When Time Fails
Page 17
‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, were indeed most surprised when Mr Strydom made contact with them again so many, many years after their last transaction,’ Mr Naidoo said. ‘Indeed, it was fortuitous, most fortuitous that my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, were even in Mamelodi when Mr Strydom arrived, out of the blue, wanting to buy another AK47.’
Afrikaner Ally shrieked, Stefan Smit shouted, Tutu-Two barked at them to keep quiet, but Mr Naidoo just carried on without missing a beat. ‘This time, because the targets were proper boers on a proper farm, and because Mr Strydom said they kept many weapons which my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, could ... um... liberate for APLA, they agreed to travel to Steynspruit on the night in question to meet Mr Strydom and collect the weapons that Mr Strydom had told them were stored in the farmhouse. My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, made arrangements to take these weapons across the border into Lesotho where they would hand them over to the APLA command there. But Mr Strydom had deceived them because there were no weapons to be found. Only a shotgun and two hand guns and very little ammunition. But I am getting ahead of myself, my most sincere apologies.’
‘Well, that was true,’ Annamari thought. Her parents had never kept much in the way of firepower on the farm at all. Her father had always said it would only attract unwanted attention. In fact, he had ensured that word was spread throughout the district that Steynspruit only had sufficient weapons for self-defence. Well, he had been wrong about that.
‘All went according to plan,’ Mr Naidoo continued. ‘When my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, arrived at Steynspruit on the night of 15 June, 1989, everything had been prepared. Mr Strydom had cut a hole in the security fence and my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, were able to gain access to the farm. Mr Strydom had also disabled the radio and alarm system; and he had silenced the dogs.’
Annamari heaved. So it had been Stefan Smit who had poisoned the dogs; Stefan Smit who had slit Kaptein’s throat. Thys put his arm around her but she pulled herself upright and spat spears of loathing at the filthy piece of cowardly shit cowering behind his tarty lawyer’s tight skirt. Stefan looked back and his thin lips twisted into a sly grin that spliced his skeletal features, revealing yellowed, broken teeth.
But Afrikaner Ally was up on her high heels once again, squealing that her client had not touched the dogs – that he had no idea what had happened to the dogs until they had been found by the police. ‘He was heartbroken,’ Afrikaner Ally insisted. ‘He loved those dogs.’
‘Like hell he loved them,’ Annamari hissed. ‘He was always kicking them when Ma and Pa weren’t looking. I know. Christo told me.’
Thys patted her hand but she snatched it away and glared at Stefan Smit who winked at her and ran his tongue over his pale bottom lip. Annamari clamped her hand over her mouth and hurtled out her chair, out the door, and across the foyer to the Ladies. Fortunately, the toilet cubicle was unoccupied.
Thys was waiting anxiously for her when she emerged, patting her hands on her skirt.
‘Are you okay, liefie? You look very pale.’
She nodded, mortified that she had not been able to control herself in front of that monster. She hoped Beauty would never find out how weak she had been.
‘The Chairman wants to know if you are able to carry on – or whether you would like an adjournment until tomorrow?’
‘I’m fine. Let’s get this nightmare over with,’ Annamari said and, wiping a drop of water from her chin, she strode back into the hall, praying she wouldn’t trip.
***
Annamari opened her eyes and turned her head towards her husband. His hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, but she could just make out his frown of concentration. This stretch of road could be treacherous at night. Large sections were pitted with an assortment of growing potholes. If they hit one and had to stop to change a tyre, it could be dangerous, especially as Thys had left his little revolver at home. He would not have been able to take it into the hearing. She had read in Die Volksblad just a few weeks ago about a family that had been left stranded for hours on the side of the road after stopping to change a tyre. The good Samaritans who had offered to help them had driven off with their vehicle as well as all their luggage, money and cell phones. Of course, Thys also had to avoid the cows that wandered around the vast seemingly uninhabited landscape and drifted across the unfenced road. Hit one, Annamari knew, and the uninhabited landscape would quickly transform into a seething mass of very angry locals.
