by Andre Brink
When she has finished, she motions towards the door. Leaving a thin trail of urine on the carpet, he starts moving. She opens the door for him, then hesitates and looks back: Should she put on her kappie again? No. Not this time. She will not make it easier for others, or for herself. She follows him outside. The corridor is empty. So is the staircase.
On the ground floor they encounter the first soldiers. There are shouts, loud vacant orders, confused outcries. Hanna presses the pistol into the man’s naked back. His backbone is studded like a belt. She can count his pointed vertebrae. He is blubbering more loudly now, but the sounds remain muffled in the cloth that gags him.
Many soldiers follow in their wake, but at a safe distance, overcome by the suddenness, the preposterousness, of this thing that is happening before their eyes.
As they move from the large sandstone building into the palm-lined street, downhill, towards the Kaiser Wilhelmstrasse, more and more people gather to watch them. The news must be spreading very rapidly. Kahapa would have believed it was done by the wind. Soon there is a crowd.
Once or twice Hauptmann Heinrich Bohlke stumbles and falls on his knees, but a quick stab with the barrel of the pistol sends him scrambling wretchedly to his feet again. On one occasion, when people threaten to come too close, Hanna fires a shot into the ground right next to him. The bystanders tumble out of the way, allowing her and her prisoner to pass unhindered among them. The shot also causes the man to lose control of his sphincter. Watery shit dribbles down the backs of his thin hairy legs. There are titters in the crowd. They are beginning to enjoy it.
It cannot of course go on for very long. It is hard to say whether it comes as a surprise when two pairs of arms in khaki uniform suddenly clutch her from behind.
This time, she thinks, she will not die. This time it may be worse.
Yet she does not offer any resistance; to those closest to her she may seem even, vaguely, content. Perhaps, if one may use the word, serene. At least, she thinks, there is nothing she regrets. No pain, no agony, no fear, no darkness, no extremity or outrage.
What she sees will not be the people in the crowd, but the grave face of a small girl on a distant beach. Knowing that this is why she is still here today, and will not kill. For the sake of that tiny image. And what she hears will not be the shouts and cries and curses or even the tumult of applause, but the very quiet sibilance within the confines of a shell. And if she smiles, if what she shows can be interpreted as a smile, it is because now, at last, Hanna X has reached the other side.
∨ The Other Side of Silence ∧
Glossary
Nama words are indicated with (N), Afrikaans words with (A)
aruma (N) edible thorny succulent
ati (N) reed flutes
baas (A) master
bossie (A) small shrub
geehlang (A) Cape cobra
gemsbok (A) large antelope, oryx
ghuia (N) stringed instrument
gli root (N) root used in a concoction that induces sleep and numbness
gompou (A) kori bustard
gurutsi-kubib (N) chameleon
Hadedah (A) kind of ibis
Heiseb (N) hunter-trickster god who is constantly reborn
hei nun (N) grey-feet, ghosts
kappie (A) large-hooded bonnet
kaross (N) blanket or cloak made of skins
Khanous (N) evening/morning star, Venus
khurob (N) tortoise
Khuseti (N) Pleiades
kierie (N) stick
koo (N) death
koppie (A) small rocky hill
kukemakranka (N) edible, bulbaceous plant with sweet-smelling orange pods
meerkat (A) ground squirrel
meid (A) black woman (pejorative)
nawas (N) rhinoceros
nerina (N) flower
norra (N) sweet edible root
sam-sam (N) peace
saies (N) dust devil (inhabited by evil spirit)
smous (A) itinerant trader
sobo khoin (N) people of the shadows, ghosts
stoep (A) veranda
t’kanna (N) eland
t’kaoop (N) buffalo
t’koi-t’koi (N) primitive drum
t’kwu (N) springbok
toiob (N) war
tsamma (N) wild melon
Tsaob (N) ‘Embers’, the Milky Way,
werf (A) (farm)yard
EOF