Mama Tequila made a note to get to know him better. He was clever and he was corrupt. It was a combination she understood and generally found to be useful in a young man. 'Okay, sonny, let's talk!' She smiled, then pointed to the oval picture on the wall. 'Your daddy has told me how proud he is of you, Jamal. He tells me you the first one in his family, even if you could go back three hundred years, even more,' who has been to the university. Magtig! He thinks the sun and also the moon shine out of your backside!'
Jamal Vindoo looked slightly uncomfortable as he too looked up at the picture of his father. 'He is a good man, even, in his own way, an éminence grise.'
'You can say that again! Eminence is right. Only the other day I heard they going to make him a member of the Indian Academy! This is a very big exclusive honour for a man who didn't go even to high school.'
'Yes, he's delighted, election to the Academy is very important to him.'
'Not only him, man! Only very high-up Indians are on that thing.' Mama Tequila paused, 'Your father, he is more than a good man, you hear? More, much more! Your father is a man a person can trust!' She produced a small handkerchief from her bag and, sighing, dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She replaced the hanky and withdrew an envelope which she offered to the young Indian photographer. 'Here, open it, see what is inside.'
Jamal Vindoo took the envelope while Mama Tequila returned to scrummaging in her bag. The photograph he withdrew from the envelope lacked the quality of his own work but the subject and detail was unmistakable. It showed Mr Dine-o-Mite in the nude, his small body and spindly legs no bigger than those of a prepubescent boy. He still wore his steel-rimmed glasses and his face carried a slightly bemused expression as Sarah knelt in front of him, enclosing him.
'Ag, here it is!' Mama Tequila exclaimed as she produced a second envelope. 'The negative!' She removed the negative and held it up for him to see, then she replaced it in the envelope.
Without a word Jamal rose and, placing the picture he held back into its envelope, he put it into his shirt pocket and disappeared through the curtained doorway. He returned a minute or two later carrying a second envelope which he dropped on Mama Tequila's lap.
Mama Tequila looked up and smiled, fanning herself with the envelope containing the negative of Jamal's daddy. The young photographer now stood in front of her, a surly expression on his handsome young face, his hand arrogantly proffered, ready to take the envelope she held.
Mama Tequila continued to fan herself with it, seemingly unaware of his open hand. Jamal felt his hand grow heavy, as though it suddenly contained too much blood. Every muscle in his body strained to snatch the envelope but he lacked the courage to do so. Mama Tequila held her small smile and he found himself mesmerised, quite unable to act. He bit down hard on his back teeth to prevent himself from crying out in frustration.
Still smiling, Mama Tequila put the envelope he had given her into her bag. Then, to Jamal's consternation, she also replaced the envelope containing the negative. This was too much for the young Indian. 'That negative belongs to me now!' he expostulated.
Mama Tequila reached forward and withdrew a cork-tip from the silver case and, squinting, lit it with her Zippo.
Inhaling deeply, she rested back into the wicker couch and blew a cloud of blue smoke into the young man's crutch.
Finally she looked up at him. 'Negatives are a madam's bread and butter.' She arched her eyebrow slightly, imitating his own earlier expression. 'You never know when and how you going to need them, do you?'
When Jamal Vindoo hadn't snatched the envelope from her hand, Mama Tequila knew she'd broken him. She picked up her silver cigarette case and thumbed it open, offering it to Jama!. 'Cigarette?'
The young photographer bent down gratefully and took a cigarette from the silver case, lighting it from the Zippo Mama Tequila held. Then he moved over to sit in the wicker chair nearest to her.
Mama Tequila's voice was businesslike. 'Your pictures are good, man. I can use you. Ten pounds with the negative. That for every client.' She drew on her cigarette, then exhaled. 'What do you say, Mr Photographer?'
Jamal Vindoo suddenly burst into laughter. Bending forward he stubbed his cigarette into the brass ashtray. 'You know something? I, don't even smoke!' he exclaimed. Turning to her he extended his hand. 'You got a deal, Mama Tequila, but only if I get that negative of my father!'
