Rage (31 page)
Authors: Wilbur Smith
I
t had been fully dark for two hours by the time Moses reached the camp in the gorge below the Sundi Caves and parked the Buick behind the Nissen hut that was the expedition's office and laboratory, and he went up the path to Tara Courtney's tent, stepping softly so as not to alarm her. He saw her silhouette against the canvas side. She was lying on her stretcher bed reading by the light of the petromax lantern, and he saw her start as he scratched on the canvas.
t had been fully dark for two hours by the time Moses reached the camp in the gorge below the Sundi Caves and parked the Buick behind the Nissen hut that was the expedition's office and laboratory, and he went up the path to Tara Courtney's tent, stepping softly so as not to alarm her. He saw her silhouette against the canvas side. She was lying on her stretcher bed reading by the light of the petromax lantern, and he saw her start as he scratched on the canvas.
âDon't be afraid,' he called softly. âIt's me.'
And her reply was low but quivering with joy. âOh, God, I thought you'd never come.'
She was in a frenzy for him. Her other pregnancies had always left her feeling nauseous and bloated, and the thought of sexual contact during that time had been
repugnant. But now, even though she was over three months pregnant, her wanting was a kind of madness. Moses seemed to sense her need, but did not try to match it. He lay naked upon his back on the stretcher, and he was like a pinnacle of black granite. Tara hurled herself upon him to impale herself. She was sobbing and uttering little cries and yelps. At once both clumsy and adroit, her body, not yet swollen by the child within her, thrashed and churned above him as he lay quiescent and unmoving, and she went on beyond physical endurance, beyond the limits of flesh, insatiable and desperate for him, until exhaustion at last overcame her and she rolled off him and lay panting weakly, her chestnut hair darkened by her own sweat and plastered to her forehead and neck, and there was a thin pink colouring of blood on the front of her thighs, so wild had been her passion.
repugnant. But now, even though she was over three months pregnant, her wanting was a kind of madness. Moses seemed to sense her need, but did not try to match it. He lay naked upon his back on the stretcher, and he was like a pinnacle of black granite. Tara hurled herself upon him to impale herself. She was sobbing and uttering little cries and yelps. At once both clumsy and adroit, her body, not yet swollen by the child within her, thrashed and churned above him as he lay quiescent and unmoving, and she went on beyond physical endurance, beyond the limits of flesh, insatiable and desperate for him, until exhaustion at last overcame her and she rolled off him and lay panting weakly, her chestnut hair darkened by her own sweat and plastered to her forehead and neck, and there was a thin pink colouring of blood on the front of her thighs, so wild had been her passion.
Moses drew the sheet over her and held her until she had stopped shaking and her breathing had quietened, and then he said, âIt will begin soon â the date has been agreed.'
Tara was so transported that for a while she did not understand, and she shook her head stupidly.
âJune the 26th,' Moses said. âAcross the land, in every city, all at the same time. Tomorrow I will be going to Port Elizabeth in the Eastern Cape to command the campaign there.'
That was hundreds of miles from Johannesburg, and she had come to be near him. With the melancholy of after-love upon her, Tara felt cheated and abused. She wanted to protest but with an effort checked herself.
âHow long will you be away?'
âWeeks.'
âOh, Moses!' she began, and then warned by his quick frown, she relapsed into silence.
âThe American woman â the Godolphin woman. Have you contacted her? Without publicity the value of our efforts will be halved.'
âYes.' Tara paused. She had been on the point of telling him that it was all arranged, that Kitty Godolphin would meet him any time he wanted, but she stopped herself. Instead of handing her over to Moses and standing aside, here was her chance to stay close to him.
âYes, I have spoken to her. We met at her hotel, she is eager to meet you but she is out of town at the moment, in Swaziland.'
âThat is no good,' Moses muttered. âI had hoped to see her before I left.'
âI could bring her down to Port Elizabeth,' Tara cut in eagerly. âShe will be back in a day or two and I will bring her to you.'
âCan you get away from here?' he asked dubiously.
âYes, of course. I will bring the television people down to you in my own car.'
Moses grunted uncertainly, and was silent while he thought about it, and then he nodded.
âVery well. I will explain how you will be able to contact me when you get there. I will be in the township of New Brighton, just outside the city.'
âCan I be with you, Moses? Can I stay with you?'
âYou know that is impossible.' He was irritated by her persistence. âNo whites are allowed in the township without a pass.'
