But Deliver Us from Evil Page 4

  Kamogelo did what she could for her mother – washed the wound, tried to feed her, give her water – but on the fifth day her mother died. She tried to find her people but got lost in the veld. A Boer farmer found her wandering in the bush, dazed, nearly dead from hunger and thirst, and brought her to the mission station.

  ‘I suppose here is as good as anywhere,’ she says.

  ‘No, there are many places better than this,’ says Beatrice. It’s hard to hear Kamogelo speak in that way. Beatrice does not have a nature that accepts defeat.

  Kamogelo laughs and shakes her head. She picks up her full bucket of water, puts it on her head and walks back to the garden.

  Beatrice catches up with her. ‘Why do you laugh?’

  ‘I think you’re mad. The world’s a scary, dangerous place, Beatrice. Until you’re strong enough to fight all of that, it’s better for you to stay here.’

  Beatrice feels Maangees hanging solidly against her chest. She knows she’s always strong enough to fight. Though Kamogelo and Beatrice are friends now, the only friend Beatrice has made at the mission, she has not shown her the knife. She doubts she ever will. It would put Kamogelo in danger to be keeping such a secret from Reverend Anderson. Kamogelo had been right when she spoke of Reverend Anderson’s brutality. Beatrice has had many chances to witness his beatings. She’ll not be the cause of Kamogelo’s being punished by that man.

  ‘I’ll stay here,’ Beatrice says. ‘For now.’

  They pour their buckets of water on the sun-wilted spinach. The Karoo heat is harsh on the delicate plants. They carry their empty buckets back to the well.

  ‘Call me Beaty – that’s what my father calls me.’

  ‘Will he come and save you from here some day?’ Kamogelo asks.

  ‘No. I’m going to go and save him. One of these days, I’m going to go and get him out from Robben Island where those soldiers took him.’

  Sometimes she feels bad that she had not fought hard enough against the soldiers; she feels guilty that her mother and father, the people she loves most, were taken away from her and she could do nothing to save them. She’ll never let that happen again to the people she loves.

  Kamogelo laughs, harder than before, her gap shining. Beatrice joins in. She’s not laughing at the wildness of her own idea as Kamogelo is; she’s laughing with happiness. She’s laughing because she’s happy to have someone like Kamogelo. Her pure goodness and gentle kindness are rare – Beatrice knows this at least. Rare things need to be respected and appreciated, cherished.

  Beatrice has already been at the mission for a year. She often wonders how her father is doing. She thinks about her proud stubborn mother in prison and wonders how she’s managing with rules not of her own making. Her mind pictures seem to be gone for good. The loss of that connection makes everything much worse for Beatrice. She fears most for her father. She knows he will not easily survive in a tiny room, within prescribed spaces both physical and mental. He’s built for freedom, just as she is.

  Beatrice lies in the half-dark room waiting for the bell to ring that tells them to get out of bed and wash for breakfast. There are bells for everything at this place. At first they drove her to anger with each ring, but now she tries not to hear them. She looks at Kamogelo, who rolls over in her direction and opens her eyes. She smiles at Beatrice.

  ‘Beaty, I had the best dream. You and I were gone from this place. We were far from here. In a beautiful place with mountains and a big lake, bigger than any lake ever. We were free to go everywhere we wanted to. And the people were all kind. It was so nice, I wanted to sleep forever.’

  ‘I wish I could have been in your mind when you were dreaming,’ Beatrice says. ‘I miss roaming freely. Seeing new things. Looking for new animals and birds. Swimming and climbing.’

  ‘Yes, it was nice in that place. We liked it so much, you and I.’

  Matron comes in just as the bell rings and the girls jump out of bed. While they’re still washing, Matron tells Kamogelo that Reverend Anderson wants to see her. She quickly finishes and follows Matron out of the hostel.

  ‘I’ll see you at breakfast, Beaty,’ she calls back.

  Beatrice watches her leave. She’s surprised when there’s a sudden red flash in her mind. Her mind pictures have returned and she wonders what it means, where the danger is that she’s sure it represents. She calls after Kamogelo, but the girl is gone. Something is not right and she moves cautiously as the day begins. Somewhere within its hours the reason for the red flash will be revealed.

