Parallel Lives

by Narelle Minton

  Chapter 47

  Determined to restore their loving relationship, Delyth approached Gwyn in their room one evening. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about going back to chapel. I’ve checked and there’s a service at quarter to ten on Sunday at the Mayfield Methodist Church. Will you come with me?”

  Gwyn looked at her askance. Then he nodded. “All right, if that’s what you want.”

  That Sunday, they sat quietly at a pew near the back of the church. Delyth looked around the small weatherboard building at the conservatively dressed congregation. Many of the women wore discrete little hats over their permed hair. They were all strangers to her and she was uncertain what to expect. The Minister entered from a side door and took his place in front of the congregation, leading them in a hymn. Delyth and Gwyn, reading from hymn books provided, joined in. The atmosphere in the church changed as voices rose in praise to the Lord. When Gwyn reached across and took her hand, she knew they were together in God’s divine love.

  The sermon focused on Christ forgiving the sins of believers. Delyth thought about her own shortcomings and said a silent prayer for all the times she’d put herself above Gwyn in her own mind. How demoralised I must have made him feel. “Forgive me, Lord,” she mumbled. Gwyn smiled at her and stroked her hand. Yes, together in God’s love, we can be happy. I have to humble myself, not resent it if I don’t get my own way. Only with the help of the Holy Spirit can I change.

  Following the service, they chatted to people over tea and cake. Everyone was friendly and welcoming. Here we can find the support we need to follow our spiritual destiny.

  One morning, Delyth sat on her bed idly flicking through the Newcastle Morning Herald’ left by Gwyn. In the employment classifieds, she noticed a job for typists. That has to be better than sitting round in this hole all day doing nothing. She carefully completed an application in neat handwriting and posted it off.

  A few days later the offer of an interview arrived in the post. She rushed to Anneke and Daniela with the news. “Now I’ve just got to persuade Gwyn to let me attend the interview. He’s never wanted me to work, except during the war of course.”

  Anneke closed her eyes for a moment. Delyth recognised the signs of her connecting with her guides. “It will all go well. I can see you working with other women in an office. Don’t worry.”

  But Delyth did worry, day and night. She didn’t want another argument with Gwyn but she was determined to have her way on this. Finally, the evening before the scheduled interview, she knew she had to say something. “Gwyn, I’d really like to return to work.”

  “I don’t like the idea of my wife having to go out to work. It’s my role to provide.”

  “It’s different here. A lot of women work until they have a family. It’s the best way to get a deposit for a home.”

  “You’ve got a point there, and it will keep you away from those witches.”

  That was easier than I expected. It had certainly not been worth all the angst she’d been giving herself. Delyth caught the bus into Newcastle for her interview and commenced work in the typing pool the following Monday. It won’t be long ’til I’m back running an office. I’m becoming my own person again, despite what Gwyn thinks. Oh no! She’d slipped back into her old habit of promoting herself at Gwyn’s expense. God, forgive me.

  You are forgiven. Remember, the purpose of your work is not to create your own success but to provide an opportunity to reach out to others with love. You need to pray each morning before you arise. Then you will experience the divine energy enter your body. That is the way to achieve your purpose.

  The next morning Delyth followed the advice. As she breathed deeply and prayed, she felt tingling start in her fingertips and toes and flow throughout her body. Then she felt waves of energy. She got out of bed. I wonder what I should wear today.

  Dress smartly. You need to impress with your appearance in order to be listened to by others. Then you can share your love. Worship God with your body. A scruffy appearance leads to a lazy mind and lack-lustre existence.

  Delyth made the effort to ensure she was well-groomed, taking special care with her make-up. She felt good.

  It’s like the trees in the forest. You notice the ones that reach out with profuse foliage, fully expressing the life-force within them. You must always make the most of your God-given gifts, loving yourself as you love others.

