When Time Fails (Silverman Saga Book 2) (17 page)

‘Why didn’t he just say he was a member of the ANC or MK? They had quite a lot of white members,’ Thys said as they waited for their hamburgers and chips at the Wimpy down the road from the Cathedral.

Mr Venter took a sip of his coffee before responding: ‘The ANC and MK kept pretty good records. Throughout these hearings, many applicants have claimed to have been carrying out MK orders when committing so-called human rights atrocities, or just plain old criminal activities. Most have been caught out when they were unable to prove their MK membership. APLA was – and remains – more obscure and less organised. So Mr Strydom – and I have no doubt his fellow applicants – probably thought it would be prudent to claim affiliation to that organisation.’

‘Why would they lie about it? What possible difference would it make? They killed Annamari’s family – that’s murder, plain and simple. That’s why the court in Bloemfontein sentenced Smit to life.’

The waitress arrived with their food. Mr Venter waited until she had put the plates down and left before answering. ‘In order to be granted amnesty for a specific crime – a killing, a bombing – even, in some instances theft and fraud,’ he said, sprinkling vinegar onto his chips, ‘the applicant has to meet fairly strict criteria, the most important of which is the fact that the actions in question must have had a clear political objective and were not merely criminal in nature, or motivated by revenge.’ He cut through his hamburger, put a piece in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

“I have found that the most obvious – and common – tactic during amnesty hearings is for the applicants to claim that the events for which they are applying for amnesty were effected on behalf of one of the liberation movements. In this case Mr Strydom has opted for APLA. It will be interesting to see what line Mr Naidoo takes for the co-applicants.’

***

Mr Yusif Naidoo rose to his feet and hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets.

‘Please,’ Annamari begged silently, ‘tell the truth. Tell me what really happened that night. Tell me why my family was murdered.’

‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane,’ Mr Naidoo intoned sonorously in a strong Chatsworth accent, ‘are applying for amnesty on two separate counts. One, of course as my charming colleague has related, relates to the incident at Steynspruit Farm on the night of 15 to 16 June, 1989. Like their fellow applicant Mr Strydom, my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, were charged and found guilty on three counts of murder relating to this incident. They were sentenced to life imprisonment. My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, are currently serving their sentences at Pretoria Central Prison. However, before I deal with this most unfortunate incident, I must – with your indulgence, Mr Chairman – I would like to deal with the second application that has been brought before this honourable Commission by my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane.’

‘Is that really necessary? Wouldn’t it make more sense to finish with the Steynspruit incident and then to move on to the second application?’ Tutu-two asked.

‘Not at all, Mr Chairman. Not at all. The two incidents are intimately related as shall quickly become apparent.’

‘Well then, please proceed, Mr Naidoo.’

Mr Naidoo flashed a gleaming smile at Tutu-two, and glanced fleetingly at some papers on the table in front of him. ‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, are applying for amnesty for their indirect involvement in an incident on a farm – a very small farm, fittingly described as a smallholding – located some 10 kilometres west of Warmbaths. This incident took place on the evening of the fifth of May in 1983.’

Annamari stifled a shocked laugh. She glanced at Thys. He looked as stunned as she felt. Stefan Smit half rose to his feet, and then shrivelled back onto his chair, his fringe a grey curtain over his eyes. He leaned over and whispered frantically in his lawyer’s ear. Afrikaans Ally jerked her head away and brushed at her sleeve.

‘In this incident, a white woman, one Wilhelmina Botha and her thirteen-year-old daughter, Sara Botha, were shot and sadly died at the scene. My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, have applied for amnesty for their very, very peripheral role in the events leading to the deaths of Mrs Botha and Sara Botha. I must inform the Committee that neither Mr Buya nor Mr Xlongwane has been charged with any offence relating to these deaths and may not be, but they have applied for amnesty in the spirit of reconciliation and in order to ensure that truth, the whole truth, shall prevail.’

Afrikaans Ally tottered to her feet. ‘Mr Chairman,’ she appealed, ‘this incident took place hundreds of kilometres away from the incident for which all three applicants have applied for amnesty. The one has nothing to do with the other; nor for that matter is it of any concern to my client. Can we please finish the original application so that we can...so that my client can... so that we can just finish what we started this morning, otherwise we will have to come back tomorrow.’

‘Guess who hasn’t been properly briefed,’ Thys whispered. Annamari just nodded, too stunned to respond. She glanced at Mr Venter, who was staring at them, eyebrows raised. Thys gave him a discrete thumbs-up.

Mr Venter jumped to his feet. ‘Mr Chairman, I have no objection to the application for the two incidents being heard simultaneously. Indeed, my clients – and I – are extremely curious to find out more about this other incident.’

‘I agree, Mr Venter. Proceed please, Mr Naidoo,’ Tutu-two said.

Afrikaans Ally slumped back into her chair and resumed her examination of her nails. Stefan Smit glanced furtively at Annamari and Thys, and looked away. Mr Naidoo picked up his papers, and resumed.

‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, were born, raised and grew up together in King William’s Town in the Eastern Cape. Well, not King William’s Town itself, obviously, that being in the Apartheid era and all. In Ginsberg, a township next to King William’s Town – the black township, of course. Yes. Well. Anyway. In September 1977, when they – my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane. When they were just eighteen years old, Mr Steve Biko – who also hailed from Ginsberg, the township you know – well, Mr Biko was brutally murdered by the South African Police while he was in their custody.’

‘Who’s Steve Biko? What’s he got to do with all this?’ Annamari whispered.

Thys shrugged.

‘I must inform the honourable committee, and you Mr Chairman, that Mr Biko’s horrifying death had a most enormous impact on my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani. A most, most enormous impact. Shortly thereafter they – my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani– joined the PAC and fled South Africa. They were just eighteen years old and they were sent to Tanzania where they underwent military training. Rigorous military training. Most rigorous. Over the next few years, my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, became most seasoned APLA cadres. Most seasoned and brave. They returned to South Africa several times over the years to carry out various missions, very dangerous, very important. They were very brave. Very very brave. They were risking their lives to free those of us who were still in chains as it were. You do understand, Mr Chairman?’

‘Yes, Mr Naidoo. Please proceed,’ Tutu-two said.

‘In 1973, while my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, were both in Mamelodi Township – that’s a township just outside Pretoria, Mr Chairman. Perhaps you know it? Yes, there were my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, preparing for another dangerous APLA mission, when they heard about a white man who had a strange, a most strange proposal for APLA. That’s when my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, met the co-applicant, Mr Stefanus Strydom for the first time.’

Stefan Smit stared at the table top. Afrikaans Ally looked up briefly, and then carried on looking at her long, red nails. Annamari looked back at Mr Naidoo. ‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, had heard that Mr Strydom was urgently looking for someone to carry out a “terrorist attack” on a farm near Warmbaths.’

‘That’s a lie. That’s a fucking lie,’ Stefan Smit snarled.

Mr Naidoo ignored him. ‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, were naturally and obviously most curious about this very unusual request and arranged to meet Mr Strydom that same day. Mr Strydom offered my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, R500 to attack this farm which, he told them, was his very own farm.’

Annamari closed her mouth and squeezed Thys’ hand. Thys squeezed back. Stefan Smit slouched in his chair and ran his dirty forefinger over his lips.

‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, discussed their meeting with Mr Strydom with their APLA comrades. Most obviously, they were very, very concerned that it was a trap. So they told Mr Strydom that no, they most definitely could not do what he, Mr Strydom, had requested and Mr Strydom said because it was so urgent, he would carry out the “attack” himself but he would most obviously need a “terrorist” weapon to do so. My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, therefore supplied Mr Strydom with an old AK47 for which Mr Strydom paid one thousand Rand in cash.’

‘Are you fucking crazy? I never bought an AK47. I never met your fucking clients back then... You are lying,’ Stefan Smit screamed.

Afrikaner Ally tottered to her feet, objecting and shrieking that she was being blindsided and demanding an adjournment to confer with her client. Tutu-two granted a short adjournment.

‘Do you think they were telling the truth? Any of them?’

‘N
o
liefi
e
. They were all lying – or at least, not being totally honest. But I think Mr Venter did a great job. Don’t you agree?’

Annamari nodded slowly. ‘Ja, maybe.’

She leaned her head against the seat and gazed at the shadowy landscape flashing by. Lulled by the monotonous hum of the tyres, she stifled a yawn.

‘Sleep if you want, it’s been a really emotional day. It’ll be after midnight by the time we get home,’ Thys said.

Annamari closed her eyes and tried to make sense of the afternoon’s dramatic events. So much for the so-called Truth Commission.After all the shouting and questions and probing and still more questions, the truth, the real truth, about why and how her family had been slaughtered remained shrouded in a thick haze of lies and evasions. That disgusting little murdering rapist had insisted through numerous high-pitched objections and interjections from Afrikaner Ally that he had won the freedom struggle almost on his own and killing th
e
boer
s
on Steynspruit had been a vital element in that struggle and that was the honest truth so help me God.

The smarmy Indian lawyer, Mr Naidoo, had continued to speak over Afrikaner Ally’s objections, insisting that his clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, had once again done nothing more than obey instructions from their APLA commanders.

‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, were indeed most surprised when Mr Strydom made contact with them again so many, many years after their last transaction,’ Mr Naidoo said. ‘Indeed, it was fortuitous, most fortuitous that my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, were even in Mamelodi when Mr Strydom arrived, out of the blue, wanting to buy another AK47.’

Afrikaner Ally shrieked, Stefan Smit shouted, Tutu-Two barked at them to keep quiet, but Mr Naidoo just carried on without missing a beat. ‘This time, because the targets were prope
r
boer
s
on a proper farm, and because Mr Strydom said they kept many weapons which my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, could ... um... liberate for APLA, they agreed to travel to Steynspruit on the night in question to meet Mr Strydom and collect the weapons that Mr Strydom had told them were stored in the farmhouse. My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, made arrangements to take these weapons across the border into Lesotho where they would hand them over to the APLA command there. But Mr Strydom had deceived them because there were no weapons to be found. Only a shotgun and two hand guns and very little ammunition. But I am getting ahead of myself, my most sincere apologies.’