  Kamogelo never arrives for breakfast. They go for their lessons and still Kamogelo has not returned. Instead of going for prayers, Beatrice sneaks back to the hostels – a serious offence, one she’ll get a beating for if she’s discovered. She doesn’t care. She finds Kamogelo lying on her bed facing the wall. Beatrice sits down next to her.

  ‘What happened?’ she asks. ‘I’ve been looking for you all morning.’

  Kamogelo keeps silent. She doesn’t turn towards Beatrice. Beatrice reaches forward and forces her over on to her back. She can see her friend is crying.

  ‘Did he beat you? What for? You didn’t do anything.’ Beatrice is getting angry. She can’t stand to see her Kamogelo like this.

  Kamogelo shakes her head. ‘No, Beaty, it was worse.’

  ‘What? What happened? Tell me. You must tell me immediately!’

  Kamogelo sits up and takes Beatrice in her arms. ‘It was awful. Please, let’s leave this place, Beaty. Let’s leave this place tonight.’

  Beatrice holds her. ‘Yes … we’ll leave this place. But first you must tell me what he did to you.’

  ‘He touched me first. I know he does that to some girls. I thought I would just stand very still until he stopped. I would stand still and he would stop eventually … but he didn’t. He made me take my underthings off. He … I … think he tore me apart. I think he broke me. It was so painful and awful. I think he ruined me forever.’

  Kamogelo is ten years old but she’s growing up. Her breasts are starting to develop and John Anderson must have noticed this.

  Kamogelo cries and cries and Beatrice holds her. She fetches water and washes Kamogelo, removes any bit of what John Anderson has left behind. No bit of the missionary will remain on her lovely Kamogelo.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll leave tonight,’ Beatrice says. ‘I’ve been watching carefully for a long time; I know what to do.’

  Beatrice and Kamogelo go out to the garden to water as they are meant to. They’re alone there – and they have tools. The well is the only place where they can be spotted by the supervisors who sit on the wide veranda of the office watching the children, making sure they’re doing their chores. Once the girls walk behind the buildings to the garden, no one can see them.

  They take turns walking to the well and back. Whoever is not at the well is at the fence digging, digging a hole underneath it, digging their escape route. When it’s big enough, they pull a branch in front of it. No one will find it for quite some time unless they’re looking for it specifically.

  That night, they wait for the hostels to become quiet, for the grounds to become still. When the night cools and the moon rises, when everyone is asleep, they make their move. Beatrice removes her uniform and puts on her own clothes, the ones she arrived in, still hidden deep in her trunk. She’s bigger now than when she arrived, but the clothes will suffice, if a bit tight. They will need to find clothes somewhere outside for Kamogelo. They need to be able to fit in, to not look like orphans from the mission. Beatrice has sewn together the hem of her other uniform and filled it like a sack with a leather bag of water and food she stole from the pantry.

  ‘Where’d you get all that?’ Kamogelo whispers, surprised.

  Beatrice only smiles and motions that they must go. At the fence, they push the branch aside and crawl under. They run off, far into the bush. When they get to a small wood, Beatrice stops.

  ‘You wait here. I forgot something.’

  ‘Forgot
something? Beaty, you can’t go back! They’ll catch you.’

  ‘Not me. I’m a shadow. How do you think I stole the food and the water bag? You wait here. Don’t move from this spot. I’ll be back.’

  Beatrice runs as fast as she can. Now that Kamogelo is away safely, she can finish the work she must complete. She slips back under the fence and heads for the mission house. She goes through the back door that’s always left open in case a child has a problem in the night. She feels her chest for her knife, for Maangees – that wild horse full of energy and spirit, the spirit of the moon-god. She needs that spirit for what she intends to do. She has sharpened the blade to a thin razor. Just a touch on her finger and a spot of blood appears. Maangees is ready and so is she.