‘Thys, do you think we will ever know what really happened? Or do you think they will just keep on lying and lying?’
‘Oh they will keep lying. Probably. Even if one of them does decide to tell the truth one day, how will we know it is the truth? But who knows? They say that the truth will always come out.’
Annamari hoped that wasn’t true. She wanted it to be true for the Steynspruit attack, of course. But sometimes, she knew, it was better if the truth stayed hidden. She prayed that one day Stefan Smit and the others would find it in themselves to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but. Of course she did. But she knew that would never happen. She knew only too well that sometimes a lie just got too big to be reduced to the truth.
‘In John 8:23 it says that the Truth will set you free,’ Thys said. ‘I doubt that was meant to be taken literally, but think about it, isn’t that what this whole amnesty thing is about? Tell the truth and be set free? However, I don’t think John or whoever wrote the bible had the Amnesty Commission in mind when he exhorted us to tell the truth.’ He barked a short laugh and Annamari giggled, although it really wasn’t funny but it was so like Thys to try and distract her.
He reached over and patted her knee. ‘Frankly, I think only the Lord will ever know the truth of what happened on Steynspruit that night. I’m so sorry, liefie.’
They drove on in silence. Annamari’s eyes closed and she was drifting between sleep and wakefulness when Thys spoke again, so quietly, she could barely hear. ‘Oh Lord, if you are listening, forgive us. Forgive us for our lies and deceptions. One day we will all have to face You and account for what we have done. Forgive us.’
Annamari crossed her fingers and turned her head away, blinking rapidly as tears threatened to spill down her burning face. It was so like Thys to pray for sinners. She wondered if Thys was praying for Stefan Smit. She hoped he was. She was sure he was. He could not possibly be praying for all liars. Like her. Could he?
Chapter 32
Two years later. 2002
Steyn’s blond head nearly twisted off his little shoulders as it whipped around following the scream of the jet engines. The scream transformed into an ear-splitting shriek and the Silver Falcons climbed higher and higher, trailing streams of red, yellow, green, blue, black and white – the colours of the new South African flag. Steyn turned to his mother, his blue eyes glowing.
‘I’m going to fly just like that, one day, Ma. You’ll see. I’m going to be a Silver Falcon pilot, you’ll see.’
Thys laughed and ruffled the child’s hair. ‘I thought you were going to fly single engine propeller planes. That’s what you said just now when they were doing all that acrobatic stuff.’
‘Ach Pa, don’t.’ The child shrugged off his father’s hand. ‘I’m going to be a pilot and I will fly everything. You’ll see. I will. I’m going to be a pilot. I’m going to be a Silver Falcon pilot, and an acrobatic pilot, and a Mirage jet pilot and a helicopter pilot and... and everything. You’ll see.’
Annamari laughed. It had been an inspired suggestion by Thys to make up for the disappointment around De Wet’s selection – or non-selection – by taking in the Air Show. Steyn had been beside himself with excitement from the time Thys had suggested it.
Annamari felt desperately sorry for De Wet. It really wasn’t fair. If it hadn’t been for the fact they’d already made the appointment to see Mr Venter at his office about the next step in the land claim process, they would have cancelled their trip to Bloemfontein. Thys
had said they should cancel, and reschedule with Mr Venter for another weekend, when De Wet would be playing. There was no rush to get the next set of papers ready for the land claim hearing. Mr Venter had said it could still take months, even years before the case actually came before the Land Claim Court which was swamped with claims and counter-claims. Most farmers, it seemed, were determined to fight the claims rather than simply agree to settle; or if they were prepared to hand over their farms to the claimants, they were objecting to the compensation they were being offered.
‘Frankly, Mr and Mrs van Zyl, land claims can take forever,’ Mr Venter had said when they handed over the case to him, the day he informed them that Stefan Smit aka Stephanus Strydom had been denied amnesty for the Steynspruit killings.