  Delyth arrived at work, no longer worried about what to say or what others might think. She belonged to God and was not alone. She reached out with a smile and friendly word to her work-mates, feeling pleasure in their company. The actual typing work was insignificant in comparison, though, as always, she did her best. Instead of keeping to herself in her usual way, she spontaneously did little things for others, whether it was making a cup of tea or lending a pencil. Her openness and kindness toward others made her popular in a way she’d only dreamt of.

  In a similar way, on her return to the hostel, she found herself reaching out to Gwyn in a new and genuine way. He seemed to pick up on her energy, becoming jovial and playful. It was now fun to be together.

  Each morning Delyth awoke half an hour before the alarm to spend time in prayer, drawing God’s divine love into her. She had previously imagined that giving herself to God would diminish her in some way, making her more placid, but instead, she discovered it expanded her, filling her with joy and making her more outgoing and confident. Rather than being a passive follower of Jesus, she was proactive, eagerly sharing God’s love with those around her. A new peace permeated her whole existence. Grateful for the changes in her life, she exulted in singing hymns of praise at church, now really understanding the music of the Lord. Gwyn stood beside her, also singing with gusto. At last, they were experiencing the love between them that had often seemed elusive.

  They continued attending church each Sunday, building their connection with God, each other and the church community. Gwyn became involved in doing little maintenance jobs for elderly parishioners. Fortunately, he also gave up the drink.

  Chapter 48

  Weekend at last. I wonder if Gwyn will want to go somewhere. They’d arrived late for breakfast and only a few stragglers were left in the dining room. Gwyn let the ‘Newcastle Morning Herald’ drop in front of him. He grabbed Delyth’s hand. “The time has come.”

  She looked at him, nonplussed. “For what?”

  “It says here they’re opening up tracts of land for housing estates. We don’t have to bother with a second-hand house. We can buy a block and start afresh, building our own home.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  “There are blocks available at New Lambton, right beside Blackbutt Reserve. We could go walking together like old times.”

  “When do you want to have a look?”

  “Right now.” Gwyn tore a large section out of the paper and they rushed out of the dining room, like young kids.

  In no time Delyth was climbing up behind Gwyn on the bike and they were on their way.

  After a short ride through the more established suburbs of Newcastle, they arrived at New Lambton. There, a network of roads, through cleared land, led to new homes dotted amongst others still under construction. All the houses were bungalows with good-sized yards. Most were made from weatherboard with tiled roofs. On the empty blocks were a variety of brightly displayed For Sale signs. Gwyn brought the bike to rest. “There are still plenty to choose from.”

  Delyth looked up at the eucalypt-covered hills that overlooked the estate. “That must be ‘Blackbutt Reserve’. It’d be lovely to build a house backing onto the bush. Then, we could look out and see it from our windows, like we used to see the hills from home.”

  “The only thing here is the risk of bushfires. I think we’d be better to get an elevated block a bit further away. We can still get views of the reserve that way.”

  Disappointing, but it makes good sense. She nodded. “We’ll still be able to go for plenty of walks.”

  “Of
course we will.” Gwyn took hold of her hand and looked down at her with a smile. They wandered about the area, imagining their new home and the views they’d have. “We want a bit of a slope to the road to give us good drainage without it being so steep as to cause slippage.”

  It didn’t take long to agree on their favourite block. Delyth took down the details and the name of the real estate agent. “Can we go for a walk in the reserve now?”

  “Yes, let’s do that.”

  They entered the bush, taking a narrow leaf-strewn track that meandered through trees, seemingly with no clear direction. Delyth listened to the twittering of a multitude of unfamiliar birds, as she strolled along, mesmerised by eucalypts with their tall, straight trunks reaching high into the sky. When they came upon a little stream Gwyn took her hand and she jumped across it after him. She looked around at the thick bracken, long grasses and other scrubby undergrowth. This was very different from Wales with its ageless farmland, but it had a natural beauty of its own, with the bush wrapping itself around you and transporting you away from mundane life. After a while, they came out upon a rough vehicular track, which they followed, deeper into the bush. Gwyn pointed to the black, angular surface below their feet. “This is coal.” Sure enough, a little further on they came upon a pit. “Just like home.”