  Kamogelo was harmed. Such crimes cannot go unpunished. Beatrice is small, but she is strong and quick. And, most importantly, she is fearless. That, and the anger that fills every bit of her since Kamogelo told her what happened, is enough to push her through. Enough to strengthen her beyond her size. This time she will protect the one she loves.

  She steps carefully in the house. In the bedroom, John Anderson sleeps on his back, snoring slightly. He’s alone; he has no woman. Beatrice suspects this is because of his vile evil ways. She takes Maangees out of its holder. She breathes in and holds her breath, only letting it out when she brings the edge of the knife down across the missionary’s throat, just deep enough to cut through the arteries. Blood spurts out at her: on her face, her dress, and her hands. John Anderson opens his eyes, shocked, his hands flailing in the air, inches from Beatrice’s face, but by the time he deciphers what has happened, it’s too late to shout. He’s already dead.

  Beatrice trembles where she stands. She had not expected to feel as she does. Killing a person is much more difficult than she had thought it would be. Watching the last bits of life fall away from John Anderson is more difficult than she had anticipated. At first she can’t move. The metallic smell of blood fills the air and she wants to cry out, but then she thinks of Kamogelo, of her waiting in the bush for Beatrice’s return. She must be courageous. There’s no other option. This is nothing. A job that had to be finished and now it has been. John Anderson brought this on himself. A just punishment for his crime.

  Beatrice wipes the knife off on the blanket and carefully puts it back in its holder. She slips the holder back under her dress and then checks the drawers for anything they might need. She finds a wallet with money and a cloth bag tucked away at the back of the bottom drawer of the dresser containing six gold sovereigns. She takes it all, pushing it deep into her pockets. She grabs a shirt and some trousers, clothes to be adjusted for Kamogelo. Then she leaves the room and heads back to the wood.

  She runs through the bush with the blood of the missionary drying on her skin, flaking off against the leaves and branches as she goes. Leaving a trail of her crime that no one will find except the hyena and the leopard, looking for a meal that they’ll not eat.

  Chapter Six

  Nthebolang and her mother walk for months. For some time they sleep in a cave, but usually they sleep in the open, under a tree, a small fire their only protection. More than once Nthebolang spotted eyes of wild animals just outside of the protective ring of light around them. Mma Nthebolang avoids settlements. She cannot be sure how far their story has travelled. A witch entering a village can create chaos and fear, even building to murderous rage.

  They eat what can be found. Moretlwa berries or wild pumpkins. They once came upon a just-dead goat, emaciated and likely lost from the herd, died of thirst. Nthebolang never complains of the ache in her stomach. She will not add more burdens to her mother’s already too heavy load.

  It’s nearing winter when they enter Ntsweng from the east. Nthebolang is surprised that her mother has taken them there. The day before had been the fifth with no food, and something in her mother’s eyes changed. When they woke from their exhausted sleep under the edge of a rock overhang, Mma Nthebolang had turned in a decided way towards the west and they began walking. For the first time, she seemed to be walking towards something.

  A woman coming in from the ploughing lands finds them on the path and takes them to the kgotla. There they find Kgosi Sechele, a tall man, old but strong. Imposing. He speaks in a deep, commanding voice and at first Nthebolang is afraid. But he gives them water and food. He smiles at her. He asks Mma Nthebolang many questions, which she answers truthfully despite the difficulty. If she is going to live here, she does not want to have to remember lies – best stick to the truth and let their destiny lead wherever it must.

  ‘I am a Christian and do not believe in such things as witchcraft,’ Kgosi Sechele says. ‘You have been treated unfairly, ignorance having taken your husband’s life. I’m sorry for these things. For now, you can stay in my compound – I think it’s safer. For, though I do not believe in witchcraft, I cannot say the same for the people of Ntsweng. They would hesitate to harm you in my vicinity, for they know the punishment I would give them would be harsh, but out of my view, out of my hearing, I cannot protect you.’

  ‘Ee, Kgosi, you are a kind man,’ Mma Nthebolang says.

  ‘You will stay here. I have a hut that’s empty since my daughter was married. You can stay there. Then we will see.’

