A Death in the Family (18 page)

He looked around the room. “At least Major Pule has his head screwed on straight. He knows how to handle men. He's fair but won't put up with any nonsense. We're just waiting for the station commander, who's gone to find the constables who survived the riot. Apparently, three constables were beaten to death, as were the chief and three of his elders, and four of the rioters suffered gunshot wounds. Fortunately, the chief's son was able to calm the mob, who then left the
kgotla
and went drinking. From what I hear, that's what they're still doing.” He nodded toward Major Pule. “The army got here very quickly and secured the scene. They're in the process of imposing a curfew. The injured men were all taken to the local clinic and treated. Then they were taken to the hospital in Mahalapye. Your friend MacGregor is going to have to arrange to get the bodies to Gabs for his autopsies.”

“I'm amazed at the reaction to the chief's turning down the mine's offer,” Kubu said. “There must have been some ringleaders urging the crowd on. We'll need to find out who they were.”

Mabaku nodded. “That may be difficult. Mobs have a mentality of their own. I think we'll find a great deal of denial when we talk to men who were at the
kgotla
.”

He indicated toward the door. “Here's the station commander. I've got to go.” He walked over to the commissioner, spoke to him, then clapped his hands. “Attention, please.”

Immediately, the hubbub subsided.

The commissioner quickly introduced everyone, giving their credentials. Then he continued, “The president has ordered me to get to the bottom of this disaster as quickly as possible. Director Mabaku of the CID will be in charge of the investigation. He will work hand in hand with Major Pule to ensure there isn't a repetition. I will ensure that they have the resources they need. The President expects—”

Before he could finish the sentence, there was a knock on the door, and a constable stuck his head in. “The new chief wants to speak to you, sir,” he said to the commissioner. “Shall I let him in?” The commissioner nodded.

A young man walked into the room, wearing an old brown jacket with a black armband. “Good evening,
borra
. My name is Julius Koma. My father was the chief here in Shoshong. He was killed at the
kgotla
today. I will be the new chief.”

*   *   *

THE COMMISSIONER, MABAKU
, and Kubu spent the next two hours interrogating the old chief's son. He told them of the schism that had developed in the community over the mine's offer. “Young men are desperate for work,” he said. “But I understand why the older people are cautious. They were lied to once before by the same mine.”

“But why did the
kgotla
get out of hand?” the commissioner asked. “What brought on the violence? What did it achieve?”

“I think it was years of frustration,” Julius replied. “The government isn't listening to the people. These men want to work, but nothing is being done to provide jobs.”

“There must've been a ringleader or several ringleaders,” Mabaku said. “Who were they? We need to know. We have to find those responsible.”

Julius shook his head. “It was like a landslide. Once it started, it just grew and grew. No one was leading it.”

“Didn't you try to stop the mob?” Mabaku continued.

“What could I do? Nothing could stop them! I could see the anger in their eyes. I grabbed my father and jumped off the back of the stage and tried to run.” He paused and took a deep breath. “He was an old man. He couldn't run very fast. They caught up to us very quickly.”

“Why didn't they kill you?” Kubu asked. “You were part of the village council.”

“I'm on their side. I wanted my father to accept the mine's offer. Everyone knows that!”

“When will the elders meet to appoint a new chief?”

“The elders will have to meet in the next few days,” Julius responded. “Shoshong is a strange place. There are actually three groups in the area, and the elders of all three groups decide on the new chief. The position of chief normally moves from one group to the next. But the other groups don't understand what the men need. If the new chief is appointed in the old way, we'll just have more trouble. So I'll persuade them to appoint me. Otherwise, there could be another riot.”

“What will the other groups say when they hear you've already taken your father's place?” This time it was the commissioner who asked the question.

“It's only until they elect someone. Somebody needs to be in charge until then, somebody who understands the situation, who knows the young men. Otherwise, more bad things will happen. When I go to them tomorrow to arrange the
kgotla
, I will sit with their elders and explain why I had to do what I did. They'll understand.”

The commissioner frowned. “I hope so. Tradition runs deep in places like Shoshong that have a long and prominent history. The elders may want to preserve that tradition and use the riot as the reason why.”

“I think the elders will support me,” Julius said. He stood up. “I have to go now. It's been a terrible day, and I need to go and comfort my mother.”

The commissioner looked at the other two, who both nodded, relieved that they might soon be in bed.

When Julius had left the room, the commissioner turned to his colleagues. “What do you think? Is he telling the truth?”

“About what?” Mabaku asked.

“That he needs to be chief if the unrest is to stop.”

Both Mabaku and Kubu shook their heads. “I don't know anything about this area,” Kubu said. “But what he claimed is easy to check out. Perhaps you can speak to the elders from the other villages tomorrow, Commissioner. They would respect a man of your position.”

“It seems very strange to me that people would riot like that without someone urging them on,” Mabaku said. “Were there any reports of strangers being at the
kgotla
? Could someone from the mine have stirred up trouble?” He looked at the other two. “And what's mined here anyway? I've never heard of a mine in this area.”

“I seem to remember that my history teacher said there had been mines here for hundreds of years, but what was being mined, I've no idea,” Kubu responded.

“I think I read that a uranium mine upgraded the
kgotla
last year, as a gesture of goodwill to the community.” The commissioner sounded skeptical. “Probably smoothing the way for the offer they made.”

“I need to get to bed,” Kubu said, “and it's quite a drive back to Mahalapye. I'll check all that out in the morning.”

The three men left the police station and headed for what they knew was going to be a short night's sleep. The press would have no mercy if they weren't on the job at dawn.

