Parallel Lives

by Narelle Minton

  Chapter 50

  Good news. At last, she was heading off to Francistown and she’d get to see some of the country-side on the way. The clock in the hotel foyer, where Chris and she waited for her 7.45 pick-up, showed 7.40 a.m. They waited impatiently. Surely, transport will arrive soon. Still nothing at 8.15. She rang Mr Pekhu. “What time does the bus leave?”

  “Nine o’clock. I’ll send someone round to collect you.”

  He’s forgotten us again. How long we’d have sat here waiting is anybody’s guess.

  At 8.30 a vehicle arrived. The friendly driver put their luggage into the rear and they were on their way. After exchanging niceties, Natalie asked about his family.

  “I’m not married but I have three children.”

  “Do you want to marry?”

  “Yes, but I can’t afford it. I’d have to pay her parents the equivalent of three head of cattle. All my money is spent on schooling the children.”

  Natalie glanced at her watch. It was 8.48 when they pulled up at the railway station. “No, it’s the bus terminal I want.”

  “No problem.” The driver drew away, waving and calling out the window to mates from time to time as they drifted along in no apparent hurry.

  It was two minutes before nine when finally they reached the bus. Natalie watched carefully as their luggage was stowed in the under compartment. They climbed aboard, encountering a sea of black faces. Women with their heads wrapped in scarves were surrounded by children of various ages. Most of the men wore business suits, despite the already intense heat. People were sprawled everywhere and seemed to be gaping at them as if they were from outer space. Noticing a vacant seat, Natalie enquired of the woman sitting beside it if it was available. The woman ignored her, turning to look out the window.

  “You can sit here,” called a gentleman, dressed immaculately in suit and tie. She sat down beside him, allowing enough room for Chris to squeeze in beside her. The gentleman smiled at her. “I’m a teacher from Zambia travelling to my new school. In Botswana, the salaries are much higher. Unfortunately, I’ve had to leave my wife and children behind to take up the position.”

  Ah, another foreigner. We have to look out for each other. Before long Chris dozed off, leaving Natalie free to focus on the passing scenery. The road was long and straight, passing through flat, sandy country, vegetated by thorn bushes and stunted trees. Though the land appeared arid and infertile, much of it was fenced off and contained large numbers of healthy looking cattle. They continued mile after hot mile. Nothing changed except for the occasional village of mud huts with thatched roofs clustered together on cleared, dusty land. Beside the villages, there were often small fields of crops, with donkeys and goats roaming beside the road.

  After two hours the bus drew up at a service centre. Chris was jolted awake. “Mum, I need the toilet.”

  With toilet facilities close by, the two of them got off the bus. Chris ducked into the men’s toilet and Natalie went into the adjoining ladies’. As she came out she saw Chris climbing back onto the bus. The doors closed and the bus started to pull away. Running up it, she hammered loudly on the door. Fortunately, it stopped and let her in. Natalie caught her breath. What if she’d been left behind? How would Chris have coped in Francistown all alone? How would she have got there without any money? What would have happened to their luggage?

  At about 1.30, the bus stopped at another service centre to enable people to purchase lunch. Though ravenous after a 6.30 breakfast, Natalie was too frightened of missing the bus to do anything more than rush into the shop and buy the closest packet of biscuits, which she shared with Chris.

  There was little variation in the monotonous scenery as they continued north until finally, they approached Sashe River, where the vegetation was a little less sparse and trees somewhat taller. The river was nothing more than a dry, sandy bed. Mud and concrete huts were scattered indiscriminately over a dusty, forlorn expanse of land beside it.

  A further thirty kilometres brought them to the outskirts of Francistown. Natalie stared out the window at a hotchpot of concrete hovels. Many of the corrugated iron roofs were held down by broken bricks and rocks. They were more like chicken coops than human dwellings. Finally, they reached the bus rank and, on this occasion, someone was waiting for them.

