Does it Hurt to Die (21 page)

‘
Mmmmmmm,’ said Mike, ‘very good answer. I can see that you’ve got your equilibrium back, which you’re going to need if you continue to find out things about your father and share the company of that young woman.’

‘
There was something that was a bit strange, though, when we were at the farm. Mrs Du Toit mentioned that there had been people there in the last few weeks from some government department looking for articles of historic value. They evidently went through all of my grandfather’s old records, very thoroughly, and then left. Moreover, I don’t know whether I’m imagining anything, but I had the sensation on the way back from Stellenbosch that there was a white Toyota that was following us. And there was a strange conversation with two men at lunch. Isabella said I was just being paranoid.’

‘
I think a little bit of paranoia is a healthy thing in South Africa,’ said Sian.

As Christian listened to the response, he looked up and saw the concerned look that Mike had given Sian and wondered if there was something Mike was not telling him. He was about to say something to Mike when Sian spoke again.

‘When you’ve finished eating, just leave your plate and Ruby will clear up. We’ll see you for breakfast. I’ve organised for Nadine, Sibokwe and Isabella to come here for lunch tomorrow. As you’ll remember, we shared the care of Sibokwe before and after his transplant until his mother, Kathleena, came to live in Cape Town, so it’ll be like a family reunion and you’ll see that Isabella is a little bit like a sister to him.’

Mike and Sian were already up, and as Christian joined them, Mike put down the newspaper he had been reading.

‘Nadine phoned and said that she and Isabella were thrilled to be coming, and so I thought we’d just have salad and cold meats for lunch, nothing too formal so that everyone can chat to each other,’ said Sian.

‘
Oh, yes, while I remember. Your mother phoned last night and asked if you’d Skype her this morning; she’s dying to catch up on all the news,’ said Mike, looking at Christian with a twinkle in his eye, before adding, ‘I wonder whether you’re going to tell her about Isabella?’

‘
Stop teasing him, Mike.’

‘
Don’t worry, Sian. I’m getting used to it and quite enjoy being paid out a little. It’s a typically Australian pastime.’

As he finished his coffee, he wondered about how much he should tell his mother. Then he thought, knowing her intuition, she would properly sense something was happening with Isabella; that is, if Mike had not already told her.

‘Hi, Mum,’ said Christian as the Skype dialled through to Renata. ‘It’s really nice to see you.’

‘
Hi, honey. You’re looking really well. It must be all that good South African food that Mike and Sian are feeding you! How is the search for information going, and how did you find the old Groote Schuur Hospital, where your father used to work?’

‘
It was fantastic, Mum; I met Nadine, Dad’s ex-scrub nurse and research coordinator. She showed me around some of the hospital and then introduced me to her daughter, Isabella. She’s really gorgeous.’

‘
Are you talking about the mother or the daughter, Christian?’

‘
Very funny. I was talking about Isabella; she’s smart, good-looking and great company and has been helping me explore some of the areas where you and Dad went to in Stellenbosch and Paarl.’

‘
Well, don’t get too involved. You’re due to come back here and start university, don’t forget.’

Christian noticed his mother’s mood had changed when he began talking to her about Isabella and Nadine. It was almost as if there was something that she was concerned about that involved them both. Perhaps, he thought, it is just that he is reminding her of things that were also in her past and that he should provide just some of the details. He decided to change the subject.

‘Mum, Mike and Sian have organised for Sibokwe to come to lunch today, so that’s going to be exciting to meet one of Dad’s patients. And then I think we’re going to go to the university where he works and to visit his mother in one of the townships.’

‘
OK, honey. It sounds like you’re also having some fun. Take care and give my regards to Mike and Sian; I’ll talk to them later.’

As Christian clicked off the Skype, Mike walked in
. ‘Everything OK at home?’ he said.

‘
Everything seems fine. Mum sends her regards and thanks and says you must be feeding me really well,’ said Christian. ‘But she seemed a little strange when I mentioned Nadine and Isabella. She looked a little shocked. Is there something that I don’t know?’

‘
No, I don’t think so. Perhaps she’s just tired, and it’s late at night there in Australia,’ said Mike, deciding that he would not tell Christian about the rumours of his father and Nadine. After all, they were only rumours.

