The Garden of Burning Sand (27 page)

“Precisely. And this is the problem, is it not? No one knows who
actually
defiled the child? All you can say is that the child
was
, in fact, defiled, am I right?”

Backed into a corner, the doctor barely contained his rage. “In the past ten years I have handled at least five thousand cases of child sexual assault. Every time I testify, you lawyers say the same thing. DNA was supposed to change that. Conveniently for your client, the evidence vanished. At this point, the best I can say is that
some
man raped Kuyeya.”

Luchembe took his seat, looking supremely satisfied, and the judge dismissed Dr. Chulu from the stand. On his way out of the courtroom, the doctor mouthed a silent apology to Zoe. She mustered a reassuring smile that patently belied her feelings. He had done his best to pin the rape on Darious, but it hadn’t made a bit of difference.

The trial resumed after a brief recess, and Sarge called Joseph to the stand. They quickly dispensed with the basics—Doris’s police report, finding Given, collecting the doll and glasses from the alleyway and returning them to Kuyeya—and then moved into the heart of the prosecution’s case against Darious.

“When did you decide to focus your attention on the accused?” Sarge asked.

In crisp, straightforward language, Joseph described his discovery of the Lusaka Golf Club crest, Zoe’s encounter with the silver Mercedes at the Intercontinental Hotel, and their pursuit of Darious to his home in Kabulonga. He got into a tussle with Luchembe over the relevance of Darious’s visits to Alpha Bar and his affinity for prostitutes, but Mubita allowed the testimony on Sarge’s certification that its relevance would soon become apparent.

“When you were observing the accused at Alpha, did you notice anything peculiar about him?” Sarge asked, honing in on a critical link in the case.

Joseph nodded. “He was very thin. He only drank two beers, but he used the bathroom four times. He also had markings on his face and his neck consistent with Kaposi’s sarcoma.”

“Objection!” Luchembe cried. “The officer is not a physician.”

The judge narrowed his eyes. “Officer Kabuta, please confine yourself to observations, and leave the opinions to experts.”

“Did your
observations
have any significance to you?” Sarge asked.

Joseph took a deep breath. “The accused looked sick. My sister had the same symptoms before she died.”

Sarge softened his voice. “How did your sister die?”

“She had AIDS,” Joseph said simply.

Luchembe exploded to his feet. “Your Worship, this testimony is
scurrilous
. I will not permit the prosecution to impugn my client’s reputation with this horrid speculation.”

Mubita regarded Joseph with a mixture of annoyance and sympathy. “I’m very sorry about your sister, but I’m going to disregard your surmise about the accused’s health. I meant what I said about confining yourself to observations.”

Joseph stared at the judge for a long moment, his eyes clouded with mistrust. Then he turned back to Sarge, who redirected the conversation.

“You were the officer who made the arrest?” asked the prosecutor.

“I led the arresting party, but there were three other officers with me.”

“You did so without a warrant?”

“The statute doesn’t require a warrant. But I’m very careful. I never make an arrest until I have evidence that will hold up in court. In this case, I took pictures of the accused and his SUV and showed them to Given and Dominic. They told me what they told you today.”

“When you made the arrest, did the accused say anything to you?”

Joseph nodded. “He laughed at us.”

Sarge raised his eyebrows. “He
laughed
at you?”

“He said our guns were so old they would probably explode in our hands.”

“Did he resist arrest?”

Joseph shook his head. “He came to the station and answered my questions. He claimed to have an alibi for the night in question.”

“I have nothing further for this witness,” Sarge said.

Benson Luchembe stood and began to pace at the edge of the bar. For a moment, Zoe worried that he had something on Joseph, some devastating secret that would discredit the entire investigation. But her
concern was dispelled when Luchembe began to speak. His cross-examination was an exercise in sniping. Like a song stuck in an endless loop, he repeated variations on the refrain “you have no way of being certain” so many times that Zoe began to fidget. Joseph, however, parried each thrust, using his answers to reiterate his prior testimony. By the time Luchembe realized his miscalculation, it was too late: Mubita had heard Joseph make the same points twice.

