based danger.

  Nthebolang knows some, maybe most in the village, are looking for the smallest evidence that she and her mother are somehow behind Baatweng’s death.

  Against all sound thinking, Nthebolang decides to go to the koppie as they’ve planned, to meet Motsumi, to hear what he has to tell her. She wants to speak to him about everything, to tell him, finally, that she will not accept what he is now offering her: to be his concubine and for her child to be his bastard.

  In the meanwhile, she stays at the mission house. She keeps to herself. Her mother goes to the lands to bring in the last of the harvest. Nthebolang is left behind to keep the mission house running with Beatrice. She prepares the food for lunch.

  Elizabeth washes the bean leaves as Nthebolang pounds the sorghum. ‘Where’s your mother?’ Nthebolang asks her.

  ‘She left in the morning. She said she had an errand.’

  Elizabeth washes each leaf carefully in the bucket of water, making sure no sand stays stuck in the crevices. In every task, she is serious and committed, so unlike the young child that she is.

  Nthebolang wonders where Beatrice has gone. Thomas Milner will not be happy if he finds out. Nthebolang will have to make up a story to protect her. She sits down. She’s so tired. It has been unusually hot for May and, though the rain had seemed enough, the hot sun has pulled it all up to the sky. The wind blows hot and dry; dust fills the air in dark clouds. She feels weary. Her constant worries about her future, and what is going on in Ntsweng, exhaust her.

  ‘So if God is good and guides us to do good when we follow His words, and protects us, why are these Boer people killing us?’ Elizabeth looks at Nthebolang, her eyes earnest.

  ‘It’s true, God will protect us if we follow his ways, if we pray and are good. But he also gives us free will. Sometimes it’s the free will that gets us into problems. Everything is fine now, Elizabeth. You shouldn’t worry. No one will harm you. Let the adults carry these worries.’

  Elizabeth goes back to cleaning the leaves. Nthebolang stands up, suddenly feeling dizzy. Her stomach is unwell too. ‘Wait here, I’ll be back.’

  She goes to the latrine at the back of the compound and vomits. She feels so ill; she wishes she could lie down, but she mustn’t. She has lunch to finish. She’ll get through lunch and then lie down for a nap with Elizabeth.

  When she’s back at the cooking hut, she finds that Thomas Milner has returned.

  ‘Where’s Beatrice?’ he asks.

  ‘She went t
o get milk from that woman in the village. I wanted it for lunch but I felt unwell. She said she would do it.’

  ‘And what’s wrong?’ he asks.

  ‘Only stomach problems, something I ate perhaps.’

  ‘They buried that boy this morning. I was surprised you didn’t come. I thought his brother was a friend of yours. Now I see you were ill, so that explains it.’

  Nthebolang knows Baatweng was to be buried that morning. She would not have gone even if she had felt well. She doesn’t want to see Motsumi or Seabe, and especially not to see them together as such family ceremonies would likely dictate.

  Also, she feared what she might discover. Was Motsumi keeping away because in the end he submitted to his mother’s wishes? Why had Seabe smiled at her like that? What did it mean? Nthebolang doesn’t want to know the answers to any of those questions really, unless they are the answers she hopes for. She’s beginning to hate knowledge, knowing things that only bring you even more burdens.

  She puts the bean leaves in the smaller pot at the fire and stirs them in the fat she’s melted. She concentrates on the cooking to still her busy mind.

  ‘I have a letter I need written out. Can you do it for me after lunch? It’s quite urgent,’ Thomas Milner says.

  ‘Yes, of course, Reverend Milner.’

  The three eat in near silence at the table in the mission house. No mention is made of the still-absent Beatrice. Thomas speaks about the funeral. He says he’s happy to see so many praying with him, singing the Christian hymns. He’s sure the tide is turning, that soon all of the Bakwena in Ntsweng will leave their heathen ways and become Christians. It will be better for everyone when they do. All this upsetting talk of witchcraft will disappear. Even Kgosi Sechele spoke of it, which is very much out of character for him, Thomas tells her.

  After putting Elizabeth to bed for a nap, Nthebolang goes back to the main room to help Thomas with the letter. Beatrice has not returned yet. Nthebolang wonders where she could have gone off on her own for so long. Thomas stands at the window waiting while Nthebolang rewrites the letter. She will leave as soon as she’s done; she doesn’t want a repeat of the last time she and Thomas were alone.

  It’s a confidential letter to the general superintendent in Bethelsdorp. Thomas Milner wants them to know about the recent battle with the Boer farmers in the area.

  ‘You will refer to my previous letter,’ he writes. ‘The Afrikaner farmers of the area do not respect the Bakwena or their Christian leader, Kgosi Sechele. They took not only livestock but women and children to work their fields. How can we condone such sinful practices? It is against God’s will. It is slavery, and, from the recent conference in London, you are aware that the Church has taken a stand against slavery in all forms in all countries where we have missions.

  ‘As I am the representative of the Church in the Bakwena Kingdom, I have assisted King Sechele in every manner to rectify the injustice against his people. As such, he has come to rely on me unquestioningly and this has helped to cement his commitment to God, Christianity, and the Church. The congregation grows as a result. Success in this land is assured.

  ‘Unfortunately, as the Afrikaner farmers could not see reason, King Sechele collected back what was stolen. There was bloodshed. This could not be avoided, but he believes it is over now. I beg of you to speak to all you know in the Cape government so that they see their way to control the farmers encroaching onto land that is not theirs in the first place. If it is your will, I can travel to the Cape and speak on behalf of the Bakwena. I am sure the king will trust me to speak the truth for him. He might even be willing to travel with me though he is very aged.

  ‘In the meanwhile, as a servant of God, I will continue my task of saving souls and spreading the word of Our Lord.’

