White Dog Fell From the Sky (21 page)

“Your friend was with the
ANC?”

“I cannot say,
rra
.”

“If you cannot say, he was. Then it is
likely that you also are with the ANC.”

“I am not with the ANC.”

The two men held a conversation at a
distance from where Isaac was standing. He could hear the younger one saying that Isaac
was lying and the older one neither agreeing nor disputing. In the end, they decided
Isaac would be taken to the chief of police. He hoped the old one would take him. He
thought he could persuade him on the way to let him go. But it was not to be. He was too
fat and tired and didn’t wish to walk to town.

“Come,” said the younger one. He
handed Isaac Nthusi’s shoes, which he put on. He had no handcuffs, so he tied a
rope tightly around both Isaac’s wrists and held it in his hand. Isaac followed
him like a goat on a tether. The guard did not wish to walk side by side. All the same,
Isaac tried to talk to him. He asked if he was from Gaborone.

“Francistown,” he muttered.

“You grew up there?”

He was not wishing to talk further.

When they were almost to town, Isaac tripped
over a rock in the road. It would not have made him fall down if he’d eaten and
slept.
The policeman was angry, thinking that he had fallen on
purpose. “Get up!” he shouted. “Why do you do this?”

The chief of police had not yet arrived when
they reached the station. The young policeman and Isaac sat down to wait. Isaac asked
for water, but he did not dare to ask for anything else.

When the chief arrived, his secretary
brought him a cup of milk tea, and various subordinates went in and out of his office.
Finally, Isaac was taken to see him. The policeman who caught him began his story by
saying that Isaac was with the ANC and had been found stealing at the house. By telling
it this way, Isaac knew he was trying to make himself important, as though he’d
caught a big fish, but anyone with any brains could see that he, Isaac, was nothing like
a big fish.

The chief looked at him steadily. His eyes
seemed large, a little bulging, and between his eyebrows was a deep line. He had short
cropped hair and a long face. He didn’t give anything away with his face. It was
not a bad person’s face, but it was closed. He waved the young policeman quiet
when he tried to tell the story. “Take off that rope,” he said. “You
may go now.”

The young policeman left the room. Isaac
felt that he must be disappointed because he had been trying hard to make a good
impression. He relaxed a little after the guard left, his wrists free, but when the
chief began asking him questions, the same questions that the older guard had asked him
back at the house, he became full of fear. He answered him honestly, and his heart beat
in the back of his eyes until he could no longer see properly.

After he’d answered all the questions
about the money, about why he was living in Naledi, the chief took a new tack. “If
you were living in Naledi, why were you not there on the night of the
shootings?”

Isaac told him that he was staying in the
house in the Old Village while the madam was on a trip.

“Where was her husband?”

“He was not there.” He
didn’t want to say they were living separately in case madam wished to keep that
information private.

“You were staying in the
servant’s quarters?”

“No,
rra,
I was sleeping in the
main house.”

“Why is this, when you are an
employee?”

This man was an expert rat catcher, good at
sniffing things out. “The servants’ quarter is occupied.”

“Then why was the servant not watching
the house instead of you?”

“She was away visiting her
mother.”

“Then the servant’s quarters
were empty so you could have stayed there.”

His hunger and tiredness pulled him down. He
would be found guilty of something, it didn’t matter what. “The servant did
not wish me to be there.”

“Because she did not trust
you?”

“No,
rra,
she does not care
for men.” The ghost of a smile crossed the chief’s lips. “Or, rather,
she cares for men, but …” It was too complicated to explain.

“So you were staying in the main
house. I see.” Isaac thought maybe it would be all right then, but the chief was
waiting to strike.

He dropped his voice. “Your timing was
perfect,” he said.

“I beg your pardon,
rra
?”

“Who is your mistress? Is she also
with the ANC?”

“I am not with the ANC,
rra
.”

“Who are you working for?”

“Her name is Mrs. A.
Mendelssohn.”