âThe television team will not be able to help you much if we are kept out of the township,' Tara said quickly. âWe should be close to you to be of any use to the struggle.' Cunningly she had linked herself to Kitty Godolphin, and she held her breath as he thought about it.
âPerhaps,' he nodded, and she exhaled softly. He had accepted it. âYes. There might be a way. There is a mission hospital run by German nuns in the township. They are friends. You could stay there. I will arrange it.'
She tried not to let him see her triumph. She would be with him, that was all that was important. It was madness,
but though her body was bruised and sore, already she wanted him again. It was not physical lust, it was more than that. It was the only way she could possess him, even for a few fleeting minutes. When she had him locked in her body, he belonged to her alone.
but though her body was bruised and sore, already she wanted him again. It was not physical lust, it was more than that. It was the only way she could possess him, even for a few fleeting minutes. When she had him locked in her body, he belonged to her alone.
T
ara was puzzled by Kitty Godolphin's attitude towards her. She was accustomed to people, both men and women, responding immediately to her own warm personality and good looks. Kitty was different, from the very beginning there had been a cold-eyed reserve and an innate hostility in her. Very swiftly Tara had seen beyond the angelic, little-girl image that Kitty so carefully projected, but even after she had recognized the tough and ruthless person beneath, she could find no logical reason for the woman's attitude. After all Tara was offering her an important assignment, and Kitty was examining the gift as though it were a live scorpion.
ara was puzzled by Kitty Godolphin's attitude towards her. She was accustomed to people, both men and women, responding immediately to her own warm personality and good looks. Kitty was different, from the very beginning there had been a cold-eyed reserve and an innate hostility in her. Very swiftly Tara had seen beyond the angelic, little-girl image that Kitty so carefully projected, but even after she had recognized the tough and ruthless person beneath, she could find no logical reason for the woman's attitude. After all Tara was offering her an important assignment, and Kitty was examining the gift as though it were a live scorpion.
âI don't understand,' she protested, her voice and eyes snapping. âYou told me we could do the interview here in Johannesburg. Now you want me to traipse off into the deep sticks somewhere.'
âMoses Gama has to be there. Something important is about to take placeâ'
âWhat is so important?' Kitty demanded, fists on her lean denim-clad hips. âWhat we agreed was important also.'
Most people, from leading politicians and international stars of sport and entertainment down to the lowest nonentity, were ready to risk slipping a spinal disc in their eagerness to appear for even the briefest moment on the little square screen. It was Kitty Godolphin's right, a semidivine right, to decide who would be accorded that opportunity and who would be denied it. Moses Gama's cavalier
behaviour was insulting. He had been chosen, and instead of displaying the gratitude which was Kitty Godolphin's due, he was setting conditions.
behaviour was insulting. He had been chosen, and instead of displaying the gratitude which was Kitty Godolphin's due, he was setting conditions.
âJust what is so important that he cannot make the effort of common courtesy?' she repeated.
âI'm sorry, Miss Godolphin, I can't tell you that.'
âWell, then, I'm sorry also, Mrs Courtney, but you tell Moses Gama from me that he can go straight to hell without passing Go and without collecting his two hundred dollars.'
âYou aren't serious!' Tara hadn't expected that.
âI have never been more serious in my life.' Kitty rolled her wrist to look at her Rolex. âNow, if you will excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.'
âAll right,' Tara gave in at once. âI will risk it. I'll tell you what is going to happen â¦' Tara paused while she considered the consequences, and then asked, âYou will keep it to yourself, what I am about to tell you?'
âDarling, if there is a good story in it, they wouldn't get it out of me with thumbscrew and hot irons â that is, not until I splash it across the screen myself.'
Tara told her in a rush of words, getting it out quickly before she could change her mind. âIt will be a chance to film him at work, to see him with his people, to watch him defying the forces of oppression and bigotry.'
She saw Kitty hesitating and knew that she had to think quickly.
âHowever, I should warn you, there may be danger. The confrontation could turn to violence and even bloodshed,' she said, and she had got it exactly right.
âHank!' Kitty Godolphin shouted through to the lounge of her suite where the camera crew were strewn over the furniture like the survivors of a bomb blast, listening at full volume of the radio to the new rock ân' roll sensation warning them to keep off his blue suede shoes.
âHank!' Kitty raised her voice above Presley's. âGet the cameras packed. We are going to a place called Port Elizabeth. If we can find where the hell it is.'
