“I am sorry. I am embarrassed. I hope it won’t ruin—”
“Ag man! Forget it. That is over and done with.”
“Thanks, Johan. I am truly sorry.”
Johan looked at Chad again; fiery eyes contrasted a friendly turn of the lips. In a polite and friendly voice, he said, “Just make sure you stay away from daughter, and we will be fine.”
Chad cringed at Johan’s response. The olive branch was ground into powder and tossed into his face. He felt Johan spoke not as a concerned father protecting his cherished daughter, but as an abusive man hell-bent on controlling his family, a man convinced that it was his sacred duty to hold the pretend family together. Chad’s anger began to rise. He bit his upper lip, gave Johan a slight nod of acknowledgement, and headed to the rear of the vehicle. He looked at Sarah; she quickly looked down when their eyes met. Chad plopped down next to Peter who stared out of the window. Chad watched his feet shake with the vibration of the kombi; he felt alone, and he felt terrified about what could happen next.
***
The news greeted Peter and Chad as soon as they arrived home from their camping adventure with the Van den Bergs. Simon held a letter in his hand; he waved it slowly. “You have been summoned to Pretoria on Friday. We must assume they’ll demand you leave on Friday. It doesn’t look good.” He handed them the letter.
Peter read the letter as Chad looked over his shoulder:
... Concerning the matter of applications for extension of holiday permits for continued stay in South Africa. You are required to present yourselves at the Departement van die Binnelandse Sake at eight a.m. the twenty-first of January 1977 ... It is recommended you bring all belongings and arrange with your airline for flights out of the country…
It was signed by the Sekretaresse van die Binnelandse Sake (Secretary for the Interior).
Their initial holiday permits had expired on the first week in December. Beginning in October, they had applied for an extension of their temporary holiday permits twice and were denied both times. In November, they applied for work permits. Three times they were summoned to Pretoria to fill out more paperwork, and each time they were told, “The matter is being reconsidered. We will let you know. You must wait for another summons.”
The summons they held in their hands was the one they had been dreading. They would now, most certainly discover their fate.
On Friday, they would go to Pretoria and plead their case once again. They hoped they would have enough luck to be assigned to an official who might show them some sympathy. They knew the odds of this bordered near zero, but both were determined to hold on to hope.
After they had read the letter, Simon said, “Get things in order. We’ll just have to see what we can do. We’ll have to be prepared for Plan B – go to Rhodesia for a month and hope you can return.”
Neither was ready to leave: South Africa had much more in store for them. South Africa remained too dear, too enticing, and too important. This country, this land, held too much promise to leave now. They prayed South Africa would not desert them.
CHAPTER 20
Out with a Thud
After dinner, Simon asked about their holiday. They recounted all their adventures – all except the incident of Chad assaulting Johan on their last evening at Kruger National Park. Both knew Simon had no sympathy for such behavior. He would see it as a betrayal of his trust in them, a betrayal of the church and the people they had come to assist. Perhaps on Friday, they would tell him, or perhaps they would never tell him at all. They had not decided.
Chad rode Simon’s bike to Sarah’s home on Monday morning. When he got there, the kombi was gone. Thank God. Johan’s back at work, so it’s safe. He found Sarah sunbathing in the back garden, wearing skimpy shorts and a red bathing suit top. He stood staring at her before she noticed him. Her simple, unpretentious beauty stirred his soul. How can anyone be so beautiful and not even flaunt it, not even now it? She is so unlike those cheerleader types I’ve spent my life pursuing and using. They’re so pretentious in their assumptions of being irresistible and so annoying with their endless demands for affirmation of how beautiful they are. Sarah has no need for such acknowledgement. She does not know how beautiful she is, and she does not care. She’s amazing. Chad shook his thoughts away. “Howzit?” Chad said, trying to hide his fear that she would tell him to get lost.
“Chad? What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”
He forced feigned confidence. “We’ve got to talk. That’s why. We need to talk.”