“She is South African?”

“No,
rra,
she is from the
United States.”

“Her husband is South
African?”

“I do not know,
rra
.”

“Does he visit South Africa
regularly?”

“I do not know this,
rra
.”

“I thought you said you worked for
them.”

“
Ee, rra,
but I do not know
where he goes.”

“So he does go away on a regular
basis.” Isaac could see that the chief thought he was getting somewhere. He also
saw, with a blur of surprise, that he had only one eye. The other eye was made of glass
and roamed around. Sometimes it looked where the good eye looked.
Sometimes it went somewhere else. It made Isaac unsteady, as though he might need to
vomit.

“He has been away for some
time,” Isaac said.

The vertical line between his eyebrows
deepened. “In South Africa?”

“I do not know this,
rra
.”

“Has he taken you on any of his
trips?”

“No,
rra
.”

“Has he spoken with you about his
work?”

“No,
rra
. I do not know him
well.”

“But you know the missus well? You
know her quite well?”

Isaac saw what the chief was getting at and
felt himself grow angry. “She is not involved,” he said, the heat rising
into his face. “She is not involved at all.”

“Then you are involved,” he
said.

“Involved in what?”

“What you were speaking of.”

“No,
rra,
I too am not
involved.”

“How long have you been in
Botswana?”

“Eight months.”

“Long enough to get the lay of the
land.”

“Excuse me,
rra
?”

“You were living with ANC people, but
conveniently you were not there on the night when you knew there would be a raid by the
South African Defense Force. You are a clever man, anyone can see that. You have been
playing one side against the other.”

“No,
rra,
I am only a
gardener.”

“You are working with the South
African Defense Force, isn’t that it? You are a double agent.”

“No,
rra.
”

“You are telling me that you are not a
double agent?”

“I don’t know what this is,
double agent.”

“Then how do you know enough to say
you are not when you did not know what it was?”

“I only work for the madam in the Old
Village. No one else.”

“Your story is too simple. Where is
your passport?”

“I have no passport.”

“How did you get into
Botswana?”

“I traveled by car.”

“Why were you not stopped at the
border?”

“I was hiding.”

“Where?”

“It’s best if I don’t say,
rra.
”

“You are protecting someone. Who would
that be?”

“I cannot say,
rra
.”
Thinking better of it, he said, “I traveled in a hearse, hidden under the body of
a Botswana government official who became late before I left South Africa.”

“You are not a good liar. That is
impossible. You were in the casket?”

“No,
rra.
Please, sir, I only
wish to live my life. I am harming no one.” He thought of White Dog waiting for
him at the gate. And the cats hungry. “Please let me go now. I am supposed to be
looking after the garden and the house in the Old Village. There is no one there to do
these things.”

The chief looked at him with his good eye
while the glass eye looked at the floor. His cheeks were hanging, as though he had not
slept well. Isaac could see he didn’t know what to do with him. “I need to
make a phone call,” he said.

He left the room. Perhaps Isaac could have
escaped but it seemed that the chief trusted him not to. Besides, where could he have
gone? To run was to admit guilt, and he could not fulfill his duties if he was in
hiding. His fate was in this chief’s hands. They were small hands, he’d
noticed. He was a man who wielded power, but he did not look like a bold man to Isaac.
More like someone who tried to stay out of trouble, however he might do that. In this,
Isaac saw little hope. In that he had one eye and knew what it was to suffer, he saw a
grain of hope.

He was gone a long time. Isaac’s eyes
became heavy and his heart fell into despair. He expected he would go to the prison
where the old man with the sunken garden had been. Perhaps he would work in the garden
and become proficient with plants. He would be an old man when they set him free, his
whole life wasted.

The chief returned. He sat down as though he
weighed twice as
much as a man of his size. He looked at Isaac.
“I believe that you are not telling the truth. I believe that you are a double
agent. Botswana is a peace-loving country. We cannot harbor people such as yourself. You
are a danger to us. I am sending you back across the border.” His good eye
twitched once as he said this.

