Does it Hurt to Die (5 page)

Jannie was unsure whether it was the pain that woke him or the incessant beep, beep, beep, of an empty intravenous fluid monitor. He looked at his arm as the full weight of the plaster impacted. There were no wires protruding, so Chris had not used an external fixation device. That was unusual; he knew most of the orthopaedic surgeons loved mechano-style contraptions. It was unusual, also, because he knew the fracture was particularly bad and would have been comminuted and in multiple pieces. As he wondered about Chris’s rationale, the pain broke through again, this time from his back and legs. He pushed the call button for the nurse
, the movements causing a searing jolt from his left arm to the shoulder and mid back.

‘
Good morning, Dr de Villiers. Awake I see,’ said the sister.

He looked at her as she circled the bed towards the syringe pump.

‘Get out, you black bitch, get out,’ Jannie yelled, watching the shocked look on her face and tasting his own anger at what had happened to him. She stood as if transfixed, and as Jannie was about to yell at her again the pain arrived driving upwards into his shoulder stopping him. The pain again occupied his consciousness. He lay still knowing movement meant more pain, suppressing the outrage while the sister, overwhelmed at his outburst, left.

Within a few minutes, a white sister returned. She was middle
-aged and beautifully groomed—a tradition among South African white women, no matter how poor.

‘
Dr de Villiers,’ she said.

Jannie sensed from her tone that she was the assistant matron at least, although he did not recognise her.

‘I realise that you’ve been through a tremendous ordeal and that you may be still in shock, but that’s no way to treat my staff, calling them “black bitches” and telling them to “get out”.’

‘
Ever been shot by a black man; ever seen men and women killed by black hate, Sister? Ever been raped by a black man, Sister?’

The questions were rhetorical and delivered with an incantation that surprised him; maybe he was in shock, he thought, or maybe it was how he truly felt about the underlying layers of liberalism that Renata had helped apply.

‘Well, don’t just stand there dredging the neurons,’ he said uncertain that being nice at this stage would rectify anything even if he felt like it. ‘Fix the drip, which would be useful,’ he snapped.

Jannie watched as she fumbled to replace the saline infusion, perturbed by the way he had reacted to the black Sister, but also, he sensed, it was more by the way he had belittled her—one of his own kind. The drip was restarted without a further word being exchanged, and she left without a cursory glance to see if he was settled or the narcotics working. Shortly after his outburst, Digby appeared and stood at the foot of the bed looking down at him.

‘What the hell’s going on, Digby,’ he asked, ‘and why the hell are you smiling?’

With that Digby laughed
. ‘You must be better, Jannie. I had a call that you were trauma affected and decompensating, but when they told me what had happened I knew you’d just made an early start to your recovery and all your Afrikaner traditions were coming home to roost!’ He laughed once more and glanced at his friend, but Jannie was not in the mood.

‘
What did you find, Digby?’

‘
Some fairly large holes from grenade shrapnel, two bullet wounds and, of course, your arm. We cleaned out what we could, took pieces of shrapnel that were accessible, and sutured the wounds closed.’

‘
What about the arm? What did Chris do to that?’

‘
It took him seven hours, Jannie. You had multiple fractures of the radius and ulna, which he’s pieced together.’

‘
But there’s none of his usual mechano sticking out of this,’ Jannie half complained. ‘He always fixes his bad fractures externally.’

‘
He’s taken a chance with you, Jannie. He’s gambled that reassembling the jigsaw of pieces will enable the bone to reform around the internal plates.’

Jannie considered the response for a moment, thinking Chris had played high stakes poker with his arm. Chris had obviously weighed the factors carefully in making his decision, and if this worked, he would be back operating sooner than three or six months. Otherwise, it was too overwhelming to consider; the bones may not heal around the plates, leaving him with an arm which would not function at all. He chased that thought from his mind as the door opened and the tanned face of Chris Kimble, with his large orthopaedic frame, strode in.

‘Awake and in good humour I hear,’ he said, grinning at Jannie.

‘
He’s not regained his humour yet,’ interjected Digby, knowing Chris’s penchant for extracting more than the moment offered.

Jannie fixed Chris with his clinical gaze
. ‘When can I operate again?’

Chris held his gaze
. ‘I’m not sure, Jannie, six weeks, eight weeks maybe, that’s if the pieces unite.’

‘
No pieces of wire coming out of this, Chris,’ said Jannie, tapping his plaster cast.

Jannie watched Chris shift his weight, uncomfortable at a question that he knew hid a further question in Jannie’s mind.

‘It’s a gamble, Jannie. If it takes, there won’t be multiple operations.’

Jannie looked into his eyes. He was not as certain as he sounded.

‘Damn him,’ he thought, before changing tack.

‘
Do they know what the hell happened yet? And what about Sibokwe and the transplant? Have they caught those bloody Kaffirs yet?’

Chris looked at Digby.

‘What? What is it?’ Jannie snapped.

Digby watched Chris nod at him
. ‘Jannie, you can relax about the transplant. That’s gone well and Renata can fill you in on that later. The terrorists all got away; they escaped into Guguletu Township. Not a trace, other than four AK-47s and several hand grenades that were found in a green truck at the church.

‘
What’s the matter with the police? Why don’t they just drag in the Pan African Congress leaders and give them a helicopter ride?’ Jannie retorted.

Chris and Digby knew he was referring to their time in Angola when they had seen special troops take prisoners for a ride in a helicopter. Whether they returned depended on both the co-operation of the prisoner and the personality defect of the interrogator.

‘Jannie, there’s something else you need to know. There are cameras and journalists from the BBC, CNN and all the major networks. They’re waiting to interview you.’