When Luchembe relinquished the floor, the judge checked his watch wearily. “It’s nearly seventeen hundred hours. Sarge, how many more witnesses do you have today?”

“Just one, Your Worship.”

Mubita took a breath. “In that case, we will take an hour recess for dinner.” He rose from his seat and lumbered down the steps, preceding Timothy into chambers.

Joseph sat down beside Zoe. “How’d I do?”

She smiled encouragingly. “He didn’t touch you.”

He grazed her knee with his fingers. “An hour gives you more time to prepare Doris.”

She nodded. “I have a feeling she’s going to need it.”

“Pass along a tip for me. Tell her to imagine Luchembe as a baboon.”

Zoe began to giggle. “Is that what you did?”

Joseph grinned wryly. “The surest way to defeat an interrogator is to mock him.

” When the trial resumed, Sarge called Doris to the stand. Zoe walked swiftly to the exit, ignoring Frederick Nyambo’s stare, and texted Maurice. Seconds later, the driver walked down the lamp-lit arcade with Doris. Dressed in an elegant
chitenge
dress, she could have passed for a politician’s wife. Her face, however, was haggard and lined with apprehension.

All eyes focused on them when they strolled into the courtroom. Darious, who had been slouching in the dock, sat up straighter and needled Doris with his eyes.
The leopard is afraid of the genet because the genet also sees in the dark
, Zoe thought, handing Doris off to Sarge.

“Please tell the Court your name,” he began after she sat in the witness stand.

Doris clasped her hands in her lap and spoke in a clear voice. “I was born Priscilla Kuwema, but people like Darious call me ‘Doris.’”

Sarge affected surprise. “You are familiar with the accused?”

“He was once a client,” she replied, giving the judge a nervous look. “I am a
mahule
. I do not like what I do, but I am poor and the men who gave me daughters refused to marry me.”

Whispers broke out among the defense team, but the judge silenced them with a glare.

“When did you first meet the accused?” Sarge asked.

“Years ago. He was not my client at first; he was a client of a woman who stayed with me. Her name was Charity, but the men called her Bella. Kuyeya is Charity’s daughter.”

“Objection,” said Benson Luchembe. “This case is not about the child’s mother.”

“Your Worship,” Sarge replied, a trace of irritation in his voice, “this case has
everything
to do with the child’s mother.”

The judge frowned at Sarge. “My tolerance has limits. Make the connection soon.”

Sarge regarded Doris. “Please tell the Court about Bella’s relationship with the accused.”

Doris closed her eyes and began to speak. She told Mubita about meeting Charity on the street; about her relationship with Darious and the abrupt manner in which it ended; about the name she called him—
Siluwe
, the leopard; and about her sickness and premature death.

“Did Bella keep any record of her relationship with the accused?”

Doris nodded. “She wrote in a journal. It was her most prized possession.”

Sarge handed her the third volume of Bella’s journal. “Is this the journal?”

“Yes,” Doris said. “I kept it after she died.”

Luchembe stood. “Your Worship, I haven’t had a chance to review the journal, but I’m sure it is full of hearsay.”

The judge gave Sarge a skeptical look. “Are you offering the book into evidence?”

“I am,” replied the prosecutor. “There is no reason to doubt the truthfulness of statements Bella made in her private diary.”

“Even if counsel is right,” Luchembe rejoined, “they are irrelevant to the case.”

Mubita confronted Sarge. “My patience with this line of inquiry is wearing thin. What does the journal have to do with the defilement?”

Sarge bristled. “It helps to establish the motive of the accused. We have evidence that this was not a random crime, that Darious knew Kuyeya and raped her for very clear reasons.”

Luchembe responded quickly. “Your Worship, defilement is a strict liability crime. Motive is irrelevant.”

The judge glared at Sarge. “I will not allow hearsay to undermine this trial; nor will I permit speculation about matters that do not concern the Court.” He paused. “
However
, on your certification, I’m going to take the objection under advisement and decide later.”