  It felt comforting.

  As they retraced their steps Delyth reflected on how much her feelings toward Gwyn had changed. The little annoyances, that had previously irked her, had faded into nothing. She now saw, not his superficial behaviour, but the genuine love and kindness that motivated him. Her musings were interrupted by his voice telling a dirty yarn he’d heard from his mates and they laughed together. She loved his sense of fun and his easy-going ways.

  Back at the bike, he turned to her. “Well love, this is the place for us.”

  Delyth looked up into his eyes. “I’ve got some news, too.”

  “What’s that, aye?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Gwyn threw his arms around her. “That’s fantastic, cariad.”

  Chapter 49

  1982

  Natalie and Chris dawdled over breakfast in the vain hope that Mr Pekhu would make contact but they heard nothing. I knew he’d completely ignore me. But that’s not going to work. They set off together for the Ministry of Health, initially walking along the central esplanade. It was a fine clear morning, with heat already penetrating the air. Gentlemen dressed in suits and ties and women in glamorous frocks rushed past them. Some women wore headscarves while others had complicated little plaits all over their heads. That must take hours to do. She turned to Chris. “These people dress so formally. I don’t know how they bear it in the heat.” The buildings, mostly shops and boring-looking office blocks, appeared to have been constructed recently at minimum expense. When they reached the road, the grid design made it easy for Natalie to find her way back to the Ministry. They climbed the dark stairs and made their way along the corridor, Natalie smiling to herself at the thought of the surprise Mr Pekhu would receive when they arrived. He might think he’s rid of us but we’ve come a long way and aren’t going to be put off that easily. Her cheery ‘good morning’ received the same blank look as the previous day. Is this passive aggression or just plain ignorance?

  They were told to sit on the uncomfortable, timber chairs once again. Mr Pekhu searched through her file, which had miraculously appeared overnight. Perhaps he’s looking for the elusive work permit. Fortunately, Chris kept himself occupied with his books. After waiting about an hour, they were delivered to the Princess Marina hospital to await the Senior Social Worker, Fatima. Natalie sat outside her office on a hard, wooden bench while Chris skidded up and down the shiny, linoleum floor. After that he pushed his little cars up and down, making loud vehicle noises. She was past caring and there was hardly anyone around to be bothered. Only the occasional person walked along the corridor, ignoring them completely. Natalie looked at her watch. An hour and a half had passed since they’d arrived at the hospital and still no one came. This is what they mean by African time.

  Fatima, a large black woman, finally arrived, apologising profusely in impeccable English for keeping them waiting. “I told Mr Pekhu, just yesterday, I would be in a meeting all morning and would see you later in the day. You couldn’t bleep me either, because the paging system’s down at the moment.” So, what was this about no one expecting them? Mr Pekhu knew all along.

  They went into the office and sat down, Fatima behind a large desk that took up most of the room and Natalie in a comfortable chair beside the wall. Chris sat on a mat on the floor exploring the box of toys Fatima gave him. Her assistant soon arrived with cool soft drinks for them all. At last, they could relax. Fatima smiled across at Natalie. “I’m from Zimbabwe. I might look like the locals, but I’m a foreigner, same as you. The locals think foreigners suck the country dry of wealth that’s rightfully theirs. They treat us all with resentment.”

  Things are starting to make sense now.

  “I came here with my husband and children three years ago. There weren’t any good jobs at home. As soon as we’ve saved up enough, we’ll go back. By the way, I’ve got a good child-minder for my youngest. You’re welcome to leave Chris at my place while you’re in Gabarone if you like.”

  “That would be great. I’m supposed to be working at the hospital in Francistown. Do you have any idea how long it’ll be until I go there?”