She looked away. “We can’t, okay?”
“Don’t be so obstinate.”
Still avoiding his eyes, she declared, “You’d better leave.”
Chad took her shoulders and turned them square with his. “I love you. God, I love you. I smaak you stukkend.”
A tear made its way down the base of her nose, and she slowly and deliberately wiped it away. She whispered, “Maybe you do, but it doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters! It’s the only thing that matters. You and me, that’s the only thing that matters.” Chad leaned over and gently kissed her lips, then put his forehead against hers. “Tell me you don’t love me.”
“You’re a fool, Chad. You are such a mompie.”
“I don’t care. Tell me you don’t love me.”
Sarah pulled back and looked away. “What if I don’t?”
“Tell me you don’t.”
“My dad is going to kill you.”
Chad leaned back and shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. He’s gonna be mad for a while, but he won’t kill me. He’ll get over it, even if it takes weeks, months, or years. He will get over it.”
“You don’t know my father.”
“Sarah, this is about us, not your dad. It’s about you and me. Look at me.”
She refused.
Chad persisted. “I love you ... and I know you love me.”
“What if I tell you I don’t love you enough?”
“I wouldn’t believe you.”
“Well, I’m sorry, I am. I love you. God, I love you, but not enough to sacrifice my family.”
“So you’d go with your Boer bodybuilder wannabe to keep your family happy? To keep your alcoholic dad happy? You deserve better than either one of them. I’m sorry, Sarah, but they’re just abusers. You—”
She looked at Chad with eyes bulging. “Ag man! Shut up. Hou jou bek! Go to hell, Chad!” She beat his chest several times with an open right hand. “Don’t! Do not talk about my dad like that. Don’t you dare! You don’t know anything. You don’t know anything about my father. Voertsek!”
“I know what he does to you, to your mom, your sister.”
“Voertsek man! Go! Just go, Chad!”
“Sarah, I love you like I’ve never loved anyone. You deserve better. I know you love your dad. I know you do. But you can’t change him by being his little girl, his princess, for the rest of your life.”
“Please go.” Sarah bit her lower lip. Her countenance softened. Then her strong, confident eyes welled with tears which she seemed determined to keep hidden. “Please leave.”
Chad stepped back and turned away from her. “We go to Pretoria on Friday. We’ll probably have to leave. If we do, it’ll give you some time ... but I promise I’ll come back for you. I know you love me. flipping hell, I love you enough for both of us.”
“Just go, Chad.”
***
A quiet knock at the door disturbed Peter’s mindless moment as he sat staring at the stripes of the zebra hide on the floor. Cindy greeted him with an excited, girlish grin. She blurted her sentences out with no pause for response. “I heard you got back early. I thought you would call. I couldn’t wait to see you. I thought you might write. God, I’m glad to see you.” She flung her arms around him and held him as tightly as she dared.
Her touch always stirred confused emotions – he needed to push her away. He wanted her embrace to linger forever. Whenever they touc
hed, waves of guilt mingled with waves of excitement.
They sat on the ground in the back garden watching the sunset. Peter described the rollercoaster ride they had experienced over the past twelve days. He described in detail the cruel and tragic climax that had destroyed the dreams of two young lovers. Then Peter told her about the summons to Pretoria with the certain assumption it would lead to deportation.
At that news, Cindy nestled up to Peter, putting her cheek next to his. When Peter stiffened, Cindy asked him, “Well, what about us? What are we going to do?”
Peter pulled back from her. “I … I don’t know. I really don’t know. We’ll go to Rhodesia and see if we can get back in a month or so. ”
“You think you will be able to come back?”
Peter showed little emotion in his response. “Can’t be sure. Maybe. I hope so, but maybe not.”
Cindy’s eyes brightened. “Then I want to go to America. I’ll come and see you as soon as I can.”
“That’d be silly, Cindy. It’s a long way, and it costs a lot of money. It’s a crazy idea, and you really shouldn’t bother.”