Isaac was stunned, without words for a
moment. Then he said, “Please,
rra,
they will kill me there. Let me stay
here. I risked my life to come here.”

The chief was not a man who changed his
mind, although Isaac thought he saw a small flicker of misgiving in his face.

As two policemen led him away, Isaac
wondered whether there was any point at which he might have saved himself. If Kopano and
he had not stood on that train platform. If he had not met Amen on the path. If he had
not fallen a little in love with Amen’s wife. If he had eaten and slept the day
after the shooting and not become small brained like that bird who fell down the chimney
into the jaws of a cat.

They told him to wait. They were searching
for a car to take him across the border. He sat on a bench wearing handcuffs, beyond
hunger. His head hung low. He counted on his fingers the days before madam would be
back. Five days. White Dog and Horse and Mr. Magoo would die. The young tomato plants
and pepper plants would wither and die. She would think that her trust had been
misplaced. He imagined her returning, finding the animals dead, the vegetables dead, the
kitchen untidy, his bed unmade. He would have made everything nice before she returned.
He thought of his mother and Nthusi and his younger brothers and sister. Of Boitumelo
whom he was to marry. He thought of his mother’s employers who had been so kind to
him. He would disappear the way his father had disappeared.

And he thought of Kagiso. His heart was full
of grief. Kagiso had woken in terror and known enough to cover Ontibile’s body
with her own.

Alice’s trip was over. She was next to
the window, looking out. Her frustration was electric, like the spikes of an aloe. As
the group scrambled for vehicles, Ian found his way into the middle seat of the Chevy
beside her. A small part of him was amused, but the larger part wanted to be driving her
wherever she wanted to go.

As Sam climbed into the driver’s seat
and the truck got under way, Ian said to her, “I thought you were going to throw a
wobbler back there.”

“I don’t know what a wobbler
is.” Her voice was curt.

“I thought you might deck
Haddock.”

“He’s just a frightened old
has-been.”

He looked at her. “You feel sorry for
him?”

“Imagine living your whole life like
that. It would be like living a prison sentence. Did you see his shoes? They’re so
slippery, he can hardly walk.”

“Like a vulture with no toes,”
said Sam.

It came out of the blue. Ian pictured those
lappet-faced vultures with their raw, featherless necks, huge bills, and gimlet eyes.
Alice started laughing and couldn’t stop. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“A vulture,” said Sam again.

“Oh god, Sam, stop,” she said,
fighting for air. She settled down, but then she started up again.

“Are you okay?” Ian asked.

“No, I can’t stop.”

His asking seemed to sober her up enough to
speak. She grabbed his
hand furtively and said, “I had a
roommate once. She had the loudest laugh in the world. We were in a bar one time. I said
something she thought was funny, and her head went back and she stopped breathing.
I’d never seen anyone do anything like that before. I thought she was choking. She
opened her mouth, and this explosion came out. And then on the intake, she snorted
almost as loud. I was young. So mortified, I thought I’d just crawl out the
door.”

“I knew someone who sneezed like that.
The first
AHH!
was like a scream. And then she said
Choo
.”

“Was she a romantic
interest?”

Her question startled him. “Why do you
ask?”

“I just wondered.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I was
bonkers over her. But we had huge rows. We were sloshed a lot of the time. When I
stopped drinking, which wasn’t for long back then, I saw the light.”

“Her sneeze stopped being so
cute?”

“It never really was cute.” He
wasn’t thinking about that woman. He needed to say something. They’d soon be
in Maun. The next day, they’d be in Nata. She’d be going back to Gaborone.
He’d pick up his Land Rover and drive back the way they’d just come, up to
the Tsodilo Hills.
Don’t go
, he wanted to say.
Come with me.
But
he’d be a right bastard to put that proposition to her, especially with her not
knowing his whole story.