  It was only a short drive to the hospital, where they were taken to meet the Chief Administrative Officer. Mrs Magape extended her hand to Natalie. “Were you met all right off the bus?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “We were not aware a senior social worker had been appointed to the hospital until Mr Pekhu rang an hour and a half ago. May I have your appointment letter?”

  Natalie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry in the absence of another apparently all important document. She smiled helplessly and explained the situation.

  “It’s great you’re still smiling after such a long, hot trip. I’ll arrange for you to be taken to your hotel now so you can relax for the rest of the afternoon. You’ll be collected for work at 7.20. in the morning.”

  At last, I’ve found a Batswana with compassion. Hopefully, it’s a good sign.

  As they walked back to the vehicle, she was greeted by a short, white woman with glasses and cropped fair hair. This was Winnie, the AVA occupational therapist she’d heard about. “You’ll be going to the Thapama Hotel. Everyone goes there to start with. I’ll call round to see you after work. Would you like to have dinner at our place this evening?” Natalie gratefully accepted the invitation. Winnie apparently had two children and a husband. She should be able to help me organise a school for Chris.

  After she’d signed in at the hotel reception, a porter, dressed smartly in black trousers and a white shirt, led them along a path between picturesque gardens, where they were greeted by the scent of flowers and the twittering of birds. An attractive oval-shaped swimming pool was set in a paved area with a number of tables and chairs beneath sun umbrellas. It looks so enticing. They continued along the path to their room. A single storey construction, modern in design with large windows overlooking the garden, it contained two single beds, a table and chair, bench, television and bathroom. We’ve certainly landed on our feet here.

  Natalie scrummaged through their suitcases for their swimming costumes and they were soon relaxing in the refreshing, cool water of the pool. Small, blue wrens hopped about amongst the surrounding trees and bushes. After their swim, they relaxed on sun-lounges and Natalie ordered drinks from the friendly bar staff. The relaxed atmosphere was so different from the bustle of Gabarone.

  They returned to their room for showers. Then, Natalie discovered she was unable to open the unit door to get out. It must be locked. She fiddled with the door catch, this way and that, pulling the door with all her might, but it wouldn’t budge. They were trapped. I’ve got to get help. Chris isn’t tall enough to see out the bathroom window overlooking the path. Hopefully the sink will take my weight. Natalie climbed up and peered out the tiny window. No one was in sight. Her cries for help went unanswered. Finally, a woman came along. Natalie asked her to get some assistance from reception. Relieved, she leapt back down. One more try with that stupid door. With a great heave, it opened. Natalie laughed. Am I jinxed in this country or something?

  Winnie duly arrived in an old Toyota station wagon and Natalie and Chris joined her for the drive to her place. They passed through the town centre along a pleasant tree-studded street with a number of old-fashioned shops. It had a comfortable feel about it with its SPAR supermarket, Woolworths, cinema, Barclays Bank and, of course, post office. After a short drive through the suburbs, Winnie pulled up at a concrete block, government house, identical to all those around it. Once inside, Winnie’s husband, Jim, a tall, gangly man, welcomed Natalie with a broad ocker accent. Their two daughters were deeply tanned and wore the same close-cropped hairstyle as their mother. Gayle, a shy seven-year-old, appeared reserved in contrast to Katie, a solid little three-year-old, as vibrant as a rubber ball bouncing ab
out.

  Jim, having taken on the role of house-husband, served up a tasty meal of meat and vegetables. It’s so relaxing to be with a normal, Australian family. Following the meal, Chris played games with the girls, while the adults chatted about everything from Australian politics to travel destinations in Africa. Gayle attended a local school where Natalie would be able to enrol Chris. Jim was only too happy to look after him before and after school. It’s a relief to have come across such a lovely family and to find things finally falling into place at last.