Mama Tequila rose slowly. 'I'll do better than that, my boy.' She plucked a paper rose from the brass vase on the table and held it to the God lamp on the wall. The crinkly paper flared and blazed. Taking the envelope from her bag, she held the corner to the blazing rose, and finally, when the flames threatened to bum her fingers, she dropped what remained of it into the brass ashtray. She added the wire stem of the spent rose to the ashtray and withdrew a second, which she now lit. 'Here, give me that photo of your daddy.' She held her hand out and Jamal Vindoo hastily withdrew the photograph from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. Mama Tequila touched it to the burning rose and waited until it was well alight before she added it to the ashtray. With a melodramatic sigh, she said, 'There you are, finish and klaar! No more bad luck for someone who is nearly, almost, but now definitely going to be a member of the Indian Academy of South Africa!'
Jamal Vindoo rose from his chair and extended his hand. 'Mama Tequila, I have acted in a churlish and reprehensible manner, I apologise.'
Mama Tequila grinned and before shaking his hand she placed the second spent rose into the ashtray. 'First apologise for the dirty language, jong! What means churlish and reprehensible, also, I know what means eminence, but what means eminence grease?'
Jamal laughed, embarrassed. 'It means a person of great respect who has grey hair.'
'Ja that is a good way to think of your daddy,' Mama Tequila said, gathering up her cigarette case and Zippo and moving towards the door. 'Thank you, Jamal, it was a pleasure to do business with you, you hear?'
Mama Tequila and Juicey Fruit Mambo returned to Bluey Jay to find that Or Louis had just arrived and was attending to Tandia. He had given her a local anaesthetic and was making a proctoscopic examination. The area was badly swollen and while the muscle hadn't been tom she required quite a bit of sewing up. The effects of the barbiturate had largely worn off and Tandia was awake and in a lot of pain when he arrived. The needle he used for the anaesthetic needed to be inserted in several places and Tandia, biting into the soft part of her thumb, drew blood trying to refrain from screaming. Now, as he stitched her, Or Louis said, 'Tandia, you're going to be extremely sore for the next couple of weeks and must go on a diet of soft food only. I will treat the infection with sulphur drugs and you must rest for at least a week. You can't go to school until you can sit down again.'
Tears ran down Tandia's cheeks as she spoke. 'When will that be, Or Louis?'
Or Louis stroked her brow. 'No use going for a couple of weeks, I'd say.' He touched the cheekbone just below her left eye. 'Anyway, my girl, you're going to have a doosey of a black eye, you don't want to go to school wearing a shiner like this, do you?'
'We're doing our matriculation trials, I can't miss them!' Tandia's consternation was obvious.
'Look, I'll come every day and help you with your Latin and science. I think I'm still good for those. Maybe maths also. The rest is just silly stuff you can study on your own.'
Or Louis withdrew two small bottles. He held up the first.
'These, they're called Amatyl, you take one at night before you go to sleep for the next week.' He held up the second bottle. 'These are painkillers, you take two every four hours.' He was about to put the pills on the table beside her when Juicey Fruit Mambo's hand appeared and took the bottles from him.
Dr Louis turned in surprise. He had been aware that Mama Tequila had entered the room while he had been examining Tandia but he hadn't seen the black man enter and stand quietly beside the window directly behind him. Juicey Fruit
Mambo sensed what Dr Louis was thinking. 'I been nurse aide one time, I will look after Missy Tandy, doctor.' He grinned. 'I hear also for de food, only soft, very soft. I will make for her.'
Dr Louis turned back to Mama Tequila. 'I will come every day for the next week or so.' He saw Mama Tequila's expression and put his hand up. 'Don't worry, no fee. You pay for the barbarian in hospital, I'll take care of Tandia.' He placed his hand on Tandia's shoulder. 'It's going to be a bit painful when the anaesthetic wears off but Juicey Fruit Mambo will give you a pill. You've had a hard time, but you're going to be all right. I'll come and see you tomorrow. Goodbye, Tandia.' He rose and gathered his stethoscope and other belongings from the bed and placed them in his bag.
'Is he, you know, is he going to die, Doctor?' Tandia asked fearfully.
Dr Louis laughed. 'No fear! But he's going to be a very sick policeman for a while.'
'I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! I tried to do what Mama Tequila said. I don't know how it happened. Will they throw me in jail?' she sobbed.
Dr Louis took Tandia into his arms. 'Sssh! Tandia, take it easy, hey? Nothing is going to happen to you. You go to sleep now. In the morning it will be all right, you'll see.' He lowered Tandia onto the bed and pulled the eiderdown over her. 'You poor little bugger,' he said softly as he rose and moved to the door.