“Peter, what are you saying?”
Peter shook his head. “It just seems too unrealistic.” He realized that this was his moment to be clear, to be firm. Tell her now that our friendship simply does not call for that kind of sacrifice, that kind of commitment. Tell her now!
He was about to speak when Cindy said with her trademark childlike innocence, “You coming here was unrealistic, but you came. If you can do it, so can I.” She reached out and put her hand on the back of his head, pulled his head down, and pressed their foreheads together.
“I suppose so. But … but I hope I can come back. I want to come back. I want to do more with Roger and Dumisani. I’ll be back.”
Cindy flung her arms around him and squeezed him as tightly as her small frame would allow. “I’ll never let you go, Peter. I will never let go of you.”
Peter closed his eyes and accepted her naïve, sweet, healing love. He wished to God that he had love to give her in return. He wished to God that he felt something more for her. He had tried to will himself to love her for so many weeks, but that love never came. He hated that he could not love her as she deserved, and worse, he hated that she assumed he did. He had stolen her love, and for that he felt tremendous shame – but he wanted, he needed this love.
***
On Thursday, they occupied themselves with mundane activities: washing clothes, writing letters, packing bags, cleaning just for the sake of staying occupied – all of this done in silence.
Little had been said between Peter and Chad since returning from holiday. One or the other would offer a polite but superficial comment at times, just to prove they were the bigger person.
Peter sat in the kitchen talking and laughing with Themba as she recounted the latest innocent antics of her children. Peter would miss those privileged talks that allowed him a glimpse into the heart and world of this beautiful African’s life. He took her hand and looked into her eyes. “Thank you for all you’ve done for us, Themba, and for all you’ve given me. Yu, u nobuntu.”
Embarrassed, she looked down at the floor but then back up again with a smile. She gave a quick but accepting embrace. “Dankie, Peter.”
***
Before he could knock, Chad opened the front door and greeted the visitor with an exaggerated show of pleasure. “Well, well. Hoe gaan dit, bru?”
Clearly, Philip saw no need for being civil or cordial. “I know about your kak at Kruger, man! You have no business with Sarah. You have no business attacking her father.”
“I don’t believe any of that is your concern,” Chad spoke curtly. Stress had taken its toll, and he would enjoy a good fight just to relieve his pent-up anger and tension.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but there’ll be no more warnings!” Saliva spewed from Philip’s mouth as if he were a dog gone mad.
“Bloody hell! You are living in the eighteenth century, bru. Women make their own decisions. We don’t duel for their affection anymore. Bloody hell! You can’t force Sarah to love you, and neither can I. So don’t make this about me. Anyway, like I said, none of it is your business. I suggest you leave now.”
Philip lurched toward Chad. “You’re wrong! This is about me and you. Make no mistake, bru.”
Chad looked up and down at Philip. He chuckled and said, “God! I don’t believe you. You are such a plank, a Boer. You are a Neanderthal Boer.”
Philip knocked a chair over, threw his chest out, and raised clenched fists, which caused Chad to shake his head and laugh. Philip threw another chair out of his way screaming, “To hell with you, Yank!”
Responding to the commotion, Peter came in with Themba following close behind.
Philip looked at Peter, then Themba. With hate-filled scorn, he barked out, “There’s your Kaffir-loving pussy come to save you!”
With no time for Philip to turn his head back toward Chad, Peter took two steps forward and plowed his right fist into Philip’s jaw. While still stunned, Peter landed a second blow with his left hand, throwing the stocky Afrikaner slightly off balance. When the third punch hit its mark, a thud on the floor shook the windows. Peter shouted, “Don’t you ever say that word in front of a Black person or in front of me! Get your fat ass out of this house! Crawl back into your fantasy world where you can pretend to be somebody!” He then buried his left leg deep into Philip’s lower gut.
Philip slowly got up and staggered out the door yelling, “Gaan naai 'n koei!”