In the gallery, Zoe glanced at Joseph, her eyes forming an unspoken question. Mubita’s behavior on the bench made no sense. One moment, he lectured Sarge; the next moment, he gave him a gift.
What are you up to?
she thought, searching Mubita’s face and seeing nothing.

“Did you see the accused again after Bella died?” Sarge inquired.

“A few times,” Doris replied without elaboration.

“When was the last time?”

Doris cast a wary look at Darious. “A few weeks before Kuyeya was attacked. He was sitting in a truck not far from my flat.”

Sarge glanced at the judge. “Did he see you?”

“It is possible.”

“Had he been to your flat before?”

“Many times.”

“Was Kuyeya there when he came to visit?”

“Always.”

Sarge paused. “What happened on the night of the defilement?”

In clipped, wary sentences, Doris told the judge what she had disclosed to Zoe in their first meeting. This time, however, she didn’t hide the fact that she had left Kuyeya with Bright and Gift and gone to the market with a client.

“Do you know how Kuyeya escaped the flat?” Sarge asked.

Doris nodded. “My daughters left the door open.” She looked down at her hands, sorrow etched on her face. “I should have taken better care of her. Lusaka is a dangerous place for girls like her. I should have made sure she was safe.”

As soon as Sarge sat down, Benson Luchembe went on the attack. Doris, however, seemed invulnerable to the onslaught. He accused her of being a criminal, and she replied that if she had committed crimes, so had the police officers, politicians, and lawyers who paid her for sex. He then made the mistake of turning a question about Bella into an argument about the irrelevance of her relationship with Darious. Sarge quickly objected, and the judge sustained it with a frown. After a few
more questions—all of which Doris met with an unflappable calm—Luchembe abandoned his inquisition and took his seat again.

When Sarge declined to redirect, Mubita allowed himself a rare smile. “We will begin again at eight thirty tomorrow. Until then, this Court is in recess.”

Watching the judge walk wearily down the steps, Zoe realized the depth of her own exhaustion. Dizzy from sleeplessness and stress, she was tempted to rest her head on Joseph’s shoulder. She waited until the deputy removed Darious from the dock and Luchembe departed with his entourage before joining Sarge and Niza in congratulating Doris.

Doris appeared overwhelmed by the attention. “Can I go home now?” she asked Zoe.

Zoe nodded and led her toward the exit. “I know that wasn’t pleasant,” she said, “but you were wonderful.”

Doris gave the faintest trace of a laugh. “I did what you told me. I pictured that lawyer as a baboon. After that, it didn’t matter what he said.”

When they reached the arcade, Doris put a hand on her arm. “I have something for Kuyeya.” She rummaged in her bag and took out a ring studded with small emeralds. “It was Bella’s. She used to put it on Kuyeya’s finger before we went out at night.”

Zoe’s heart clutched when she saw the way the emeralds gleamed in the lamplight. She took the ring, appreciating its immense significance.

“I’ll give it to her tomorrow,” she said.

The next morning, Joseph and Zoe drove into Kanyama to fetch Amos, the
nganga
. The rising sun gilded the edges of the compound with molten light, but the spiderweb of lanes remained in shadow. Joseph turned left at the sign bearing Amos’s name and navigated toward the house with the red door. The lane was a hive of activity—pedestrians walking, children playing, old men lounging, women hanging clothes on the line—but the house with the red door was quiet.

“Wasn’t he supposed to be ready?” Zoe asked as Joseph parked beside Amos’s car.

“I texted Bob Wangwe yesterday,” Joseph said, grabbing his rifle from the back seat.

Zoe followed him to the porch. He knocked on the door and called out the
nganga
’s name. When they heard no movement, he grabbed the doorknob. The door popped open.

“Amos!”
Joseph cried, barging into the hopelessly cluttered living room. Close on his heels, Zoe nearly doubled over in disgust. The place smelled like a charnel house.

“Amos!”
he called again, aiming his rifle into the dimly lit kitchen.

