Having repositioned his mic, I stepped back. ‘All done,’ I said. ‘Ready when you are, Will.’
‘I wanted …’ Will said when he reached his mark. ‘I was wanting …’
His jaw moved ever so slightly from side to side as he stared accusingly at me.
‘As you know,’ he said at last, ‘I’m from London.’ His voice faltered as he named the city. I’d zoomed out to include his audience in the frame, and especially his wife and my sister. ‘Amanda suggested we move to Namibia.’
He gave a relieved chuckle. ‘So where do I begin? Perhaps I should tell you how it began. Amanda and I were working in London when we met. Looking back on it now, I suppose I was a bit of a mess when we settled down together. Amanda, more than she realises, and with precious little help from me, did everything in her power to keep me sane. Unfortunately, the people I called friends back then weren’t happy when she moved in with me. I suppose I’d been bankrolling their party, so it should have come as no surprise that her presence posed a threat.’
Amanda’s face was expressionless. Unassailable.
‘I’d wait until she was asleep, and then I’d slip out of our flat to meet my friends at my dealer’s Docklands apartment. So this one evening everyone’s doing coke when I walk in, and of course I do a line. I’m thinking, “I’ll ring Amanda if this gets out of hand.” She’d made me promise that if I was ever tempted to do something stupid, I was to call her.
‘I do a second and think, “Good thing I know I can ring her.” I take a bump of K, and then another. I’m like, “I should probably ring her.” And by two or three o’clock that morning we’re all in the hot tub on the balcony even though it’s the middle of winter, and I’m in a really bad way because my friends’ faces are melting in front of me as if they’re made out of wax, and I hear myself say out loud, “I must call her.” A combination of Scotch and milk, cocaine and ketamine leads me to this realisation. So anyway, a few minutes later this guy in the tub jumps out and begins rushing about the flat stark bollock naked to search for an imaginary man. They guy’s wet footprints are in the bedrooms, in the cupboards and finally the kitchen where he takes a knife.
‘Amanda gets to me at 5 a.m. to find me with one leg dangling over the glass balustrade. So I must have called her. The one thing I did right that evening. Everyone’s laughing because half of me is hanging twenty-eight storeys off the ground, as I’m shifting my weight left and right … back and forth … left and right, while this nutter charges at me with his knife. Amanda shoves him to one side and grabs me. And I swear she catches me as I’m going over.
‘I have a clear memory of everything when I wake up the next day. I remember my first line of coke and not phoning her. My second line, and not calling. The K trickling down the back of my throat and the Salvador Dalí faces around me. She doesn’t need to tell me how she found me, legs out and arse in the air, riding half an inch of glass like it’s a mustang in a fucking rodeo, because I remember. But you know what’s worst of all? Come evening, I’m feeling a bit better, I’ve got my second wind, so I’m ready to meet my friends again. That’s what fucking terrified me. And what probably saved me, because by the end of that week we were in Namibia.’
Someone – a man – began speaking. It took me a moment to recognise the voice belonged to Sixten because he was crying. I moved closer to him to help my onboard mic pick up his audio.
‘I was saved,’ Sixten continued. ‘Namibia saved me too.’
He held Will’s gaze.
‘I was fourteen when I first tried killing myself. Then again a year later, and the last time on my eighteenth birthday. Jesus, I was fucked up. Of course there were other occasions when I came close, but those three were the most serious. I felt a bit more confident after each attempt, and on the third I swallowed a lot of meds. After the doctor pumped my stomach in the hospital he asked me what I thought I was doing. Until that man spoke to me, I was convinced there was nothing anyone could say to make me stop. But instead of trying to reason with me, the doctor kept asking me to imagine, for a moment, that I wasn’t the problem. That perhaps pills weren’t the only way of escaping my life, and that there might be a solution that didn’t involve putting myself under the ground. Maybe the solution was as simple as getting far away from the cause of my misery.