 

CHAPTER 33

As Kubu drove back to Shoshong early on Sunday morning, he tried to come to grips with what had happened the day before. The Batswana were known as peaceful people who respected traditions and believed in the wisdom of elders. They didn't settle their problems with violence and riots. Or so it was in the past. Now the youth were impatient for money and the things they expected for a good life—cars, smartphones, nice clothes, houses. They had lost patience. And why shouldn't they? Kubu thought. The diamond boom was over. The new generation had missed out. But to riot and kill weak old men and batter policemen to death? To him it was inconceivable, and he was going to find out who was responsible.

He was so focused on his thoughts that he almost missed the village of Tobela. The sign caught his eye as he was already driving past the entrance track. He braked and pulled over to the side of the road. He'd known that Tobela was somewhere along this road, but he'd missed it the night before in his rush to meet Mabaku, and by the time he drove back to Mahalapye, he was too tired to do more than watch for stray animals. But now that he was at the entrance, he wasn't sure if a detour into the village was a good idea. He wanted to get to work on the reasons why Shoshong had turned into a battlefield, and he knew that anything he did in Tobela would be frowned upon by Mabaku, but the lure of finding out who had visited his father proved too great. He should have carried on to Shoshong at once, but instead, he turned onto the dirt road that took him through a rusty gate into the village.

He bumped down what was really a donkey track until he reached what he guessed was the center of the village. People were already up and about, chatting in small groups. Some were dressed up for church—presumably in Shoshong—but others were in casual clothes. The mood was somber; only the children seemed happy, enjoying the weekend break from school.

“
Dumela
.” Kubu approached a group talking in the road. They returned his greeting, but instead of introductions and polite questions about himself and his relatives, they at once wanted to know who he was and whether he knew the details of what was happening in Shoshong.

“Yes, I am Assistant Superintendent Bengu of the Botswana CID in Gaborone. I'm here to help the local police find out what caused this disaster and who was responsible.” This wasn't the way Kubu had meant to introduce himself, but there was no option. Only one thing was of interest in Tobela on this Sunday.

“Aaii! So it is true then? Their chief is dead? Murdered? And all their elders?” It was an old woman who said this, shaking her head.

Kubu nodded. “There was some sort of riot at the
kgotla
yesterday. Some men attacked the chief when he told the gathering that he wasn't going to allow the mine to expand. Several people were killed, including the chief.”

A man with a sour face looked at Kubu. “Their chief cared nothing for what the people need. He was stuck in the past. I'm not surprised his people got tired of him.”

The woman sucked in her breath. “How can you say such a thing, Dithebe? And on the Sabbath. They did not depose him. They murdered him! Hacked him to pieces. It is shocking, and I cannot understand it.”

The rest of the group joined in, and Kubu was flooded with questions. They expected him to know all the answers, but at last they ran out of steam. The elderly lady said firmly, “Well, I am not going to the church today. I do not know if it is safe, and I do not know what to ask God. I do not know.” There was silence, and several people nodded agreement. Then she continued, “And you, Rra Detective, what are you doing here? As you see, no one here knows what happened yesterday in Shoshong.”

“But I didn't know that before I came here.” Kubu hesitated. His mission was hard to explain to these shocked people. “But I'm here for another reason too. My father's ancestors came from here, and I wonder if there's still family here. The name was Bengu.”

Everyone looked at the old lady, but she shook her head. “No, I don't remember that name. How long ago did they leave?”

“It was a very long time ago.”

“There is no one here with that name now.”

“I ask because a man came to visit my father in Mochudi. He said he was a relative and that he came from Tobela.”

“And what else did he say?”

“I don't know. But my father was murdered shortly afterward, and I'm trying to trace this man.”

“Aaii! Even the family of the police are not safe now! What is the world coming to?” Tears started to run down the woman's lined face, and Kubu was touched by them, whether they were for his father or in reaction to the dreadful events of the previous day.

A man turned to Kubu and said, “I'm sorry for your loss, rra, but we know nothing of this here.”

There was a murmur of agreement, and Dithebe spat on the ground, not at Kubu's feet, but the message was clear enough. Kubu realized that his timing couldn't have been worse. On any ordinary day, a visitor from Gaborone would have been a welcome event in Tobela, and people would have been interested in the historical family connections. But this was no ordinary day.

He thanked the group for their time and turned to walk back to his car. But Dithebe wanted the last word. “When you get to Shoshong, tell their new chief not to drive around in fancy cars while his people are hungry. Then maybe they will respect him.”

“Shut up!” the old lady told him. “You know nothing. He didn't have a fancy car. It was just an ordinary Toyota. You have a foul mouth. You should wash it out with soap!”

“Well, it was a fancy silver color. And with fancy wheels! That costs plenty of money.”

Kubu turned back. “The chief had a silver Toyota? He was here in Tobela?”

The old lady nodded. “Last month he came with his son and two of his elders to consult with our elders. And he even spoke at the
kgotla
here. He came in a silver car, but it was not a Merc or a BMW like all the big politicians.” She turned on the hapless Dithebe. “It was not fancy. But you speak ill of everyone. Even the dead, who cannot talk back.” The man turned away from her with a shrug and walked off.

Kubu climbed into his Land Rover and drove off, bumping over the pot-holed track through Tobela. A group of goats looked at him casually, but they moved aside to let him pass. And so he left his father's ancestral home none the wiser about his heritage, but with a piece of information he hadn't expected to find.

*   *   *

IN THE EARLY
light, the protecting horseshoe of hills around Shoshong made a beautiful sight, the dolerite boulders piled one on top of another a rich gold. In the distance, Kubu could see the gorge where the river had brought water to Old Shoshong, before it dried up over a hundred years ago, forcing Khama III to move his people away.

When Kubu reached the police station, Mabaku was already in his operations room. He glanced up as Kubu entered. “How come you're so late?”