When no one appeared, they moved toward the back of the house, taking care to avoid the tables littered with herbs and animal parts. The
stink became so overpowering that Zoe held her nose. Joseph aimed his gun into the bedroom, and Zoe peered into the gloom of the consultation room. She clutched Joseph’s arm. On the floor were two misshapen heaps.

One was the charred carcass of a bird.

The other was Amos.

Joseph went to the window and threw open the curtains.

“Dear God,” Zoe gasped, staring at the deep cut in the
nganga
’s neck.

Joseph knelt down to examine the corpse. He manipulated one of the
nganga
’s fingers. “He’s been dead a few hours. It must have happened overnight.”

“What does the bird mean?” she asked softly, dread churning in her gut.

He looked at the carcass in distaste. “It’s a spell of protection.”

She walked with him into the living room. “At least we have the recorded confession.”

Joseph looked dubious. He punched in a number on his phone. At the sound of the message he clenched his teeth. “Mr. Wangwe, this is Officer Kabuta. Your client was murdered last night. I don’t know where you are, but you need to meet us at the Subordinate Court right away to vouch for the recordings. If you don’t appear, we’ll ask the judge for a contempt order.”

Joseph slid the phone into his jeans, his face fraught with tension.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Zoe asked.

Joseph nodded. “He must have found out.”

“You and I can authenticate the recordings,” she said hopefully.

“We can try,” he replied. “But I’m not sure it’ll be good enough for the judge.”

The trial reconvened precisely on schedule. After taking his seat on
the bench, Flexon Mubita summoned Darious to the dock. “Call your next witness,” he said to Sarge.

“Your Worship,” the prosecutor replied, barely suppressing his anger, “we just learned that the witness we had scheduled to testify this morning—a critical witness in our case—was murdered last night. Officer Kabuta found him in his home.”

Mubita’s jaw went slack and he stared at Sarge transfixed. The fear that haunted his eyes appeared genuine. “Do you have any evidence linking this murder to the accused?”

Sarge shook his head. “We do not.”

Mubita took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “In all my years on the bench, I’ve never seen anything like this. Do you want an adjournment? I’ll give you one.”

Sarge shook his head. “No, Your Worship. Officer Kabuta recorded the witness’s testimony months ago. We wish to offer the recordings into evidence.”

Mubita raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Your Worship,” said Benson Luchembe, leaping to his feet, “the violence we have seen in the past two days is reprehensible. But counsel’s proposition has grave implications for my client’s defense. If the witness doesn’t appear, how can I cross-examine him? The accused would be sorely prejudiced by the admission of an unverified recording. And it is my client’s freedom, not the prosecution’s, that is at stake in this proceeding.”

The judge glared at Luchembe, but he offered no rebuke. Instead, he asked Sarge, “How do you propose to verify the recordings?”

“Four people were present when they were made,” Sarge replied. “The deceased, his attorney, Bob Wangwe, Officer Kabuta, and Ms. Fleming. Mr. Wangwe had agreed to appear at this hearing, but it seems he’s disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Mubita said, narrowing his eyes.

“We haven’t been able to reach him. The best I can do is offer the testimony of Officer Kabuta and Ms. Fleming. Both of their voices are on the tape.”

The judge cleared his throat. “If the officer certifies the authenticity of the recordings, I’ll accept them under advisement. I need to look at the law on this.”

Sarge sighed visibly. “Very well. I call Joseph Kabuta to the stand.”

In the end, the judge allowed the recordings to be aired in open court. Sarge placed the recording device on counsel table, turned up the volume, and pressed play. The static echoed in the vaulted space, then Joseph made his introductions. When he identified the witness by name—Dr. Mwenya Amos—Darious motioned hastily to Luchembe, and Zoe caught the worry in his eyes.
You didn’t know?
she thought, fascinated.
That means your parents are calling all the shots
.

Luchembe seemed off balance, but he righted himself quickly. “I was not aware the witness was a physician,” he objected, as Sarge paused the recording. “I’m concerned that this testimony invades the doctor-patient privilege.”