‘So I went home. I graduated from school, and I escaped to study marine biology at Stockholm University. I telephoned my mother once a month as if to say, “I’m still alive, you stupid bitch. In spite of all that you did to me, I’m still alive.” Every time we spoke this silent battle waged between us.
‘I’d made up my mind that I was going to visit her at the end of my first year at university to say goodbye. But what she didn’t tell me was that my stepfather had moved back in with her that winter. He was abusive, as he always was, and after a few months he beat her badly enough to put her in hospital. But it turns out she wasn’t lucky enough to meet a doctor like the one who spoke to me. Instead they only repaired her body and discharged her. Of course my stepfather swears he’ll never lay another hand on her, which she believes. She invites him back to start a new life together, and they celebrate. And after many, many hours of drinking, he kills her.’
Sixten looked at the group as if hoping to find someone. His cheeks were wet with tears, but no one moved. It was as if he’d spoken an incomprehensible language.
I whispered, ‘Go to him,’ but they all remained motionless. He needed comforting; no one acknowledged his distress.
‘We’re here for you,’ Amanda said at last. She stepped forward to hold him. ‘We love you, and we want you to know that we’re here for you. Trust us.’ Murmurs rose from the group, accompanying her words, as one by one they went to put their arms around Amanda and Sixten. I attempted to get a better shot of Sixten’s face but it was lost in the swaying mass.
‘You came here for a reason,’ Amanda said.
We all followed Will outside. I ran a few paces up the hill to capture the whole group as best I could.
‘Is this any good?’ Will called to me.
‘Perfect,’ I said.
It was as if his and Sixten’s revelations had calmed him because he was chatting playfully. My sister was gazing at Will like a mother does a sick child: a mixture of pity and concern. I’d never seen her look at Shane this way, and I don’t think Shane would have expected her to.
‘Ready for more?’ Will asked eagerly.
‘Go for it,’ I said. ‘You’ve got a few minutes before the cloud drops.’
He glanced up as if just noticing the low fog about to cover Kolmanskop. The sun was a white disc. It looked like the moon was on fire. ‘Imagine we’re in Harmony now,’ he told my camera. ‘Over here, where we’re standing, is our dining room. One day that’ – he pointed – ‘up there, will be the library, the study, an observatory for secular reflection, the yoga studios, and beyond them a central courtyard for meditation. Behind me is the exercise ground. And then our stables and warehouses and store rooms and agricultural facilities.’
He took a step to his left and lifted both arms into the slow descending mist. His fingers were no longer visible. ‘After we break ground on our new wing there’ll be space for new members to live, receive treatment and work.’ He stepped towards me. ‘A therapy room here.’ Closer. ‘A carpentry workshop here.’ Closer. ‘Metalwork. Think of an orchestra playing the best possible symphony. We’ll build a meeting hall where visitors can learn about life in Harmony, and a restaurant where they’ll enjoy our homegrown produce.’
The goateed Zimbabwean, who’d sat next to me in the kombi, interrupted: ‘When do we get all of this?’
‘As soon as you build it, Meshack,’ Amanda said.
‘Right now we’re limited to our existing accommodation,’ Will admitted. ‘And I’m sorry that it’s not up to snuff, but we’ll move into the new wing when it’s completed.’
‘What about the volunteers?’ Meshack said. His thumb and forefinger pinched the hair on
his chin.
‘Let’s accommodate Harmony’s core members first, and then we’ll build rooms for volunteers and patients along with a central mezzanine for children. Adults and couples will live on the second floor of the restaurant wing in the communal rooms. But I’ve been speaking at length, and I’m tired. It’s been a long morning.’
‘Can I ask about families?’
‘Meshack, you have to remember that families and relationships are part of civilisation’s structures. Society’s repressive bonds. We need to think of ourselves as equals, free to love whomever we like. Family ties are obsolete. Only when we realise this will we freely express ourselves, unconstrained by other people’s expectations, and build intimate relationships free of entrapment. In Harmony all relationships, all adult relationships, will last for as long as the parties want.’ I zoomed in on Amanda’s face, which once again betrayed no emotion. As if she’d anticipated my intrusive lens.
