must go to university and study to be a doctor.”
The old man nodded and took another bite of his pap .
“Being a doctor is noble,” the old man said. “It is always good to give back to your community by helping people. That’s what I do. I keep the luck of the world in balance.”
“I want to do that,” Jacob said. “And I want to earn lots of money so that I can have a big house like this one.”
“Doctors make a lot of money,” Thandeka said.
“But you have to study for so long to be a doctor,” Jacob said. “If I’m good, I can be a sangoma in a year. Will you teach me, Tata?”
The old man’s heart swelled with pride. A lump stuck in his throat and he drank cold Coke from the glass in front of him to clear it.
“I would be honored to teach you, my child.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“They began hitting me, pulling me and I started screaming for help, but nobody showed up. They cut me in the head with a knife and I passed out. They took my pants off. They tied my hands and legs, and put mud in my nostrils and mouth. They cut my genitals and ran away. When I woke up, a lot of blood was coming out of my head and nobody was coming to help me. So I stayed there for two days and then I crawled to the road.”
- Testimony of survivor, Mozambique, 2009
#
The orange disk of the sun choked behind a veil of smog on the horizon by the time detectives Nyala and Brits arrived in the veld. Three agonizing hours had passed since I’d phoned them. I’d watched Koos lead his dogs through the veld , moving back and forth through the long grass. They didn’t find any other clues about what happened to Lindsey. He’d come up to me with a sad smile and reassuring words, and then gone home.
Shortly after Koos left, Johan said he needed a drink. He said he’d be back with something for me too, but I hadn’t seen him in almost two hours.
Two hours alone in a field of dry grass, with nothing but the birds and insects for company. And the evidence of my daughter’s disappearance at my feet.
My sleeves were soggy with tears and snot. Dust and diesel fumes clogged my sinuses and squeezed my brain. A little pile of stompies lay at my feet; a cairn marking the spot where my daughter’s trail went cold.
When Nyala and Brits showed up, I’d bitten all my nails as far down as I could, and I’d smoked an entire box of cigarettes. I narrowed my eyes at Nyala when he made his way through the bush to my side. My accusation was clear.
“We got here as soon as we could,” Detective Nyala said, his hands raised at his sides as if he was surrendering.
“Three hours is soon for the SAPS then is it?”
“It is when you have a hundred and fifteen other missing persons’ cases open at the same time,” Nyala said.
“We had four other cases to attend to before yours.” Detective Brits took a pack of smokes out of his jacket pocket, the box as rumpled as his jacket, and shoved a cigarette between his lips.
The detectives shared a look, one of simultaneous exhaustion and despair.
“So, what have you got for us?” Brits lit the cigarette and took a long drag.
“It’s her school bag.” I showed them the dusty bag, still lying in the dirt with the books leaking from it like blood from a wound.
“You’re sure it’s hers?” Detective Nyala crouched next to the bag, careful to keep the bottoms of his crisp black trousers out of the dust.
“I’m certain,” I said. “I recognize the bunnies. They’re the same as the ones she painted on her nails.”
“That’s good,” Brits said. “It makes our job a little easier.”
Detective Brits pulled a small camera out of his pocket and started taking photos of the bag. He snapped away, the little flash strobing as he focused on one aspect of the scene or another. After a few minutes, he stood up and pocketed the camera.
“You done?” Detective Nyala asked.
“Yep, I’ve got it all,” Brits replied.
“How did you find this?”
The old man nodded and took another bite of his pap .
“Being a doctor is noble,” the old man said. “It is always good to give back to your community by helping people. That’s what I do. I keep the luck of the world in balance.”
“I want to do that,” Jacob said. “And I want to earn lots of money so that I can have a big house like this one.”
“Doctors make a lot of money,” Thandeka said.
“But you have to study for so long to be a doctor,” Jacob said. “If I’m good, I can be a sangoma in a year. Will you teach me, Tata?”
The old man’s heart swelled with pride. A lump stuck in his throat and he drank cold Coke from the glass in front of him to clear it.
“I would be honored to teach you, my child.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“They began hitting me, pulling me and I started screaming for help, but nobody showed up. They cut me in the head with a knife and I passed out. They took my pants off. They tied my hands and legs, and put mud in my nostrils and mouth. They cut my genitals and ran away. When I woke up, a lot of blood was coming out of my head and nobody was coming to help me. So I stayed there for two days and then I crawled to the road.”
- Testimony of survivor, Mozambique, 2009
#
The orange disk of the sun choked behind a veil of smog on the horizon by the time detectives Nyala and Brits arrived in the veld. Three agonizing hours had passed since I’d phoned them. I’d watched Koos lead his dogs through the veld , moving back and forth through the long grass. They didn’t find any other clues about what happened to Lindsey. He’d come up to me with a sad smile and reassuring words, and then gone home.
Shortly after Koos left, Johan said he needed a drink. He said he’d be back with something for me too, but I hadn’t seen him in almost two hours.
Two hours alone in a field of dry grass, with nothing but the birds and insects for company. And the evidence of my daughter’s disappearance at my feet.
My sleeves were soggy with tears and snot. Dust and diesel fumes clogged my sinuses and squeezed my brain. A little pile of stompies lay at my feet; a cairn marking the spot where my daughter’s trail went cold.
When Nyala and Brits showed up, I’d bitten all my nails as far down as I could, and I’d smoked an entire box of cigarettes. I narrowed my eyes at Nyala when he made his way through the bush to my side. My accusation was clear.
“We got here as soon as we could,” Detective Nyala said, his hands raised at his sides as if he was surrendering.
“Three hours is soon for the SAPS then is it?”
“It is when you have a hundred and fifteen other missing persons’ cases open at the same time,” Nyala said.
“We had four other cases to attend to before yours.” Detective Brits took a pack of smokes out of his jacket pocket, the box as rumpled as his jacket, and shoved a cigarette between his lips.
The detectives shared a look, one of simultaneous exhaustion and despair.
“So, what have you got for us?” Brits lit the cigarette and took a long drag.
“It’s her school bag.” I showed them the dusty bag, still lying in the dirt with the books leaking from it like blood from a wound.
“You’re sure it’s hers?” Detective Nyala crouched next to the bag, careful to keep the bottoms of his crisp black trousers out of the dust.
“I’m certain,” I said. “I recognize the bunnies. They’re the same as the ones she painted on her nails.”
“That’s good,” Brits said. “It makes our job a little easier.”
Detective Brits pulled a small camera out of his pocket and started taking photos of the bag. He snapped away, the little flash strobing as he focused on one aspect of the scene or another. After a few minutes, he stood up and pocketed the camera.
“You done?” Detective Nyala asked.
“Yep, I’ve got it all,” Brits replied.
“How did you find this?”
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