‘
Send them in. Let them start to understand that this country is like no other, that blacks have finally proven that they are not fit to rule.’

Chris looked at Digby and raised one eyebrow—a sign that signalled a recurring theme in their lives, which was a difference in attitude that had been part of their friendship since university days. Jannie, despite his longing to be seen as a fashionable conservative, could not deny his roots. The notion of white man being the master, the black man a slave, was ingrained on a mind that shone so brilliantly in other areas. How many times had this Rubicon been approached by the three of them? Despite ganging up on him and evidence to the contrary, Jannie’s intransigence assumed mythical proportions.

‘It’s all very well for you, a suburban-protected species of white humanity,’ he would often conclude. ‘You’ve never witnessed the real blacks—the ones who’d have a say in running this country. You haven’t seen their inhumanity to each other, their lack of morality, or their inability to Westernise. They are capable workers but not able to govern. Neither of you grew up on a farm and experienced what I did.’

Chris knew by heart his friend’s closing argument and the exasperation they had all felt in trying to get him to shed the burden of his upbringing and indoctrination. They had been partly successful he used to think at times. Jannie would admit he could see an alternative to white suppression, but when it came to a democratically elected government, he could not get past his Afrikaner heritage.

‘Jannie, they’re all talking forgiveness,’ interjected Digby.

Jannie looked at them both, stunned momentarily and no one spoke for a few minutes.

‘What do you mean they’re talking forgiveness?’

‘
Exactly that, Jannie,’ said Chris.             

‘
Who’s saying that?’

‘
The pastor, church elders, and some of the parishioners who had loved ones killed,’ replied Chris.

‘
They must be in a state of shock,’ said Jannie. ‘Don’t they realise that if you go soft on them, they’ll see it as a weakness and a licence to kill again. Forgiveness is just the kind of pathetic response that encourages terrorists to try again. At least that’s what I’ve had emphatically demonstrated. And to think of all those libertarian theories on equality that you almost had me convinced of.’

‘
They’ve said that if the terrorists are willing to leave their guns at home, they can come and worship in the church,’ added Digby, secretly pleased that he could interject a quote that he knew would eat at the core of Jannie’s prejudice. He knew his friend had endured much, but nothing quite irritated him as much as Jannie’s stubborn refusal to see past his own prejudice.

‘
What an idiotic thing to say,’ said Jannie. ‘Which one of you suburban liberals came up with that gem?’

‘
The Bishop,’ said Chris, trying to hold back a smile.

‘
That figures,’ said Jannie. ‘He wasn’t even there. It’s easy for him to say. How many were killed?’

‘
Twenty and fifty seriously injured,’ said Digby.

‘
Well, he’s in need of sedation then.’

Chris glanced across at Digby again.

‘What, what?’ said Jannie impatiently, understanding the look of dissent.

‘
Look, Jannie, we know how you must feel, but if those cameras come in here and you start with your cultured remarks about the collective intelligence of the blacks, it’s going to…’

However, before he could finish, Jannie cut in
. ‘It’s going to what, Chris? Inflame the situation; reflect badly on the University of Cape Town and its reputation for racial equality?’

‘
No, Jannie, it may be more serious than that,’ said Chris.

‘
Oh, save me the melodrama, Chris. How much more inflamed can it be with twenty dead and fifty maimed?’

‘
We could have a Civil War, Jannie.’

‘
Come on, I’ve known you both for twenty years. I know you seriously believe in liberalism and equality of man. But, admit it; this one act of barbarism has undermined your often-quoted conciliation theory. In one act of terror, it has wholly undermined your theory of integration and conciliation. How can you integrate with those who explode our morality and values with hand grenades laced with nails? Can’t you see this is not just about race? It’s about foreign governments who want to control the country for its resources.’

Chris was also irritated that despite Jannie’s condition he could not control his response.

‘Shut-up, Jannie, you’re sounding like one of Eugene Terreblanche’s verkrampte henchmen.’

They all looked at each other, concerned about where their disagreement had taken them. The usual silence descended. It was Digby who finally broke the silence.

‘Jannie if you appear on the international news suggesting that this event justifies segregation, it could be the single most catalytic event after this outrage. Given your position and eloquence, you could have an enormous influence on whether this wound heals or doesn’t.’

Jannie fixed both of them with the clinical stare he usually reserved for tentative medical students, until they both looked at each other, understanding that there was going to be no changing of his mind.

‘Try and get some rest, Jannie,’ said Chris as he followed Digby out of the door.

Once they were alone in the passage, Digby said
, ‘We can’t let him talk to the press.’

‘
Spoken like a true nationalist, Digby,’ replied Chris. ‘You can’t stop him. That runs contrary to all the principles of freedom of speech that we’ve argued about for so long. Anyway, how are you going to stop him?’

‘
We could increase the sedation a little,’ said Digby, raising his eyebrows as he always did when seeking tacit approval for something he was unsure his colleague would agree with.

‘
Jannie’s not stupid, Digby. He’d know. Besides, he’s entrusted himself into our care and in certain ways that would make us no better than him.’

‘
The syringe pump is nearly empty, and if we increase the Pethidine, but retain the volume and the rate, he wouldn’t know.’

‘
Digby, if he suspects anything, our friendship will be a thing of the past.’

‘
Look, Chris, we have a potential for major damage politically if Jannie speaks out in his current condition. We already have the conservative rabid white Afrikaner saying this proves that blacks are unfit to govern. To have someone who is perceived as being more liberal-minded endorsing that view will set back any kind of peaceful transition in this country by a decade. Besides, he’s stressed and not thinking straight, and should be sedated for twenty-four hours for his own health.’