Christian looked at the lunch that Ruby had carefully organised. He wondered where all the food had come from that nearly covered the table, certain that if he lived with Mike and Sian that he would be twice the size he was at the moment. As he considered sneaking a piece of ham he heard the security gate lift and saw Nadine’s car enter, driven by Isabella. He waved and made his way to the front steps that led to the stoep.

‘Hi, Nadine. Hi, Issy,’ he called from the top of the stairs.

‘
So, no opening the car door for a lady?’ teased Isabella as she got out of the car and stared at him with a mock grin.

‘
Take no notice of her, Christian. She’s been in this kind of mood since you arrived. I suspect she might be coming down with some kind of fever,’ said Nadine, glancing disapprovingly at her daughter.

As Mike and Sian joined him at the top of the stairs, another car pulled up at the security gate, which Mike then opened with the remote controller.

‘That’ll be Sibokwe,’ said Mike, walking down the stairs and pointing at the red Honda emerging from behind the security gates to park behind Nadine’s car. Christian watched as Sibokwe emerged from the car to be greeted with one of Mike’s special hugs. Mike put his arm around him, and they both quickly closed the gap to Isabella and Nadine at the foot of the stairs.

‘
Hi, Issy, Nadine,’ said Sibokwe, giving them both a kiss on the cheek and getting a playful dig in the ribs from Isabella in return.

As the greetings finished they all turned to look at the top of the stairs where Christian stood with Sian and Ruby. Christian looked down at them thinking what a wonderful place South Africa could be with people of different colour interacting like this.

‘So you are the son of the man who saved my life,’ said Sibokwe, taking the stairs two at a time to reach Christian.

As he reached him Christian held out his hand, but Sibokwe was having none of the traditional greeting, and while a good few centimetres shorter than Christian, gave him one of Mike’s hugs and lifted him off the ground, to the great delight of everyone around them.

‘That’s just to show you what a healthy legacy your father left,’ said Sibokwe, putting Christian on the ground and releasing him.

‘
Well, it’s so good to meet you, Sibokwe,’ Christian said, partly regathering his composure. ‘As you’ll know, I’ve heard all about you, and it’s fantastic to be here and meet you after all this time.’

‘
Well, without your father, I might not be here. I know that you’re anxious to find out as much as you can about him, so I’d be delighted to help you. I’m eternally grateful that he took a chance to give me a new liver under very difficult circumstances.’              ‘OK, that’s the introductions over. Let’s all go and eat,’ said Sian, leading the way to the table.

After they finished the first course and
Ruby had cleared the plates away, Sibokwe turned to Christian and asked, ‘Would you like to know how I met your father?’

‘
That’d certainly fill in another blank space for me.’

‘
Well, it’s just a bit of the story, because I can remember distinctly the day that he came to the small town my mother and I were living in at the time. He also had Mike with him, and so Mike could probably fill in some of the details that I may not remember.’

Christian looked in Mike’s direction and nodded his agreement, as did Sibokwe.

‘Sibokwe was ten years old and had developed hepatic failure. Jannie felt he wouldn’t survive more than a few days, unless he could be transplanted. Because he lived in one of the rural towns of the Cape Province, your father was concerned that Sibokwe’s post-operative care would be difficult, if not impossible,’ Mike said.

‘
Why did he take on such a difficult challenge then for his first child liver transplant?’ said Christian.

Sibokwe looked across at Mike and indicated with a nod that he should tell Christian about what had happened to his father.

‘Sibokwe is the son of Thompson Tamasala, who was falsely suspected of being an anti-government activist. He was killed by BOSS—the apartheid state’s sinister security service. That didn’t attract too much attention at the time. It was only when Sibokwe developed liver failure that it became known that he was the son of a murdered innocent black man. Nevertheless, Sibokwe became a cause célèbre for the nation’s left-wing anti-apartheid group. Jannie therefore knew that the transplant meant more than just saving a boy’s life, it also meant possibly assuaging a little of the white nation’s guilt over the meaningless killing of his father. That in itself created an enormous pressure to succeed.’

‘
And that cause was helped immeasurably by the fact that Sibokwe was a very photogenic little boy,’ added Isabella, looking in Sibokwe’s direction to see if she had embarrassed him a little.