“Your Worship,” Sarge interjected, “the privilege is subject to judicial discretion. If the testimony relates to irrelevant matters, you can disregard it. But I respectfully request that you permit the recording to be played in its entirety. It is critical to our case.”

The judge furrowed his brow wearily. “Go ahead.”

Luchembe settled into his chair and didn’t speak again. Darious, however, grew increasingly agitated as Amos recounted his concern about AIDS, the course of his treatment, the fears he harbored about his father, and his hatred of the unnamed
mahule
who had bewitched his family with “strife and pain” and left him with a deadly disease.

In the midst of the testimony, Zoe glanced at Frederick in the back row. He looked irritated but unconcerned. She tuned in to the recording again as Amos described Darious’s last visit, only a month before the rape—his obsession with the curse of the
mahule
, his fixation on virgin cleansing, and his uncompromising resolve to “bewitch the witch.”

“Those were his exact words?” Joseph asked, his voice echoing in the courtroom.

“It is not the sort of thing a person forgets,” Amos replied.

When the judge asked Sarge to call his next witness, the prosecutor nodded at Zoe.
Here we go
, she thought, standing up and walking toward the exit. Over her shoulder, she heard him say: “I call Kuyeya Mizinga to the stand.”

At this declaration, war broke out between the attorneys over Kuyeya’s capacity to testify. Luchembe cried foul, citing Dr. Mbao’s initial evaluation, and Sarge defended on the basis of her more recent conclusions. He offered the Court an affidavit from the psychiatrist stating that Kuyeya could answer simple questions. Luchembe demanded a chance to cross-examine the psychiatrist, and Sarge countered, arguing that the affidavit was sufficient.

Zoe left the courtroom and met Sister Irina on the courthouse steps. The St. Francis van was idling at the curb, Sister Anica behind the wheel.

“How is she?” Zoe inquired, looking at Kuyeya through the window.

“She wet the bed last night,” Sister Irina said. “And this morning she was disoriented. But she is happy now. She is listening to your music.”

“We need to get another opinion about her health. I’ll talk to Joy Herald about scheduling an appointment at a private clinic. Do you have the doll?”

The nun lifted the bag she was carrying. “I also brought a wheelchair. I’m concerned about her falling again.”

“Good idea,” Zoe responded, opening the van door. She greeted Kuyeya and helped her out of the seat, taking care not to tangle her headphones. As soon as the girl was situated in the wheelchair, Zoe pushed her up the ramp and down the arcade to the courtroom.

A hush fell upon the gallery when they entered. From the satisfied look on Sarge’s face, Zoe knew that Dr. Mbao’s affidavit had opened the door to Kuyeya’s testimony. Zoe maneuvered the wheelchair to a spot beside the witness stand and gently removed the headphones. She took off the girl’s glasses, too, handing everything to Sarge. It was a move they had prearranged. They didn’t want Kuyeya to see Darious too soon.

“Your Worship,” Sarge said, “for the child’s comfort, I ask that you permit her principal caretaker, Sister Irina, to sit beside her.”

“I will allow that,” said the judge. “Come forward, Sister.”

After the nun took her seat, Sarge moved his chair close to the stand. “Hello there,” he said to Kuyeya. “You’re wearing a pretty dress today. Can you tell me your name?”

The girl rocked a bit and then said, “Kuyeya.”

Zoe let out the breath she was holding. In the past month, she and Sarge had visited Kuyeya three times to prepare her for trial. The girl had been distant at first, unwilling to look at Sarge or answer his questions. Over time, and with urging from Dr. Mbao, she had opened up to him. But a courtroom full of strangers was a world away from the garden at St. Francis. Zoe had feared she would freeze.

“That’s a nice name,” Sarge said softly. “What is your mommy’s name?”

Kuyeya brightened. “Mommy is Charity.”

Sarge nodded. “Did your mommy tell you stories?”

“Mommy tells stories,” she said. “The bee-eater and hippo are friends.”

