Suddenly Bala felt the vehicle dipped slightly and the face of a black woman dressed in a dirty white nurse's uniform loomed over him. She smiled at him encouragingly. He felt her check his pulse and then watched as she set up an I.V. drip next to him in the taxi. The doctor appeared again and he felt the sting of a needle piercing a vein in his arm.
"This will ease the pain." the doctor said. "And as soon as a theatre becomes available we'll come and fetch you. Just lie here and try to relax."
When the needle of the I.V. drip had been inserted into a vein in his wrist Bala felt the nurse begin to clean and sterilise his wound. The sedative began to ease the pain in his body and drowsiness overcame him. He felt the coat that had been draped over him being removed and replaced with a thick blanket.
"Can't we take him to another hospital?" Bala heard one of the men ask the nurse.
"The only other hospital is the Coronation Hospital and that's even more crowded than Bara." the nurse replied.
"What about a white hospital?" the man asked. "Surely if a man's dying they'll admit him."
The nurse laughed.
"No white hospital in the country is allowed to take in blacks." she said. "Even if that person is dying. The white man's apartheid laws don't allow it."
Bala lay in the back of the taxi as the pain in his belly gradually eased. He thought of Fatima and Salona, imagining their fear and worry. His frustration at his helplessness grew but he was incapable of doing anything. Gradually his eyes closed and he drifted into unconsciousness.
***
Fatima Desai stood at the lounge window of their house in Lenasia anxiously watching the street that her husband usually walked along when he returned from working in Johannesburg. She glanced at her watch. It was almost half past six. Bala had never been this late before. It was almost dark outside and the lights in the neighbouring houses were beginning to glow.
"Why's daddy so late?" Salona asked as she sat on the lounge carpet cradling one of her rag dolls in her arms.
"I don't know dearest." Fatima replied. "Perhaps he missed his train or the trains are running late."
"Can't we go and look for him? Maybe he needs us to help him carry his big suitcase." the little girl asked.
"If he's not here in another fifteen minutes we'll do that." Fatima said. "Then we can help him carry his suitcase."
But fifteen minutes later Bala had still not arrived.
"Put on your jersey, Salona, my dear." Fatima said. "We're going to look for your father. The trains surely can't be running this late."
Salona hurried to her bedroom and came back with her red jersey. Fatima helped her to put it on. They walked to the front door and out of the house, Salona still carrying her rag doll. Hand in hand they walked along the dusty street towards the train station, warily watching the other people who passed them. Eventually they reached the floodlit station.
"Are the trains running late today?" Fatima asked the guard at the entrance to the station.
"No. All the trains have been on time so far." the man replied. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm worried about my husband." Fatima said. "He's very late today. Usually he's home by six o'clock at the latest."
"Is your husband a short Indian man who carried a big suitcase?" the man asked.
Fatima felt fear begin to grow inside her. She looked anxiously at the black guard.
"Yes. Do you know him? Did you see him this afternoon?" Fatima asked, her heart beating faster.
"Yes. I see him every day." the man replied. "But, although I'm not sure, I did see a man with black hair being carried from the train that your husband usually travels on and put into a taxi in the street. I heard that the man had been stabbed by tsotsis on the train. But I'm not sure that the man was the one you're looking for."
"Oh, no!" Fatima gasped. "Where did they take him?"
"I think they took him to Baragwanath Hospital." the guard said.
"When did this happen?" Fatima asked.
"About an hour ago." the guard said. "I was busy checking train tickets and didn't take too much notice of what was happening."
"Was he badly hurt?" Fatima asked as tears welled up in her eyes.
"I don't know, although I heard later that he'd been stabbed in the stomach." the guard said.
"Oh, dear!" Fatima said pulling Salona closer to her side. "Thank you."
Taking Salona's hand Fatima hurried away from the station.
"Is daddy hurt?" Salona asked.