  As their life becomes one lived among strangers, in this village for the Bakwena royals, in the compound of the king himself, Mma Nthebolang’s strength, which she held on to throughout their journey, falters. Kindness gives space for weakness. What has been threatening, floods over her and she is lost in it. She spends most of her time in the hut, lying on her mat on the floor. Nthebolang is cared for by the women of the compound. She is taken to the school run by the king’s daughter. It becomes known that her mother is an invalid. Years pass in this way.

  No one speaks of witches to Nthebolang, but she has no friends outside the compound. She accepts that’s the life she has. Her father is dead, her mother is lost, and she is a pariah and always will be. What can be tolerated, Nthebolang finds, is more than one imagines.

  Through all of this she keeps her one mission a secret: she will find justice for her father. This gives her amazing strength. Wrongs must be righted. The time will come and she will be ready.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘What happened to you?’ Kamogelo asks. ‘Did he catch you? Did he hurt you? Why are you covered in blood?’

  Kamogelo has waited in the bush as she was told. She grabs the smaller girl’s body and turns her around, searching for the wound that has resulted in the blood on her dress. She can find nothing.

  ‘No,’ Beatrice says calmly, ‘he didn’t hurt me.’

  She has lost her fear along the way back to Kamogelo. As she moved through the bush, she told herself over and over that she had killed an animal, nothing more. An animal that needed to be put down. By the time she saw Kamogelo waiting patiently, she was no longer affected by what had happened. She had sorted her mind and seen things the way she must.

  ‘Then what?’ Kamogelo asks. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I killed him.’

  Beatrice starts walking. She rubs her mind free of the images that try to form. She must forget it all. It’s not important. He hurt Kamogelo. Did he think he could go on as if nothing had happened? Of course he could not.

  ‘We need to get going,’ Beatrice says.

  Kamogelo runs after her. ‘You killed John Anderson?’

  Beatrice keeps walking. ‘Yes. He needed to be stopped. He needed his punishment. It was only justice. Justice is very important or the world makes no sense.’

  ‘They’ll come after us.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  Beatrice has thought about this already. They won’t think that two girls, two useless orphans, could do such a thing. They’ll make up a big story about some thief who broke in and killed John Anderson, stole his money, and stole two girls – one of them white. It will be a big story, a big exciting story to tell at night around the fire. A story used to scare other gi
rls to keep them needy and weak as such people like them to be.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. Now we need to walk. The ocean is far.’

  ‘The ocean?’

  ‘Yes, we need to find your dream.’

  In the morning, Beatrice stops at a river to wash her dress, and that’s when Kamogelo sees the knife for the first time.

  ‘Is that what you used to kill him?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You should have thrown it away.’

  ‘Thrown away Maangees? It was given to me by my father.’

  ‘You’ve had that knife all this time?’ Kamogelo asks in disbelief.

  ‘Yes, and it will keep us safe just as my father would have wanted it to.’

  ‘And you never told me.’

  ‘Kamogelo, don’t be upset,’ Beatrice says, sitting down next to her. ‘I didn’t tell you to protect you. I didn’t mean to keep secrets from you. We shouldn’t, you and I, keep secrets. We’re sisters; we’re best friends. From now on, no secrets – agreed?’

  Kamogelo smiles so her gap shows the way Beatrice likes, the way that shows she’s truly happy. ‘Yes, Beaty, no secrets. I promise.’

  Beatrice rubs at a particularly stubborn spot of blood on her cotton dress.

  ‘I’m glad you did it,’ Kamogelo says.

  ‘You were not the first girl he harmed,’ Beatrice says. ‘You would not have been the last. When animals go wrong, they must be killed.’

  Kamogelo thinks about this for a bit. ‘But that’s not why you did it. You did it because he hurt me.’

  Beatrice looks at her. ‘Yes, you’re right.’

  ‘It’s a bit like a gift.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Beatrice wonders about that.

  ‘I know it’s wrong, but it makes me feel better that he’s dead, and that you killed him. God might kill me for thinking that, but I’m thinking it anyway.’