Mr Venter had travelled all the way to Steynspruit to bring them the news himself. He said it was the very least he could do. He also told them that Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane had also had their amnesty applications – both of them – dismissed. So Stefan Smit was going to sit for the full twenty-five years of his sentence; and more good news was that he was also being charged with the murders of Wilhelmina and Sara Botha, as well as the rape of Sara Botha; and Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane had turned State’s witness to try and avoid sitting in jail for even longer than the eighteen years they already had to serve for the Steynspruit murders.
‘From what I understand, the prosecution is trying to make the case that Wilhelmina Botha found out that her boyfriend, Stephanus Strydom, was messing with her daughter and was going to report him to the police. Apparently, the man had a thing for young girls. Turns out there were rape charges laid against him all over the country. You were fortunate you didn’t have a daughter when he worked for you,’ Mr Venter said.
Annamari blinked away the tears of shame and anger that threatened to overwhelm her.
‘Not that lucky, Mr Venter. That was the reason we fired him. He raped... he raped one of our workers, and her daughter – a beautiful little girl. But, well, you know how it was back then. The police wouldn’t investigate.’
Mr Venter nodded and the conversation turned to the land claim and their concerns that they had not heard anything since responding to the original letter. Mr Venter agreed to take up their case and said his first task would be to find out exactly who the claimants were.
‘That will help us to evaluate whether there is any merit in their claim,’ he said.
Then, about two weeks ago, he had called to say that he had some news for them and could they please come to his office the next time they were in Bloemfontein so they could discuss what strategy to adopt. As De Wet was likely to be playing in Free State’s home game at Goodyear Park against Gauteng the weekend after next, they had decided to travel through to Bloemfontein on the Friday, see Mr Venter, stay over at the Holiday Inn and go to the game on Saturday.
Annamari was overjoyed that she was finally going to see De Wet play for his province’s senior side. The tragic death of his cricket idol, Hansie Cronje in a light aircraft crash a few months before had shaken him badly. He’d contemplated giving up the game he adored even though everyone said he had enormous potential and it was only a matter of time before he got his senior provincial cap, and possibly even his Protea blazer.
‘It’s so unfair,’ he’d said when she phoned him to find out how he was taking the news. Annamari could hear the anguish and anger in his voice.
‘Hansie never had a chance to redeem himself. He apologised and apologised and now he’s dead. And I bet those bastards who crucified him will all go to his funeral and sing his praises and say what a tragedy it is that he died so young. The bloody hypocrites.’
Annamari privately agreed with him but she warned him to hold his tongue, especially in cricketing circles, especially if cricket was to be his career.
‘I don’t think I want that, not anymore. I don’t want to be like those people. I think I’m just going to chuck it in and become a farmer. I mean, that’s why I’m at university, isn’t it?’ he’d said.
***
Annamari and Thys had watched the memorial service on television. It was held at Hansie’s – and De Wet’s – old high school, Grey College. Annamari scanned the crowd shoehorned into the school hall but she couldn’t spot De Wet, although she was certain he was there. Nothing would have kept her son away. She wept when she saw the South African national cricket team in their official Protea blazers standing together to pay tribute to their former captain.
‘They found it in their hearts to forgive him – but why did they have to wait until he was dead? Why can’t people forgive others for their mistakes before it’s too late,’ she sniffed.
Apparently, that gesture by Hansie’s old teammates had renewed De Wet’s determination to also play for South Africa one day.
‘I’m going to do it for Hansie,’ he said.
‘You have to be selected first,’ Thys cautioned him. Annamari glared at her husband. There was no question in her mind that De Wet would be selected sooner, rather than later. He had his father’s sporting genes, even if he wasn’t – thankfully – using them on the rugby field.
A few months later, De Wet phoned with the news Annamari had been waiting for. He’d received his first call up to the Free State team; he was over the moon and dancing on cloud nine. So was she.