‘
Ignore her, Christian. I’m the brother she never had. Keep going, Mike.’

‘
We’d first heard about Sibokwe a few weeks earlier when Dr Etienne Truter, a great friend of your father’s from childhood and medical school, contacted us about transplanting a new liver into Sibokwe. Jannie had huge reservations, as you can imagine. One of the things that you probably know is that the body can reject a foreign organ. The possibility of rejection and monitoring his liver function post-operatively would, if he took on Sibokwe, have to fall to a non-specialist. However, Etienne Truter was not only his best friend, but also a man who your father knew was extraordinarily gifted and dedicated. If it was ever going to be possible to succeed with a liver transplant in a remote situation, it would need to be someone with Etienne’s skills.’

‘
The other consideration, which can’t have been minor, was that I was black, and many Afrikaners considered saving a black life to be a low priority in a system designed to provide white health care,’ Sibokwe added.

‘
Your father,’ said Mike, ‘with his Afrikaner background, could see this transplant causing controversy, whether it succeeded or failed. Because of the political implications, he had talked to the university chancellor. That discussion only reinforced his apprehension about the whole case. The chancellor, being the libertarian that he was, enthusiastically backed the idea, suggesting it had great potential to address at least some of the wrongs of the apartheid system. Jannie thought afterwards that it was also his way of indirectly criticising a regime that normally allowed few criticisms.’

‘
That was really quite a courageous decision then,’ said Christian.

‘
Indeed, it was,’ said Sibokwe. ‘One that I’ll be eternally grateful for that he had the courage to take on.’

‘
What concerned him more,’ Mike continued, ‘was that the chancellor wanted to turn it into a photo opportunity, suggesting that Jannie take with him a photographer from the university and that we all go and personally see Sibokwe and Etienne Truter, the treating doctor. Jannie felt seeing Sibokwe firsthand was a good suggestion, but the photographer, he determined, could stay in Cape Town. I agreed wholeheartedly with him. Perhaps you could add something about where you lived, Sibokwe.’

‘
Pofadder had never really featured as a significant South African town. It existed on the edge of the Kalahari Desert and was known only for its relative obscurity. I lived with my mother in the older part of the town. The main street was tarred, and all the other streets, including Smuts Street, where I lived, were yellow dirt roads, suggesting the desert wasn’t very far away.’

‘
When we arrived after a bumpy three-hour flight on an old DC3, we found Etienne waiting for us at the airport. Seeing his beaten up old bakkie reminded us that he still cared little for the material things in life. The greetings were vigorous and heartfelt. Etienne was genuinely glad to see your father, and I remember well each having to pause initially, to let the other speak. Jannie and I jumped into Etienne’s bakkie and headed to Sibokwe’s,’ Mike said.

‘
My mother was a cleaner for a white madam, and we lived in the shed at the back of the house, which is where they were headed,’ added Sibokwe.

‘
Your father and Etienne had been friends from the time they grew up in Paarl. They knew both their fathers believed that the Afrikaner edifice was secured on the grounds of absolute compliance. Criticism of the apartheid philosophy was tantamount to sedition, and so their discussions about a different future for South Africa had mostly been held in private. After many discussions, they became firm friends.’

‘
And then they went to the University of Cape Town together to study medicine?’ said Christian.

‘
That’s right,’ said Mike. ‘At the University of Cape Town they both became involved with the Student Health Organisation, which exposed them to the wider needs of the black community.’

‘
It sounds like they were both trying to distance themselves from not only the indoctrination of their parents but the segregation that they preached,’ said Christian.

‘
Yes, it was a struggle for them and I remember the first evening we all experienced interaction with the black community. We all piled into the student bus and headed to the black township of Guguletu. The students sought to provide free medical care in the squatter camps and took out a caravan once a week to treat patients. For Jannie and Etienne, it was with some trepidation. They had no experience, really, talking to blacks or coloureds. The only experience of black and white interaction was from watching their fathers command, shout or beat the farm workers.’

‘
I’ve heard this story,’ said Isabella. ‘It’s actually quite funny. I think you’ll like it, Christian, and it’s a reminder of how different it must have been for someone like your father.’