A woman attempted to ask about voting, but Will cut her short: ‘We really must finish. I invite you to follow me back into the hall to meditate on everything you’ve heard.’
‘But not everyone in Harmony earns their place. You promised to address this today.’
‘In silence, please,’ Will said. ‘Silent meditation.’
My last shot was of the group disturbing the mist as they passed through Harmony’s imaginary walls to return to the casino. The fog settled in their absence and I was left alone with my sister.
‘I genuinely thought he wouldn’t go through with it,’ I confessed as I secured the lens cap to my camera.
‘Will gets nervous,’ she said. ‘This sort of thing exhausts him. What did you say to him in the middle of his lecture?’
‘I suggested he talk about himself.’
She nodded.
‘Do you think anyone understands his theories?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. I don’t really care. It makes him happy. I want to ask you a favour. It would mean a lot to me if you could get these clips ready for him as soon as possible.’
‘Of course,’ I said.
She thanked me. ‘He’s having a difficult time with some people in the group, and he wants to attract new members as soon as possible so that they can start treating patients.’
‘One down, two to go,’ I said. It took my sister a moment to realise I was referring to her film group.
‘I’m sorry I asked you to teach my children today,’ she said.
‘It’s fine. It’ll be fun.’
We agreed to meet in one of the houses up the hill, and she went to collect the kids.
Will’s disciples were coming out the casino – their meditation presumably over – so I began climbing the soft sand to get away from them. I had to be quick about finding a location for my class. In the mist behind me he was saying, ‘It’s taken a lot of study for me to understand that we will only succeed if we’re a unified family …’
I clambered into the first house I came to, hiding like a child in the camouflaging fog. I stopped to catch my breath, and realised that my shoes were almost level with the parlour’s dado rail because the desert sand half-filled the room.
I traversed the gentle incline to the back of the room, ducking to avoid the loose strips of plaster. The sand was trying hard to submerge this place, as it was all the others. One day it’d leave a few air pockets beneath the ceiling. There was barely enough space in here for me, let alone my sister’s students, so I scrambled into the kitchen and, with difficulty, crawled along a scullery dune out the back window, to find someplace bigger.
Ahead of me lay a grand double-storey house with exposed wooden joists; corrugated-iron sheets resting against its walls. As if the building was undergoing a century-long renovation.
Sand reached up to the parlour ceiling in each corner, transforming the room into a ten-sided space. It was adequate for my purposes, but I needed to check that the rest of the house was safe in case the squad went exploring.
I climbed over the fat dune almost barring my way to the passage, sliding down its flank to the bottom of the stairs. Over the years the south-westerly had peeled off the roof; above me rebar poked out the walls with nothing to support.
The upstairs floorboards were clean, as if newly laid, and strong enough to bear my weight. In the master bedroom a thin layer of rippled sand created a frozen pond that I dared not disturb.
I made myself comfortable on a parlour dune, the sand as fine as powder, with a black beetle for company. I waited for my sister. The insect had fallen into a furrow I’d inadvertently made with my shoe. The creature made slow progress over the now unsteady terrain. I offered it my index finger, and after a few failed attempts it crept itchily onto my skin. I lifted it out the miniature gorge, and eased it onto a patch of flat, undisturbed ground.
I was glad to have captured Will telling the group about London along with Sixten’s story, but I needed more from them. Although I’d made relatively good money working for Chesley so far, I was going to have to remind Will to pay me for today because I dreaded my financial pressure’s inevitable return.
I zoomed in on an irregular shape a few inches ahead of the beetle. The anomalous patch didn’t quite blend in with the soft sand: it resembled a piece of jigsaw puzzle.
Two faint voices grew steadily distinct outside.