'Thank you, doctor, thank you for coming to see me.' Dr Louis stood at the door. 'You couldn't do me a favour could you, Tandia?' He didn't wait for her to reply. 'You couldn't get a first-class matric and then study law and then take on the barbarians in Pretoria and beat the bastards hollow, could you?'
Tandia nodded through her tears. 'Ja, doctor, I promise,' she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Or Louis waited for Mama Tequila to pass through the door before he shut it quietly behind him, leaving Juicey Fruit Mambo with Tandia.
'Is she going to be truly orright, doctor?' Mama Tequila asked as they walked down the yellowwood corridor.
'Ja, physically, yes, the revolver did surprisingly little damage. It is more the shock than the physical aspect which concerns me. The body can heal but the mind takes a lot longer. That's why I will come every day for the next week. She will be very depressed. It is important to keep her mind on other things.'
Mama Tequila felt "reassured by his words. Mental anxiety was the prostitute's lot in life. You learned to cope, to bury the hurt and the fear so deep that you sometimes found it difficult to find. It was better to be hard. It was best to get that over with when you were young.
At the top of the stairs they found Jasmine waiting. 'How is she, doctor?' she asked shyly. Jasmine was a Cape Malay and a favourite among the girls, quiet as a mouse.
'You can go in, sit with her if you like. She's a bit upset now, but she's going to be all right,' Dr Louis said.
Mama Tequila glanced at her watch. The little prostitute reacted immediately. 'Sarah said it was okay, Mama Tequila? We only got five clients, she said I could come?'
'Ja, okay, but not too long, you hear.' She looked at her watch again. 'It could get busy before midnight. Juicey Fruit Mambo is also with Tandia. Tell him he must go and help Sarah in the bar.'
'Yes, Mama T. Goodnight, doctor,' Jasmine said, hurrying away.
Jasmine opened the door to Tandia's room quietly. Tandia was lying on her side with her back to the door and Juicey Fruit Mambo stood to attention at the foot of her bed. The huge black man held his hands clasped in front of him and slow tears rolled down his cheeks. There was absolute silence in the room and he seemed not to notice Jasmine's entrance until she walked over to him and took his arm.
Standing on tiptoe, she whispered Mama Tequila's instructions. Juicey Fruit Mambo nodded and walked from the room, making no attempt to stem his tears.
Jasmine let herself down carefully onto the bed and placed her hand on Tandia's shoulder. After a while she began to hum an old slave lullaby her grandmother had sung to her as a child. The words finally broke free from the hum, sad and sweet and low and comforting…
Slaap Piccaninny
Die vee's in die kraal
Almal my skapies
en bokkies…
More vroeg kry jy
van soet pap en maal
en'n paar spier-wit sokkies…
Doo Doo…!
Doo Doo…!
Although it was only a song about a small herd boy who, having put the sheep and goats away for the night, could dream of a breakfast of sweet porridge and a pair of snowy white socks, it carried with it a great yearning for freedom and a cry for the beloved country. A silly little lullaby that contained all the love of the coloured people for their land and their place in it. A song of the twilight people, the words washed in the tears of the forgotten tribe.
Geldenhuis stirred. Even before he sensed the pain in his groin he felt the rawness in his throat and then, as though it was moving up slowly from somewhere deep inside of him, the pain arrived. It pushed remorselessly to the forefront of his consciousness until he could feel the sweat of it break out on his forehead and the sharp singing of it in his head as the pain buzzed him, roaring through his body. A glass of water was held to his mouth and he gulped at it greedily. 'Not too much, you'll vomit.' The glass was pulled away and the cool water down his throat seemed to evaporate in seconds as the furnace of pain burned through every nerve and muscle and sinew in his body. He thought he could hear himself crying, but he wasn't sure. Maybe it was someone else, someone in another room. The pain was beyond crying. Crying wouldn't help it. It was beyond the simple business of anguish or the false hope of a scream. It ate at him, it had huge jaws which tore at his flesh, like a pack of hyenas tearing at a carcass in the dark. A dark night. No moon. Just the tearing of flesh and the crunching of bones somewhere out there in the darkness. He felt a stab of cold on his arm, a small square of ice that burned, not like the other, but a pain no less, then a stab, everything exaggerated, everything bigger than him, bigger than he could possibly bear. A mountain of pain sat between his legs; then the relief as the morphine struck his brain and took hold of his body and blanketed down his pain, patting it into place, leaving him gasping with sweat-soaked relief. 'The kaffir! The fokking kaffir with the gold teeth! I'll kill the black bastard!' These were the first words that came from his mouth. Then he lay still for a long time, panting, his chest heaving. Outside, in the tropical garden, the birds filled the air with morning sound.