  Nthebolang respects the fact that Thomas Milner seems to want to help the Bakwena. Everything Thomas Milner does pushes him further ahead, ahead of everyone else. Any residual good deed is accidental to the cause of his progression, but still good is done.

  Nthebolang finishes the letter and lays it carefully to dry when she hears a noise outside. It has to be Beatrice because Thomas Milner leaves the house as soon as he hears it. Nthebolang knows what’s coming. She goes to Elizabeth and carefully carries her out to the servant’s hut. Luckily the child does not wake up. Nthebolang lies down with her on the mat on the floor. She puts her hands over Elizabeth’s ears so she cannot hear the noise coming from the house. The girl does not need anything more that might add to the weight on her tiny shoulders.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Beatrice wakes early. She leaves from the back of the mission compound so as not to be seen by anyone in the village. She’s heard that the Boers who were attacked live to the south of Ntsweng, and she heads in that direction.

  She’s surprised that she finds no one as she passes masimo and the cattleposts. Everyone has cleared out, it seems, since the fighting began. She walks freely, listening to the sounds of the bush, the clear whistle of the hornbill, the questioning song of the grey lourie, the gurgling chatter of the weaver birds. She stops to drink from a clear stream and fills the leather bag she’s brought with her. She doesn’t know for sure how far she will have to walk.

  She finds a wider, more defined path, and follows that since it still takes her southwards. After two hours, an ox wagon comes around the bend she has just walked past. The driver stops and speaks to her in Setswana. Her Setswana is not good but she explains that she’s looking for the Boer farms. He nods and she climbs on the back.

  It’s a pleasant ride, and she thinks she even falls asleep for a while, but then she feels the wagon stop and she opens her eyes.

  ‘The Boers,’ the man says, and he points to a crudely built house and a few outbuildings in the distance.

  Beatrice thanks him and climbs down.

  She walks down the path to the buildings. They are hastily put-together structures of mud and cow dung. A kraal to the side shows a healthy herd of Afrikaner cattle and Damara sheep. As she gets closer, a dog barks and a man comes out of the house with a shotgun, his wife and three children of various ages behind him.

  Beatrice raises her hands above her head and says in Afrikaans, ‘I am not an enemy. I have no weapon.’ She hopes there will be no search because she has Maangees as always.

  ‘What do you want?’ the man asks.

  ‘Only to speak to you.’

  Cautiously the man and his wife take her into the house. They give her strong coffee and a hard, tasteless cake. Beatrice is thankful, since she’s very hungry and still has a long walk back to Ntsweng.

  ‘I am here because my conscience forces me. I feel that what is happening is wrong,’ she begins.

  The couple, Mr and Mrs Booysen, listen carefully.

  ‘My husband is a missionary in Ntsweng with the natives there. I know to talk against my husband is a sin, but what he is doing is wrong. I cannot in good conscience keep silent.’

  ‘What is it, Mrs Milner?’

  ‘My husband is from Britain; he is not from here like us. He doesn’t understand the way things work here, the way we must do things so we can survive,’ Beatrice says. ‘The way in which the natives must be controlled for our own survival.’

  ‘What has your husband done?’ Mrs Booysen asks. She takes Beatrice’s shaking hand. ‘It will be fine, just tell us. I know how it is to be alone as a woman. We can help you.’

  Beatrice cries a bit and dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘I think you understand well. My husband is a hard man, a brutal man. If he knew I was here … well, I don’t want to think about that.’ Beatrice lets the shawl she’s wrapped around her drop slightly to reveal the green bruise just above her elbow from Thomas’s last fury. The couple’s eyes fall to it. Beatrice quickly pulls the shawl back into place as if embarrassed.

  ‘Don’t worry. We’ll not tell anyone,’ Mr Booysen assures Beatrice. ‘But tell us, what is this thing that’s troubling you so?’

  ‘My husb
and has bought guns for the natives. The very guns that they used to attack our people,’ says Beatrice.

  ‘Is he aware a man died in those raids?’ asks Mr Booysen. ‘These sorts of missionaries should find no place in our land. They need to be chased back to where they came from!’

  Beatrice shakes her head and looks down at the floor.

  ‘Don’t shout at her,’ says Mrs Booysen. ‘She has tried her best to advise him. She said he’s a stubborn, hard man. What do you want her to do? She has come here – that’s enough. She’s risked a lot to come here and tell us this.’

  Mr Booysen calms down after his wife’s words. ‘Of course, yes. You did right. I’ll tell the others and we’ll see what to do. Be assured we’ll make sure you and your daughter stay safe.’

  Beatrice doesn’t ask for details. She doesn’t want any.

  She stands up. ‘I must get back; it’s a long walk.’

  ‘No, I’ll take you most of the way,’ says Mr Booysen. ‘Not too close, though. You don’t want to let anyone see you with me.’

  Beatrice lies at the back of the wagon covered in a blanket. He drops her near the hills to the south. It’s already dark. She’ll be in for a beating from Thomas Milner, but it’s one she’ll be happy to have earned.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Nthebolang helps Beatrice change her torn and dirty dress. She attends to her bruises and wounds. Thomas Milner beat her with a leather strap this time. In places it has slashed through her dress and cut across her skin, leaving raised red welts on her back; in some places the welts are bleeding. Nthebolang applies a poultice made of leaves and bark that will keep the open wounds clean until they scab over. There’s little to be done for the swollen eye; it will go blue, then purple, then green before it comes right again.

  Beatrice looks in the mirror while poking at her eye.

  ‘Leave him. I’ll not trouble myself with him. Everything will be fine.’ She speaks softly, as if reminding herself to be calm against Thomas’s brutality.