‘Weren’t you happy with it?’ Amanda said. Or perhaps she’d said, ‘Are you happy with it?’
‘Pretty much what I was expecting, really,’ were the first of Will’s words I could latch onto.
‘You seem troubled.’
‘Do I?’
‘You look deflated.’
‘Am I? I wasn’t expecting Sixten to share about his past. Thank you for comforting him.’
I caught sight of them going in the direction of the old mine manager’s house.
‘Meshack’s questions …’ Will said with a sigh.
‘I was going to ask about that.’
‘I can’t blame them for wanting to live somewhere permanent. He means well. But must they keep asking when the next phase is going to be built when they’re the ones building it?’
‘He wants to please Daddy.’
‘Ha!’ It was the sound of recognition rather than of laughter. ‘I worry that we’ve become distracted by Harmony. That we’re sidetracked by what we want to build out there. Have you given any thought to what I said about the bay? I’m certain that if we move even deeper into the desert, we’ll be able to escape all of this superficial bullshit. I worry that we’re too close to Lüderitz.’
Amanda spoke: ‘Have you looked at the numbers I gave you?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Jesus Christ, Will. You promised you were going to transfer the money, and I’m still waiting. The bay isn’t our priority.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that selling felt so permanent. And after I’ve sent the money, there’s no going back.’
‘Isn’t this what you’ve wanted all along?’
‘Yes, of course it is. But it doesn’t mean it’s any easier.’
I was reaching for the beetle to help it onto a floorboard when a camouflaged trap-door gave a sudden flutter, disturbing the granules next to my shoe, and sprang open. A spider the size of my hand, a plump coral-splattered abdomen with black grasping legs, wrapped itself around the insect. The hatch pulled shut as a revolting shudder fell through me.
The teenagers were shy about following my instructions, not asking questions as they watched my fingers move about the camera. My plan was to encourage the kids to practise close-up shots and ways of positioning each other in front of the lens to demonstrate how a camera communicates information to the viewer.
They never looked directly at me, their eyes always on my hands, but one of them, a grave boy called Ben, was different. He paid close attention to my face. I interested him by turning off the camera’s red LEDs to record surreptitiously, but after half an hour or so I could see him growing bored, and I lost him.
&nb
sp; I hadn’t spent this much time in my sister’s company recently, and we were both enjoying ourselves. I’d been telling her about the trap-door spider when Will began raising his voice in the distance.
‘I got one hell of a shock when it sprang out,’ I said with a laugh. ‘Not good for my heart.’
‘Poor beetle,’ she said.
‘Yes, poor thing.’
Will’s words echoed in the mist: ‘I can’t do this any more.’
The kids turned to us.
I said, ‘Is hysteria necessary?’ which made the group giggle. ‘He and Amanda were chatting outside when I was waiting for you,’ I told my sister.
I resumed my lesson for all the kids apart from Ben. He sat on the porch while the others took turns with my camera. Lucia stuck her head outside every so often to check on the boy. He asked if he could collect desert roses – the sharp-wafered gypsum crystals – and she told him not to wander far. We heard him pacing back and forth outside.
‘I meant what I said earlier,’ she told me. ‘About you encouraging Will. Thank you.’
‘He’s going to have to tell them everything about his time in London.’
‘We all have our secrets.’
Ben came to show my sister all the stone posies he’d found before going to explore the house. I called to him when he was in the passage to say that he should look at the sandy pattern on the bedroom floor upstairs.
‘You’re abandoning me,’ Will interrupted. ‘You’re abandoning me when I need you the most.’
Amanda addressed him angrily: ‘I can’t do this any more. You don’t get to mess up Namibia as well. I care deeply for you, even though you obviously don’t feel the same about me. But this has got to stop. We’re not here to indulge your fantasies.’
‘Sounds serious,’ I said. ‘A bit like the spider and the beetle.’
‘They get like this, but everything settles down just as quickly. He says she’s a drama queen.’
At the Edge of the Desert Page 11