‘Well, that was true,’ Annamari thought. Her parents had never kept much in the way of firepower on the farm at all. Her father had always said it would only attract unwanted attention. In fact, he had ensured that word was spread throughout the district that Steynspruit only had sufficient weapons for self-defence. Well, he had been wrong about that.

‘All went according to plan,’ Mr Naidoo continued. ‘When my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, arrived at Steynspruit on the night of 15 June, 1989, everything had been prepared. Mr Strydom had cut a hole in the security fence and my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, were able to gain access to the farm. Mr Strydom had also disabled the radio and alarm system; and he had silenced the dogs.’

Annamari heaved. So it had been Stefan Smit who had poisoned the dogs; Stefan Smit who had slit Kaptein’s throat. Thys put his arm around her but she pulled herself upright and spat spears of loathing at the filthy piece of cowardly shit cowering behind his tarty lawyer’s tight skirt. Stefan looked back and his thin lips twisted into a sly grin that spliced his skeletal features, revealing yellowed, broken teeth.

But Afrikaner Ally was up on her high heels once again, squealing that her client had not touched the dogs – that he had no idea what had happened to the dogs until they had been found by the police. ‘He was heartbroken,’ Afrikaner Ally insisted. ‘He loved those dogs.’

‘Like hell he loved them,’ Annamari hissed. ‘He was always kicking them when Ma and Pa weren’t looking. I know. Christo told me.’

Thys patted her hand but she snatched it away and glared at Stefan Smit who winked at her and ran his tongue over his pale bottom lip. Annamari clamped her hand over her mouth and hurtled out her chair, out the door, and across the foyer to the Ladies. Fortunately, the toilet cubicle was unoccupied.

Thys was waiting anxiously for her when she emerged, patting her hands on her skirt.

‘Are you okay
,
liefi
e
? You look very pale.’

She nodded, mortified that she had not been able to control herself in front of that monster. She hoped Beauty would never find out how weak she had been.

‘The Chairman wants to know if you are able to carry on – or whether you would like an adjournment until tomorrow?’

‘I’m fine. Let’s get this nightmare over with,’ Annamari said and, wiping a drop of water from her chin, she strode back into the hall, praying she wouldn’t trip.

***

Annamari opened her eyes and turned her head towards her husband. His hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, but she could just make out his frown of concentration. This stretch of road could be treacherous at night. Large sections were pitted with an assortment of growing potholes. If they hit one and had to stop to change a tyre, it could be dangerous, especially as Thys had left his little revolver at home. He would not have been able to take it into the hearing. She had read i
n
Die Volksbla
d
just a few weeks ago about a family that had been left stranded for hours on the side of the road after stopping to change a tyre. The good Samaritans who had offered to help them had driven off with their vehicle as well as all their luggage, money and cell phones. Of course, Thys also had to avoid the cows that wandered around the vast seemingly uninhabited landscape and drifted across the unfenced road. Hit one, Annamari knew, and the uninhabited landscape would quickly transform into a seething mass of very angry locals.

‘Thys, do you think we will ever know what really happened? Or do you think they will just keep on lying and lying?’

‘Oh they will keep lying. Probably. Even if one of them does decide to tell the truth one day, how will we know it is the truth? But who knows? They say that the truth will always come out.’

Annamari hoped that wasn’t true. She wanted it to be true for the Steynspruit attack, of course. But sometimes, she knew, it was better if the truth stayed hidden. She prayed that one day Stefan Smit and the others would find it in themselves to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but. Of course she did. But she knew that would never happen. She knew only too well that sometimes a lie just got too big to be reduced to the truth
.

‘In John 8:23 it says that the Truth will set you free,’ Thys said. ‘I doubt that was meant to be taken literally, but think about it, isn’t that what this whole amnesty thing is about? Tell the truth and be set free? However, I don’t think John or whoever wrote the bible had the Amnesty Commission in mind when he exhorted us to tell the truth.’ He barked a short laugh and Annamari giggled, although it really wasn’t funny but it was so like Thys to try and distract her.

He reached over and patted her knee. ‘Frankly, I think only the Lord will ever know the truth of what happened on Steynspruit that night. I’m so sorry
,
liefi
e
.’

They drove on in silence. Annamari’s eyes closed and she was drifting between sleep and wakefulness when Thys spoke again, so quietly, she could barely hear. ‘Oh Lord, if you are listening, forgive us. Forgive us for our lies and deceptions. One day we will all have to face You and account for what we have done. Forgive us.’

Annamari crossed her fingers and turned her head away, blinking rapidly as tears threatened to spill down her burning face. It was so like Thys to pray for sinners. She wondered if Thys was praying for Stefan Smit. She hoped he was. She was sure he was. He could not possibly be praying for all liars. Like her. Could he?