Sarge smiled. “Was there a river in your mommy’s stories?”

Kuyeya clutched her monkey and didn’t answer.

He tried a leading approach. “Is it the Yangtze?”

The girl thought about this. After a moment, she shook her head.

“Is it the Zambezi?”

Kuyeya’s eyes caught the light. “The bee-eater and hippo live on the Zambezi.”

Sarge faced the judge. “Your Worship, I submit that the child is capable of answering simple questions. I have only a few that I wish to ask.”

Benson Luchembe stood. “For the record I must object. Does the prosecution plan to put all of the answers in the child’s mouth?”

The judge looked at Sarge. “You may only lead the witness to establish a foundation. Beyond that, you have to abide by the rules of evidence.”

Sarge nodded and focused again on Kuyeya. “Your mommy taught you stories. I bet she taught you a lot of things. Did your mommy teach you about men?”

Kuyeya’s eyes crossed, then resolved. “I don’t like men.”

“Why don’t you like men?” Sarge asked, keeping his voice gentle.

Kuyeya began to rock again. “Men are bad.”

Zoe leaned forward. This is as far as the girl had ever been willing to go in talking about the rape.
You can do it. Tell the judge what he did to you
.

“Why are men bad?” Sarge asked.

Kuyeya’s rocking increased and she let out a groan.

Sarge persisted: “Did your mommy tell you that men might touch you?”

Suddenly, the girl found her voice: “Men not supposed to touch. Mommy can touch, but men not supposed to touch.”

“Kuyeya,” Sarge went on, using a soothing tone, “did a man touch you where only your mommy was supposed to touch?”

Kuyeya’s groaning took on greater urgency and Zoe grimaced. She had heard the sound before—in the examination room on the night of the rape.

“Do you have the doll?” Sarge asked Sister Irina.

It was then that Zoe remembered something. She couldn’t believe she had forgotten. She launched to her feet and said,
“Wait!”

All eyes in the courtroom focused on her. Sarge frowned. The judge squinted at her. A couple of Luchembe’s underlings began to whisper.

“Your Worship,” Zoe said, breaching every protocol in the book, “I request a brief recess to confer with counsel.”

Mubita’s squint deepened into a scowl. “Ms. Fleming, must I remind you that you are not a member of the Zambian bar? I do not appreciate interruptions.”

Heart racing, Zoe adopted her most unctuous tone. “I understand, Your Worship, but it’s very important that I have a word with Mr. Zulu before he proceeds. Five minutes is all I ask.”

Mubita stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “I’ll give you grace this one time. Five minutes then.” He departed the courtroom in a flurry of robes.

Zoe ignored the sniggering of Luchembe’s legal team and wheeled Kuyeya out to the arcade. Sister Irina, Joseph, and the two CILA lawyers followed in her wake. They regrouped in a quiet spot beside a patch of grass.

“That was quite a stunt you pulled,” Niza said.

Zoe nodded, feeling the weight of her gamble. “Hear me out. If you give her the doll, she’ll get upset and say what we expect: ‘The
man is bad. Baby is not bad.’ It’s dramatic and worth some sympathy, but it won’t point the finger at Darious.”

Zoe reached into her pocket and took out the emerald ring. “Doris gave this to me last night. It was Charity’s. I want to give it to Kuyeya now, and then I want you to put her glasses on and let her confront Darious. I have no idea what she’ll do, but it may be our only chance to get useful testimony out of her.”

Sarge looked skeptical. “Let’s see how she responds to the ring.”

Zoe knelt down in front of the wheelchair and brought her face close to Kuyeya’s. “I have a present from your mommy,” she said, holding up the ring. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

Kuyeya’s reaction surpassed all of Zoe’s hopes. Her mouth stretched into a wide smile and laughter bubbled out of her. She cupped the ring in her hands as if it were a living thing.

“Mommy loves me,” she said between chuckles. “Mommy will be home soon.” Her voice trailed off, but she whispered the last two words over and over again like a prayer. “Home soon … Home soon … Home soon.”