  Chapter 51

  After organising for Chris to attend Gayle’s school, Natalie left him with Jim and joined Winnie to walk to the hospital. They stopped on route to collect Mosarwa, a young Batswana social worker and continued together. A lively woman, with skin little darker than her own, Mosarwa’s ponytail bobbed about as she spoke. “Michael, he’s a male social worker, started at Nyangabgwe Hospital at the same time as me, three years ago. We both came straight from uni and had to run the department on our own. A year after that, another new graduate, Mary, joined us. We’ve been desperate to get an experienced hospital social worker so we can develop our skills.”

  Natalie smiled. “It sounds like you’ve done well to manage on your own all this time.” Probably not wise, at present, to mention my lack of hospital experience.

  They arrived at the converted ward where the social work, O.T. and acupuncture departments were located. Michael, an attractive, dark-skinned, young man, came forward to shake hands and welcome her. His eyes sparkled with mischief, as he challenged her with quips that tested her intellect and alertness. On the other hand, pale skinned Mary was far more prim and proper, speaking with a pretentious formality that hinted at snobbery. She soon enlightened Natalie on her commitment to the born-again Christian movement, inviting her to attend a prayer meeting that afternoon. “No thank you. I need to get back to my son when I finish work.”

  With only two social work offices, Natalie would have to share Mosarwa’s room. Mary offered to organise a desk from stores for her while Michael showed her around the large four hundred bed hospital. As they walked along the covered open-air walkway to the wards, Michael introduced her to people with long, unpronounceable names. She smiled at each person. ‘Dumela ma’ or ‘dumela ra’ were chanted as appropriate and hands shook in the now familiar way, with the right elbow resting on the left hand as a sign of respect. Michael treated each new person as a long lost friend, demonstrating an enviable level of rapport.

  The medical wards included an even higher percentage of AIDS patients than she’d seen at Gaborone, most with associated illnesses, such as tuberculosis. At least, by now, she’d become a little immune to the ghastly appearance of these patients. In the orthopaedic wards, Natalie was surprised to discover most of the patients were road accident victims, having run into elephants or ostriches while driving at speeds frequently over 160 km an hour.

  On her return to the department, Natalie discovered a small, dilapidated desk. Michael helped her carry it into the corner of Mosarwa’s office. He left the room and she sat down behind the desk on an uncomfortable swivel chair and gazed out the window at various staff passing by. At least I have a place now, even if it’s not quite what I anticipated.

  Because of her reliance on the other social workers to learn about the hospital and her role, Natalie determined she wasn’t in a position to pull rank and demand her own office or a larger desk. She recalled the advice provided at the AVA briefing to accommodate to cultural differences. Building up sound relations with them has to be my first priority. It can’t be easy having a foreigner walk into their midst and take over the running of their department.

  After a day familiarising herself with the hospital and its routines, Natalie joined Winnie for the walk back to her place. There they found Chris sitting by himself on the front step, hunched over and looking wretched. He ignored Natalie’s ‘hello’. The two women went into the house. The look on Jim’s face made it obvious something was very wrong. “I don’t know what happened at school today. Chris hasn’t said a word since I picked him up. And he won’t eat anything.”

  On the walk home, Chris dragged behind Natalie, still refusing to speak. When they got back to their hotel room Chris didn’t even turn the television on. He just lay down on his bed.

  Natalie walked over to him. “What’s wrong, darling?”

  He turned his back to her.

  “I’m going to get changed and make a cup of tea. If you want to talk to me, I’m here.”

  Suddenly, Chris flew into her arms, tears flooding down his cheeks. “Mum, I’m never going back to that school. The teacher beat me with a big stick.”

  Natalie caught sight of two, big, red welts across his legs.

  “That’s awful! You couldn’t have done anything to deserve that.”

  “No, Mum. He did it to everyone in the class, as a warning. I got two because I ran away.”

  “I don’t blame you. I’ll go down to the school first thing tomorrow and speak to your teacher.”

  “I’m not going back. I want to go home and live with Grandma and Grandpa. They said I could.”

  “I know they did but what if I could find you a better school? There’s an international school in town. I’m sure it doesn’t happen there.”

  Chris burst into tears again. “Mum, I’ve had enough. I just want to go home. Please understand.”