"I don't know, dearest. But if he is, I'm sure he'll be okay." Fatima said. "If he was badly hurt he would have sent us a message. But I'm going to take you to Misses Jassat's house while I go to the hospital to see your father. You are not to worry though. I'm sure your father is okay. So while I'm away, be a good girl and stay with Misses Jassat. I'm sure that I won't be away for long."
"Can't I come with you?" Salona asked.
"I think that you should rather stay with Misses Jassat." Fatima said. "It's a long way to the hospital."
"Okay." the little girl said.
Fatima left Salona at her neighbour's house and hurried back to the station. Fortunately there were still several taxis at the taxi rank. She walked to the front one and spoke to the driver.
"I need to go to Baragwanath Hospital urgently." she told the man. "My husband was stabbed while travelling on the train and I must get to his side as soon as possible."
"Okay." the man replied. "But it will cost you ten Rand as you will be the only passenger. And you must pay cash in advance."
Fatima withdrew her purse from her pocket and extracted the money. She handed it to the driver. He climbed in behind the wheel while Fatima opened the side sliding door and climbed into the back of the vehicle. The taxi moved off along the deeply rutted dirt street. Fatima stared out of the side window hardly noticing the dim shapes of the houses that they passed.
"Please let Bala be okay." she prayed silently to herself. "Please don't let him be badly hurt. I love him so dearly. I can't live without him. And little Salona? How would she cope without her beloved daddy? He has to be okay."
The taxi moved slowly through the darkness, swaying and bumping over the uneven dirt roads. Eventually they reached the tarred road and the taxi was able to increase its speed.
"There's the hospital now." the taxi driver said over his shoulder to Fatima as he pointed to the brightly-lit entrance ahead, although she noticed that only a few of the floodlights in the parking area were working.
The driver steered the vehicle through the gateway and across the vast parking area until he reached the reception area. Fatima climbed out of the taxi and slid the side sliding door closed.
"Do you want me to wait?" the taxi driver asked.
"No, thank you." Fatima replied. "I don't know how long I'm going to be here."
As the taxi drove away Fatima climbed the steps and entered the reception area. She hurried to the counter.
"I'm looking for a Mister Bala Desai." she said to the black woman behind the counter. "I think that he was admitted earlier this evening."
The receptionist consulted a large register on the counter top.
"Yes, he has been admitted for a stomach wound." the woman said.
"Which ward is he in?" Fatima asked.
The receptionist looked slightly embarrassed.
"Actually, he isn't in a ward." she said. "The hospital is so full that we were unable to find a bed for Mister Desai."
"But, where is he then?" Fatima asked.
"As far as I know he's being attended to in a taxi in the car park." the receptionist replied. "There is just no room in the hospital right now. In fact, we have over fifty patients sleeping on the floors of the wards. The doctor felt that it would be better for Mister Desai if he lay on the seat of the taxi instead of on the floor here in the hospital."
Fatima nodded, shocked at what the woman had just told her.
"He's in the back of a taxi?" she asked incredulously.
"Unfortu
nately, yes." the receptionist replied. "The hospital is hopelessly understaffed and under equipped. The government is always promising us more funds but they never arrive. We're doing the best that we can under the circumstances."
"Thank you." Fatima said as she turned and hurried out to the car park.
There were at least ten white taxis parked in the parking lot. Fatima hurried to the nearest one and peered into the back compartment. It was empty. As she moved towards the next vehicle she noticed three men standing next to the open side door of a taxi further along the line. Inside the vehicle she could detect a figure lying on the seat and covered with a thick grey blanket. She noticed an I.V. plastic bag hanging from a hook next to the prone man and connected to his wrist. She hurried towards the taxi and, before the men standing nearby could stop her, she climbed into the back of the taxi and peered down at the man under the blanket.
"Oh, thank heavens!" she exclaimed. "Bala! Thank God I've found you!"
"Are you Mister Desai's wife?" she heard a voice behind her ask.