  “No idea. You know what it’s like trying to get information from Mr Pekhu.”

  “At least I’ve found someone who’s friendly.”

  “I don’t know why the Batswana are so upset with us. They were never colonised, just a protectorate of Britain, at their own request, until independence in 1966. The discovery of diamonds and copper has made them a rich country as far as Africa goes. With the recent construction of schools, houses and shopping complexes, they’re relatively well off.”

  Fatima drove them to her house, close by, where they had lunch. Chris was happy to stay there for the rest of the day with her young son. Back at the hospital, Fatima showed Natalie around. It didn’t take her long to get into the swing of shaking hands and greeting the staff with a cheery ‘dumela’. Everyone they met chatted away in Setswana, despite apparently being able to speak good English. Obviously, I’m not worth including.

  Fatima led the way to the medical wards. “Prepare yourself. This isn’t a pleasant sight.”

  Though she’d never experienced it before, Natalie could smell death as she entered the ward. She looked down at the emaciated bodies of young men struggling to breathe. Vacant, sunken eyes looked out of listless, skeletal bodies. She felt sick with what she saw. All she wanted to do was run away but she stood her ground while Fatima completed her work there.

  It was a relief to return to the office, where Fatima explained the plight of patients. “AIDS is starting to take hold in Botswana. Most of those you saw have tuberculosis, which the hospital tries to treat. Towards the end, they often suffer from dementia as well. There’s no treatment for AIDS but families bring them to the hospital when they can’t look after them anymore.”

  At the end of the day, Fatima drove them back to her place.

  “We’ll be right to walk back to the hotel from here,” asserted Natalie.

  “Are you sure? I’m happy to drive you.”

  “We’ll be right.” Famous last words. Every time Chris and she crossed a main road, drivers accelerated towards them, honking their horns, even when they were on a crossing. This is terrifying. Dropping in at a shop, she discovered the same attitude. Other customers shoved her out of the way to be served first. Finally, they reached the comfort and safety of the hotel. There, the normalcy of characters on English television programmes seemed more real than the people she’d come across during the day.

  On Friday, as instructed, Natalie rang the lost property office at the airport. “Come and collect your case,” she was ordered. Unsure how to get there, she spoke to Fatima, w
ho organised hospital transport. At the airport, she was taken to the lost property room, which was piled to shoulder height with luggage of all description. She rummaged through the bags, relieved to find her suitcase. The customs officer then insisted on opening it to delve through her personal items, before weighing it. Finally, she returned to the vehicle. I’m so glad to get out of that place.

  An invitation to dinner by Australian volunteers working in Gaborone gave her something to look forward to. Fatima was happy to have Chris for the evening. She joined the others at an Indian restaurant, bracing herself for the unfamiliar spicy food. After initial introductions, she hardly got a word in. Disaster story followed disaster story as those present competed to see who could tell the most harrowing tale, warning her of perils that lay ahead. This is the last thing I need at the moment.

  On Monday, Natalie returned to the Ministry, determined to find out when she was going to Francistown to start her job. However, she was told Mrs Mathis, the person who’d been expecting her, was still on leave, following the death of a relative. Back to the hospital, she went. All she could do was sit in Fatima’s office, reading about AIDS. She discovered in Botswana, unlike the western world, HIV was principally passed on by heterosexual relations. People tended to ignore campaigns encouraging the ABC of safe sex – abstain, be faithful, condomise. Because many men couldn’t afford the bride price, sexual activity was often indiscriminate, causing the disease to spread rapidly. The consequence of this was that the majority of births were to unmarried mothers, with many girls having one or two babies before they finished school. Natalie looked up from her reading. “Fatima, AIDS is creating a dreadful situation here. How do people cope?”

  “Many less educated people deny the problem or blame a witch doctor for putting a spell on them. Others can’t cope with facing their families with the implication of infidelity. Suicide isn’t uncommon.”