  “Let’s think about it overnight.”

  “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  I know he won’t.

  She went to the school the next morning with Chris in tow, demanding an explanation for the bruises, still clearly visible on his legs.

  “It’s our policy, madam. Children require discipline.”

  “That’s not discipline. That’s child abuse. It’s very damaging.”

  “You’re a white, you don’t understand our culture.”

  What could she say? “Chris will not be returning here.”

  They left the school grounds together. “I’m sorry, Chris. I can’t believe someone could treat children like that. Shall I check out the other school?”

  “No, I want to go home.”

  “All right. It will mean flying by yourself, though.”

  “I don’t care. It’s better than being beaten.”

  Of course, Gwyn was only too happy to take Chris and he did manage to restrain himself from saying ‘I told you so’. The flights were arranged. Natalie flew with Chris to Johannesburg, where they spent a couple of hours together exploring the markets before she put him on a flight to Sydney, where his grandparents would collect him. She returned to Francistown, despondent. This was her second big loss in less than a year. She could have returned to Australia with Chris but she wasn’t ready to face the real world. I’m needed here where I can make a difference. Anyway, it’ll be less than two years before we’re back together and we can write to each other in the meantime.

  Chapter 52

  When she returned to the hotel in Francistown, Natalie hesitated at the door of her room. Slowly, she unlocked it and dragged herself inside. An eerie silence pervaded the place. She threw her bags on the bed. No cartoons, no smart-aleck remarks from Chris. What have I done?

  Looking around the room, she noticed her puzzle book on the bedside table. Going over to the bed, she pushed her bags aside, shoved the pillows together against the back-rest and made herself comfortable. She picked up the book and immersed herself in a complicated crossword puzzle. Before long she dozed off, waking just in time for dinner. Life goes on.

  Next morning she awoke, her body trembling, a gloomy feeling hanging over her. She opened her eyes to realise she was all alone and recalled what had happened. I’ve got to keep busy to stop thinking about Chris. After a quick breakfast, she was on her way, ambling across a large stretch of vacant land. The sun shone down on a multitude of little, purple flowers, where birds fluttered about beneath the clear, blue sky. I’ll manage.

  On arrival at th
e hospital, she called a staff meeting. Mary dragged a chair from her office into the small remaining space in Mosarwa’s and her room. Michael perched on her desk, where he could peer over her shoulder to read her notes. She started with the spiel she’d rehearsed in her head. “It’s good to have everyone together. I want you to know that I don’t plan to run things in an autocratic way. I think everyone has a lot to contribute and I want us to be able to share our ideas and opinions. As a team, we can jointly agree on goals and a plan of action. We’ll meet once a week to do this.”

  Mosarwa interrupted. “We’re working flat out here. We don’t have time for meetings. It’s your job to do the management.” Michael nodded. Mary looked at the wall in stony silence.

  They’re not going to make it easy. “With the AIDS pandemic, I realise the job is very demanding. I want you to know that I’m here to support you in whatever way I can. I plan on seeing patients on the wards to ease your workload.”

  That brought a different response. After some animated discussion amongst themselves, it was agreed Natalie would take on the female medical, paediatric surgical and isolation wards.

  On the female medical ward, Natalie’s main task was educating patients about AIDS prevention. After a brief description of HIV (human immunodeficiency virus), its transmission and methods of protection, she advised, “Make sure you always use condoms when you’re having sex.” Alas, the same reply was repeated over and over. ‘I must do what my boyfriend tells me. He will not use condoms.’ The situation was made harder by the need to use nurses as interpreters with most patients not speaking English. It was clear nurses frequently put their own slant on the conversation or reprimanded patients in a hostile way. All patients were tested for HIV but, with results taking several days to process, most had left the hospital before results were available. It’s all a bit pointless.

  “Madam, madam, come here,” a patient called. Natalie walked over to the bed. “My three children are at home without any food. Will you contact my friend to feed them?”