'Water, someone give me some water,' Geldenhuis croaked. The nurse had left with the hypodermic needle in a small, kidney-shaped metal dish covered with a white napkin. Mama Tequila rose from her chair and held the glass to his lips. Geldenhuis drank deeply and she took a chance and let him drink the glass down. This seemed to make him feel a little better and he opened his eyes. At first they remained blank, then the sense appeared in them, like a pebble plopped into still water. 'Mama Tequila? Where am I?'
'Lie still, you a very sick person, Detective Sergeant.' Geldenhuis tried to move his head but the pain cut through the effects of the morphine. He stared helplessly at Mama Tequila.
'What happened? Where is this place?' He seemed overcome by the effort to talk and closed his eyes again.
'You had a bad accident, Detective Sergeant. Listen very carefully, don't say nothing, you hear? Jus' listen. You were going to see a farmer by the name of Van Jaarsveld, remember? He lives about two miles before Bluey Jay.' After the long wait for him to regain consciousness, when she had rehearsed the story a hundred times, Mama Tequila was now only too anxious to get the story out. 'His wife, she phoned you, her husband been having it off with the kaffir girl servant.' Mama Tequila dug into her handbag and produced a note. 'I wrote it all down here, everything, just like it happened.' She held it open in front of Geldenhuis. 'Open your eyes, man, you got to read it!'
Geldenhuis hadn't indicated that he'd heard a word but now he opened his eyes and started to read th
e note, reading a few lines then closing his eyes and then having another go, until he nodded his head imperceptibly. 'Read it again, sergeant! It very important. You have to tell this to the police when they come!'
'More water!' Geldenhuis croaked. Mama Tequila poured a fresh glass from the water jug beside his bed and again he drank the whole glass down. His eyes were bright, almost as though he was in a fever. 'You lying, you hear, I remember everything, now! You fokked, you hear? You finish and klaar!' The anger showed clearly in the policeman's face as his mind started to rebuild the incident at Bluey Jay.
'Please, Detective Sergeant, I beg you!' Mama Tequila held the piece of paper in front of him again. 'Read it, this is what happened, I'm telling you, it's the only way! I'm begging you, on my bended knees, Detective Sergeant Geldenhuis!'
Geldenhuis closed his eyes when Mama Tequila placed the note in front of him. Now he opened them again. 'I swear it, I'm going to kill you and that black bitch who bit me…and the kaffir! The kaffir with the gold teeth! You all dead, you all fokking dead kaffirs, you hear!' He closed his eyes again and lay still, panting from the effort of his outburst.
'Open you eyes, Detective Sergeant Geldenhuis,' Mama Tequila said softly. Geldenhuis opened his eyes and the shock of what he saw pulled his body rigid. The pain cut through the effects of the morphine and he nearly passed out. Mama Tequila held a ten-by-eight print of him standing behind Tandia, the snout of his police revolver pushed deeply into her while his left hand held his erection. In the photograph he was grinning, and every detail, the blood running down the inside of Tandia's thigh, even the chamber of the revolver showed clearly in the picture. Geldenhuis closed his eyes and two large tears ran down his cheeks.
'Okay! Now fok off you black bitch!'
'No, sergeant, not before you read the note one more time!' Mama Tequila held it open again in front of him. Then, when he'd nodded, she folded it and put it into her handbag. 'I will pay for you while you here. You got a broken pelvis also, that what Or Louis Rabin going to say,' she pointed to the sheet covering his waist, 'to explain what happened down there. You can't be moved, you hear? Not for a long time. The doctor, he will see the police when they come. You can't have no visitors today, you too sick.' The big woman rose stiffly from the chair beside him and gave a big sigh as she moved from the room. She wasn't stupid and she knew enough about men like Geldenhuis to know that the nightmare had only just begun.
Tandia Page 16