They drove through the night in Tara's Packard, and the suspension sagged under the weight of bodies and camera equipment. In his travels around the country Hank had discovered that cannabis grew as a weed around most of the villages in the reserves of Zululand and the Transkei. In an environment that the plant found agreeable, it reached the size of a small tree. Only a few of the older generation of black tribesmen smoked the dried leaves, and although it was proscribed as a noxious plant and listed as a dangerous drug, its use was so localized and restricted to the more primitive blacks in the remote areas â for no white person or educated African would lower himself to smoke it â that the authorities made little effort to prevent its cultivation and sale. Hank had found an endless supply of what he declared to be âpure gold' for the payment of pennies.
âMan, a sack of this stuff on the streets of Los Angeles would fetch a hundred thousand dollars,' he murmured contentedly as he lit a hand-rolled cigarette and settled down on the back seat of the Packard. The heavy incense of the leaves filled the interior, and after a few draws Hank passed the cigarette to Kitty in the front seat. Kitty drew on the butt deeply and held the smoke in her lungs, as long as she was able, before blowing it out in a pale streamer against the windscreen. Then she offered the butt to Tara.
âI don't smoke tobacco,' Tara told her politely, and they all laughed.
âThat ain't baccy, sweetheart,' Hank told her.
âWhat is it?'
âYou call it
dagga
here.'
dagga
here.'
âDagga
.' Tara was shocked. She remembered that Centaine had fired one of her houseboys who smoked it.
.' Tara was shocked. She remembered that Centaine had fired one of her houseboys who smoked it.
âHe dropped my Rosenthal tureen, the one that belonged
to Czar Nicholas,' Centaine had complained. âOnce they start on that stuff they become totally useless.'
to Czar Nicholas,' Centaine had complained. âOnce they start on that stuff they become totally useless.'
âNo thanks,' Tara said quickly, and thought how angry Shasa would be if he knew that she had been offered it. That thought gave her pause and she changed her mind. âOh, all right.' She took the butt, steering the Packard with one hand. âWhat do I do?'
âJust suck it in and hold it down,' Kitty advised, âand ride the glow.'
The smoke scratched her throat and burned her lungs, but the thought of Shasa's outrage gave her determination. She fought the urge to cough and held it down.
Slowly she felt herself relaxing, and a mild glow of euphoria made her body seem air-light and cleansed her mind. All the agonies of her soul became trivial and fell behind her.
âI feel good,' she murmured, and when they laughed, she laughed with them and drove on into the night.
In the early morning before it was fully light, they reached the coast, skirting the bay of Algoa where the Indian Ocean took a deep bite out of the continent, and the green waters were chopped to a white froth by the wind.
âWhere do we go from here?' Kitty asked.
âThe black township of New Brighton,' Tara told her. âThere is a mission run by German nuns, a teaching and nursing order, the Sisters of St Magdalene. They are expecting us. We aren't really allowed to stay in the township, but they have arranged it.'
Sister Nunziata was a handsome blonde woman, not much older than forty years. She had a clear scrubbed-looking skin and her manner was brisk and efficient. She wore the light grey cotton habit of the order, and a white shoulder-length veil.
âMrs Courtney, I have been expecting you. Our mutual friend will be here later this morning. You will want to
bathe and rest.' She led them to the cells that had been set aside for them and apologized for the simple comforts they contained. Kitty and Tara shared a cell. The floor was bare cement, the only decoration was a crucifix on the whitewashed wall, and the springs of the iron bedsteads were covered with thin hard coir mattresses.
bathe and rest.' She led them to the cells that had been set aside for them and apologized for the simple comforts they contained. Kitty and Tara shared a cell. The floor was bare cement, the only decoration was a crucifix on the whitewashed wall, and the springs of the iron bedsteads were covered with thin hard coir mattresses.
âShe's just great,' Kitty enthused. âI must get her on film. Nuns always make good footage.'
As soon as they had bathed and unpacked their equipment, Kitty had her crew out filming. She recorded a good interview with Sister Nunziata, her German accent lending interest to her statements, and then they filmed the black children in the schoolyard and the out-patients waiting outside the clinic.
Tara was awed by the girl's energy, her quick mind and glib tongue, and her eye for angle and subject as she directed the shooting. It made Tara feel superfluous, and her own lack of talent and creative skill irked her. She found herself resenting the other girl for having pointed up her inadequacies so graphically.