Fatima turned to face the black man standing at the door of the taxi.
"Yes." she said. "Tell me what happened. Do you know what happened? Is he going to be alright?"
"He's been sedated and his wound has been cleaned and dressed." the man said. "The doctor is waiting for an operating theatre to become available. Your husband was stabbed in the stomach by some young thugs on the train so we brought him here. Whether or not he's alright, I really don't know. The doctor seems quite confident though that he'll be okay. We're hoping and praying for him."
"What can I do to help my husband?" Fatima asked.
"Perhaps you can just sit and talk to him." the man suggested. "I've heard that even when they're unconscious people can be aware of another's presence and this can inspire them to survive."
"Who brought him here? You?" Fatima asked.
"We did." the man said pointing to the two other black men standing nearby. "That man's the taxi driver and the other one's a friend of mine."
"Then I must pay you for all the trouble you've gone to to help my husband." Fatima said as she reached for her purse.
The man held up his hands, the palms facing Fatima.
"Don't worry about that now." he said. "Let's wait until Mister Desai is safely in the hospital and going to be okay. We can sort out the finances later. Just sit with your husband and comfort him. Even though he's unconscious your presence will help him"
"Thank you so much for your help." Fatima said. "I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you and your friends for what you've done to help my husband. Such kindness in very rare."
"Think nothing of it." the man said. "We're glad that we were able to help."
***
The sound of the doctor and the nurse approaching with a wheeled stretcher woke Fatima. She sat up quickly and glanced at her watch in the light from the closest floodlight that was working. It was eleven thirty.
"Are you Mister Desai's wife?" the doctor asked.
"Yes. Is he going to be okay?" Fatima asked.
"We don't know yet." the doctor replied. "I've stabilised him and cleaned the wound as best I could. I've managed to get your husband into one of the operating theatres. Only after the surgeon has seen the wound will we know what to expect. There may be internal bleeding and some other complications. Now, will you please move aside so that we can get your husband onto the stretcher and take him to surgery?"
Fatima climbed out of the back of the taxi, struggling to hold back her tears. She was terrified that Bala might die. She watched anxiously as the doctor and nurse carefully lifted Bala out of the taxi and placed him on the stretcher. She became aware of the three black men who had brought Bala to the hospital also watching apprehensively as Bala was wheeled away.
"You'd better go with them, Misses Desai." one of the men said. "You need to be with him."
"Of course." Fatima said. "But what about the three of you? How can I ever repay you for your kindness? Please let me pay you something."
The man waved his hand.
"We don't need any payment." he said. "We only did what anyone would have done under the circumstances. Your husband's life was in danger and we're glad that we could help. Now, go with your husband. We will pray for him and you."
Tears streamed down Fatima's cheeks as she looked at the three black men. They were obvious not well off and yet they had sacrificed their time and money to help a stranger.
"Thank you, and may God bless you." she said, touching the man's arm.
Fatima turned and hurried after the doctor and nurse as they wheeled the stretcher through the entrance to the casualty section and into the hospital.
"You'll have to wait in the public waiting room." the doctor told Fatima. "It's very crowded but at least you'll be safe there. I'll try to keep you informed as to your husband's condition."
Fatima stepped up to the stretcher. She bent down and kissed Bala gently on his forehead.
"Oh, Bala." she whispered. "I love you so much. And so does Salona. Please get better and come back to us."
***
"I've got bad news for you, Mister Zuma." Bogdan Vodnik said to Isaiah as they sat down at one of the white tables on the pavement of the continental coffee shop in Hillbrow. "The Security Police are onto you and me. I've just spent a harrowing week at John Vorster Square and unfortunately I was forced to inform them of my association with you and your organisation. I tried to resist but I was not strong enough and they broke me."