Peter and Chad looked at each other and smiled. They looked at Themba, her mouth frozen wide open. Chad asked, “What does that mean?”
Themba looked at the floor and quietly said, “I believe it is rather rude. I’d rather not say, but it involves a cow.”
The three burst into laughter.
That evening, Peter and Chad did not mention to Simon what had happened in the afternoon. To tell that story would mean revealing the debacle of their last night at Kruger. They ate dinner, finished packing, had tea, and went to bed wondering what fate would bring the following morning.
***
A perfect summer day accompanied them on their journey to the beautiful city of Pretoria on Friday. They took little notice of the weather or the city. After two hours of waiting in lines and filling out papers, they were led to that prestigious office to meet the judge who would pronounce his decision: “You are to leave South Africa and never return!”
They thought it impossible, but Simon somehow had the persona non grata rescinded. With a large grin, he recounted how he was able to locate a Mr. Andrew Peinkorsky who knew his father at university. He assured the well-placed bureaucrat that he was responsible for his American friends and that their stay had been simple and banal. True, they had violated their holiday permits, but Simon assured Mr. Peinkorsky that they had made every effort to get extensions and had tried to obtain work permits for their ‘volunteer’ work at the church. Simon summed up his defense to the more sympathetic official. “Certainly this harsh dictate of persona non grata is unnecessary.”
Mr. Peinkorsky took the stamped papers and issued others that would not flag Peter and Chad as renegades too dangerous to reenter their beloved country. Their dreams, their destiny had not been lost – at least not yet.
***
As they drove to the airport, Simon said, “Now Richard is a good man. Married now, with a son … no, two. Yes, he has two sons, I believe. He is still a truck driver, I’m fairly sure. He was always the wild one in my family – free spirited, coarse, and bit of a drinker. They moved a year or two ago, and I haven’t heard from him in a while. I only know they’re in West Nicolson, north of Bulawayo. I am sure you can find his number once you’re there. It shouldn’t be a problem for him to pick you up, and stay with him a while. It should be just fine.”
Peter worried about all the ‘shoulds’ in the plan, but he had no choice other than trusting Simon.
After all, it was all his idea.
***
They boarded the first flight to Bulawayo, Rhodesia. They located Simon’s brother Richard rather easily, just as Simon had promised. He even sounded enthusiastic about meeting his brother’s American friends.
That is how a new chapter began. Even in their wildest imagination, they could not have conjured up the events that lay before them – events that would alter their lives and their hearts forever.
PART III
January 21 - March 3, 1977
CHAPTER 21
Bush War
Heat waves billowing off the tarmac greeted Chad and Peter as they disembarked at the Bulawayo Airport. They phoned Simon’s brother and received instructions to take the bus to the train station in Bulawayo. They were to wait in a car park in front of the hospital near the station.
They boarded the local bus and squeezed into minute gaps in the already-packed aisle. Peter was sure the stench of sweaty bodies would cause him to pass out. As more individuals crammed into the bus, he feared there would not be enough air to share. He closed his eyes and endured the twenty-minute ride, careful to take in only short, shallow breaths so as not to inhale the wretched aroma.
The streets around the train station bustled more with people than cars. Only a few white faces appeared among the thousand and one Black faces, all walking determinedly to countless destinations. Occasionally, a car would honk its horn and herd the people off the road onto dusty footpaths. The dust ignited an occasional irritating sneeze from Peter that always caused Chad to jump and declare, “Don’t do that!” or “Cover your mouth, man!”
Peter and Chad surveyed the area for some shade but found none. Only a few trees were dotted about and even they were straggly, offering little relief from the African sun. They settled on a bench near a small car park in front of the hospital; both kept looking around, as if a shady area would appear suddenly out of nowhere.
After twenty minutes of waiting, Peter commented to Chad, “Have you noticed the Blacks here? They dress better … than the Africans in South Africa. They even walk different. It’s like they’re more confident or something. Did you notice that?”
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