But the day before De Wet’s debut on the hallowed turf at St George’s Park, Steyn developed a raging fever so Thys had travelled to Bloemfontein alone. Arno came down from Johannesburg and together, they had watched proudly as De Wet held his own against a ferocious Western Province attack, scoring a credible 43 runs. He then went on to take two spectacular catches. Annamari had managed to see the second one on their recently installed DSTV SuperSport channel – and heard the commentators rave about young De Wet van Zyl’s amazing potential.
De Wet had played three more games for Free State since then. He was well on his way to becoming a regular fixture in the team. Everyone said so. But last Tuesday, when the Free State team to play Gauteng was announced, De Wet’s name was not there. No reasons provided. Die Volksblad newspaper speculated that it was because the Free State team was “too white”, and in terms of the South African Cricket Board’s new quota requirements, a few more “players of colour” had to be selected. So, Die Volksblad’s editorial concluded, 20-year-old De Wet van Zyl, one of the Free State’s most promising cricketing sons, was being sacrificed on the altar of affirmative action. Annamari was livid, but Thys said he was sure the selectors were just playing around with different combinations of players and that De Wet would soon be recalled.
***
Eight-year-old Steyn was thrilled to discover than instead of having to sit, bored out of his mind, watching a cricket match, they were going to the Air Show.
However De Wet – like Arno who was flying down to Bloemfontein for the weekend – wouldn’t join them.
‘Even if I’m not selected to play for Free State, I’m going to support my team. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what Hansie would have done,’ De Wet said when Annamari phoned him to tell him of their change of plans.
Annamari held back her retort – that Hansie had been fiercely opposed to racial quotas in cricket; that he’d had furious arguments with the cricket administrators about it; and that there was strong speculation that that was what had driven him to get involved in match fixing in the first place. Well, that’s what Die Volksblad had said. It also said several sources claimed Hansie had said that if the selectors and administrators cared more about the colour than the calibre of their players, and were more concerned with quotas than winning, then why should he care? And that, the newspaper said, was probably why he had cheated.
Thys said that was absolute nonsense. Thys said Hansie had cheated and lied because he was human, and people – even good people – can and do succumb to overwhelming temptation.
‘Don’t you agree, liefie?’
Annamari looked away and bit her lip.
Chapter 33
The air conditioner wasn’t working again, but it didn’t matter. Despite the midday sun blazing out of an azure sky, the atmosphere in the old Corolla was frosty, freezing, frigid. Annamari shivered and wrapped her arms around her body.
‘Pleeeeze can I open the window, Ma,’ Steyn whined from the back seat. ‘I’m dying of heat. Pretty please!’
‘Your mother said no. It’s too windy with the windows open. Drink your juice. We’ll be home soon,’ Thys said, throwing an angry glance at Annamari.
If I live that long, Annamari thought, feeling Beauty’s icy blue eyes firing daggers into the back of her neck. She had really messed everything up this time. But it had been such a shock seeing them walking in to the Spur Steak Ranch together last night. Okay, De Wet had been with them, but he might as well have been invisible.
Arno and Beauty had slipped in to the bunk seat next to Steyn, who was valiantly drawing Silver Falcons and a variety of aircraft with the wax crayons provided by their friendly waiter.
Arno beamed at her.
‘Surprise! Look who we found at the cricket,’ he said.
Thys eased out of his seat and went around the table to shake Arno’s hand and peck Beauty on the cheek. De Wet slid into the booth next to Annamari, and kissed her. She barely noticed him.
‘Isn’t it great that we’re all together again?’ De Wet said.
Steyn whooped his agreement. Arno touched Beauty’s hand.
‘When I heard Divvie was playing, I had to come,’ Beauty said. ‘I’m so sorry he didn’t, but at least I got an expert to give me a crash course in the fine art of cricket. It’s a really crazy game, I much prefer rugby but ...’
‘Me too,’ Steyn said. ‘Cricket is for sissies.’