Isaiah watched the white man sitting opposite him closely. He could plainly see the results of the man's interrogation at the hands of the security police; the dark patches below his eyes, the haunted look in his eyes as if he expected to be hurt or even killed at any moment, and the gauntness of his body. The man had obviously undergone a harsh and frightening experience. His whole countenance implied defeat.
Isaiah felt his hatred for the white regime that dominated his people well up within him and he experienced a strong feeling of sympathy for the man sitting at the table with him. The man wasn't even a South African citizen and now he had been forced into a situation that put his life in danger no matter what he now did. Regardless of which side he took, the side of the white government or the side of the freedom fighters, it was inevitable that he would eventually pay the ultimate price. He had been trapped in a war that really had nothing to do with him.
"From what you've just told me, it seems that our enemies are aware of my connection with Umkhonto weSizwe." Isaiah said. "And yet I have not been arrested. Why?"
"I'm ashamed to tell you that, not only have I betrayed you and your organisation, but I have also been forced to work with your enemies." Bogdan replied. "I think that the reasons why you haven't yet been detained are firstly, that they want to curtail your military operation and, secondly, they're hoping that you will lead them to your superiors."
Isaiah nodded.
"I think that you're quite right about them wanting me to lead them to my superiors," he said, "but how are they planning to curtail our military operations?"
"The police have instructed me to provide you with detonators supplied to me by them and not by my usual suppliers." Bogdan replied. "I've no doubt that the detonators will be faulty in which case the bombs that you produce will not explode. The police have warned me to tell you that the detonators came from my suppliers so that you won't suspect any trickery."
"And so, by the time that we realise that we've been tricked they are hoping that I will have led them to our leaders." Isaiah said, his face grim.
"Exactly." Bogdan said. "I think that they are also hoping that when you realise that I was part of the trickery, you'll eliminate me and save them the trouble."
"And now that you've decide to betray them and not us, what do you think they'll do?" Isaiah asked.
"Probably eliminate me themselves or re-arrest me and charge me with treason." Bogdan replied. "And this time, I've no doubt, they won't offer me a way out
. I'll either be imprisoned for life or they'll hang me."
"So what are you going to do?" Isaiah asked. "Skip the country?"
"I can't." Bogdan said. "The police confiscated my passport and I have to report to them one a week. The minute I don't report to them or your bombs continue to explode, they'll watch all the border posts and start searching for me. I'm trapped here. Getting out of the country without some kind of help is impossible."
"So you want the A.N.C. to help you?" Isaiah asked.
"Well, the A.N.C. got me into this predicament in the first place." Bogdan said. "You forced me into this by blackmailing me and using your enemy's laws to do so."
Isaiah nodded.
"I suppose we did." he said. "But it's not up to me to make decisions of this kind. I will obviously have to speak to my superiors. Do you have any military experience?"
"No." Bogdan replied. "I left Yugoslavia before doing my military service."
"Is there any way that you believe that you could be of assistance to us?" Isaiah asked.
"The only thing that I can think of is my ability to acquire illegal items." Bogdan said. "I have quite a vast network of contacts. Perhaps I could help your organisation in that way. I've no doubt that there are a great many illegal items that you need that I could get for you."
"That's possible." Isaiah conceded. "Okay. I'll speak to my superiors as soon as possible. In the mean time I want you to try and stall the police. I've no doubt, from what you've told me, that right now we are under surveillance so you must pretend to them that you are still working for them and that I will shortly be placing an order for equipment to make bombs. But you must understand that I'm in no position to grant you the help that you require. That decision lies with my superiors."
"I understand." Bogdan said. "And I'm trusting that you'll do your best to help me."
"I'll do that." Isaiah said.
***
Fatima's eyes opened as the sound of the doctor noisily clearing his throat woke her. At first she struggled to orientate herself and then the memories of Bala's injury and her frantic trip to Baragwanath Hospital flooded into her mind. The doctor smiled as she stared up at him from the worn lounge chair where she had been dozing.
The Colour of Gold Page 23