Then everything else was irrelevant. A nondescript old Buick sedan pulled into the mission yard and a tall figure climbed out and came towards them. Moses Gama wore a light blue open-neck shirt, the short sleeves exposed the sleek muscle in his upper arms and neck, and his tailored blue slacks were belted around his narrow waist. Tara didn't have to say anything, they all knew immediately who he was as Kitty Godolphin breathed softly beside her, âMy God, he is beautiful as a black panther.'
Tara's resentment of her flared into seething hatred. She wanted to rush to Moses and embrace him so that Kitty might know he was hers, but instead she stood dumbly while he stopped in front of Kitty and held out his right hand.
âMiss Godolphin? At last,' he said, and his voice brought out a rush of goose-bumps down Tara's arms.
The rest of the day was spent in reconnaisance and the filming of more background material, this time with Moses as the central figure in each shot. The New Brighton township was typical of the South African urban locations, rows of identical low-cost housing laid out in geometric squares of narrow roads, some of them paved and others rutted and filled with muddy puddles in which the preschool children and toddlers, many of them naked or dressed only in ragged shorts, played raucously.
Kitty filmed Moses picking his way around the puddles, squatting to talk to the children, lifting a marvellously photogenic little black cherub in his arms and wiping his snotty nose.
âThat's great stuff,' Kitty enthused. âHe's going to look magnificent on film.'
The children followed Moses, laughing and skipping behind him as though he were the Pied Piper, and the women attracted by the commotion came out of the squalid little cottages. When they recognized Moses and saw the cameras, they began to ululate and dance. They were natural actresses and completely without inhibition, and Kitty was everywhere, calling for shots and unusual camera angles, clearly delighted by the footage she was getting.
In the late afternoon the working men began to arrive back in the township by bus and train. Most of them were production-line workers in the vehicle assembly plants of Ford and General Motors, or factory-workers in the tyre companies of Goodyear and Firestone, for Port Elizabeth and its satellite town of Uitenhage formed the centre of the country's motor vehicle industry.
Moses walked the narrow streets with the camera following him, and he stopped to talk to the returning workers, while the camera recorded their complaints and problems, most of which were the practical everyday worries of making ends meet while remaining within the narrow lines demarcated by the forest of racial laws. Kitty could edit
most of that out, but every one of them mentioned the âshow on demand' clause of the pass laws as the thing they hated and feared most. In every little vignette they filmed Moses Gama was the central heroic figure.
most of that out, but every one of them mentioned the âshow on demand' clause of the pass laws as the thing they hated and feared most. In every little vignette they filmed Moses Gama was the central heroic figure.
âBy the time I've finished with him, he will be as famous as Martin Luther King,' Kitty enthused.
They joined the nuns for their frugal evening meal, and afterwards Kitty Godolphin was still not satisfied. Outside one of the cottages near the mission a family was cooking on an open fire, and Kitty had Moses join them, hunched over the fire in the night with the flames lighting his face, adding drama to his already massive presence as she filmed him while he spoke. In the background one of the women was singing a lullaby to the infant at her breast, and there were the murmurous sounds of the location, the soft cries of the children and the distant yapping of pariah dogs.
Moses Gama's words were poignant and moving, spoken in that deep thrilling voice, as he described the agony of his land and his people, so that Tara, listening to him in the darkness, found tears running down her face.
In the morning Kitty left her team at the mission,-and without the camera the three of them, Kitty and Tara and Moses, drove in the Buick to the railway station that served the township and watched the black commuters swarm like hiving bees through the station entrance marked NON WHITES â NIE BLANKES, crowding onto the platform reserved for blacks, and as soon as the train pulled in flooding into the coaches set aside for them.
Through the other entrance, marked WHITES ONLY â BLANKES ALLEENLIK, a few white officials and others who had business in the township sauntered and unhurriedly entered the first-class coaches at the rear of the train where they sat on green leather-covered seats and gazed out through glass at the black swarm on the opposite platform with detached expressions as though they were viewing creatures of another species.
âI've got to try and get that,' Kitty muttered. âI've got to get that reaction on film.' She was busily scribbling notes in her pad, sketching rough maps of the station layout and marking in camera sites and angles.
Before noon Moses excused himself. âI have to meet the local organizers and make the final plans for tomorrow,' and he drove away in the Buick.
Tara took Kitty and the team down to the seaside at St George's Strand, and they filmed the bathers on the beaches lying under the signboards BLANKES ALLEENLIK â WHITES ONLY. School was out and tanned young people, the girls in bikinis and the boys with short haircuts and frank open faces, lolled on the white sand, or played beach games and surfed the rolling green waves.
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