Thokozani S.B. Maseko - Like a Lily on a Mountain, Love Grows on Rocky Terrains

“Thandi, darling,” the man called tenderly, and she opened her eyes. Hannah had been right. “Here’s the woman you asked for.”

Hannah watched Thandi swallow. It was clearly a great endeavour.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

Thandi’s voice was so weak that Hannah could hardly make out the words. She went closer to the mattress, where Thandi could get a good look at her. Perhaps Thandi could tell the men to allow her to take Musa and leave.

“My name is Hannah,” she said sincerely. “I’m here to take the baby.”

Thandi grinned at her softly. She shut her eyes and folded herself.

“Thank you,” she muffled towards the roof. “I’ve been praying you could come. They adore him, but how far can men go in taking care of a baby?”

“We’ve done everything you told us,” the man with the gold teeth said, apparently less terrifying in the ill woman’s presence.

“You and Themba have been truly good, Thabani,” Thandi said, thinking; “but a child needs a mama, and it won’t be much longer before I’m gone.”

Hannah gazed around. No one differed in opinion. The whole thing made no sense to Hannah. Thandi wasn’t Musa’s mother. Why would they bring Musa here? Certainly, they didn’t expect Thandi to take care of someone else’s baby in her state.

“Has she seen a doctor?” Hannah asked. “What’s wrong with her, anyway?”

“The doctor said nothing can be done now,” the younger man said. Themba, began to explain, but Thabani stopped him.

“Quiet,” he said, and Themba frowned but took the instruction. “She’s using something over there,” the man said, pointing to a litre of some concoction.

He gazed at the bottom of the mattress, not at any point did he look at the woman lying on it.

“See,” Hannah began, “I have no idea what’s wrong with her, but it seems to me your wife needs a doctor real soon. Why not just take her to hospital?”

“Hospital?” Thabani giggled. “Nearest hospital is in Siteki, Good Shepherd. Thandi can’t even make it to the wagon in the shed, not to mention all the way to Siteki.”

“Why not call an ambulance? Or call your doctor again, at least. Perhaps he can recommend something over the phone.”

Themba glared at her as if she had implied that they take Thandi to Good Shepherd on a bicycle. Thabani just grunted.

“You’re from the big city, aren’t you?”

Hannah turned around. It was the third man speaking. She hadn’t even seen or heard him follow them, but the younger one’s nippy steps jingled so noisily that it was difficult to hear anything else when he moved. This was the second time that the man had sneaked behind her, and the cold that crept up her vertebrae wasn’t from the freezing night this time.

He started again. “I haven’t got a phone out here,” his revolting pockmarks running up and down his face, and he turned so that they sparkled on what little light there was.

“Don’t have anything here,” Thandi said, her eyes set on Hannah; “not a thing, but sickness and death. Thabani get me some water please?”

Thabani walked over to the bedside and filled a cup with water from a little pail. Tenderly, he held Thandi’s head and placed the plastic cup to her lips.

“Your wife looks very ill,” Hannah said. “Can’t you ask to use your neighbour’s phone?”

“She isn’t my wife,” Thabani said, the gold teeth catching the paraffin lamp light and shooting sparks in the dim light.

“And we haven’t got any neighbours,” Themba said, a grin disturbing the corners of his mouth.

“Is she yours?” Hannah asked the third man, whose name was still not known to her.

He appeared the most composed of the three, but in that tranquillity, prowled a restiveness that made her more scared of him than the rest.

“No,” he responded, standing against the door frame as if he didn’t mind a thing in this world.

His eyes ran over the ill woman’s figure, revealing the fine side of his face, nearly fine-looking in the dim light. Hannah felt his eyes turn to her, but when she gazed at his eyes, they were fixed on the far end of the room, as if the shades held some appeal for him.

“Anyway, whosoever’s woman she is, she appears pretty damn sick,” Hannah said.

“You have a big mouth, girl,” the man responded. “Where are you from, anyway?”

“Yes,” Themba seconded. “How did you locate this place, huh? How did she find us, Mandla?”

Thandi stretched out and put her hand on Hannah’s. It was warm to the touch, and Hannah placed the flipside of her free hand over Thandi’s brow. Not surprising, the lady was extremely hot.

“I dropped from above, actually,” Hannah answered, a note of frustration apparent in her voice. She considered her answer. It was a fact, almost. “What difference does it make? We’ve got to act fast to rescue … this woman. Whose woman is she, anyway?”

“Her man is dead,” the third man said, leaving the wall and taking a few steps into the room. “Died right after … well, you could say on his wedding night.”

The three men laughed, and Hannah glanced down at Thandi enquiringly.

“You came from above, did you?” Thandi asked, paying less attention to the men.

It took great effort to say those words. Thabani placed the cup of water to her mouth again and elevated her head a little, to help her sip from it. He shot a look at Hannah, pleading with her to mutely concur with Thandi. The dog barked outside, a lonely, eerie call that crept down Hannah’s back.

She smiled at the woman, who looked only twenty or so. “Yes,” she agreed, “I did.”

“And you were sent to take care of my child?” Thandi asked, her breathing strenuous and her hand falling away from Hannah’s.

“I was instructed to …” Hannah gazed around the room.

Themba’s eyes were filled with tears, and the man they called Thabani gaped at a crevice in the roof. The last one, Mandla, turned and quietly left the room.

“I … e-e-h …,” Hannah stumbled, but she was disturbed by the man’s return with a sleepy baby whose closed fists lingered over his eyes, rubbing them. He seemed nothing beyond eleven, twelve months old.

Thandi started to cough hysterically, but the child was oblivious that his mother was drifting away, he still stretched himself out to her, and Hannah’s arms reached out of their own accord as she stepped forward and took the child from the man’s hands. She remained with him by the door, rubbing his back while his heavy head knocked against her chest as he attempted to fight sleep in vain.

It was Musa, that was certain.

“The lovely Lord brought you here to take care of my child, didn’t he?” Thandi pleaded, between coughs. “And you guys are aware that the good Lord will without fail put you to ruin just as certain as he’s punishing me if you upset a single hair of this seraph’s head. That’s the reason you’re here, Hannah, isn’t it? God sent you for this baby …”

Hannah contemplated the matter as she kissed the boy’s brow and smelled the balmy sweet odour of the sleepy baby. The baby found his thumb without difficulty in his sleep and he began sucking on it. That and the spluttering of the kerosene lamp were the only perceivable sounds in the house. Who knew better about punishment from God?

“Yes,” she said, just loud enough for herself and the woman approaching death in the tiny bed near her.

She tried to disregard the fact that the man who had fetched the baby now held a gun to her head. In any case, if he really wanted to do it, he’d have first made sure that the child was safe, not with her.

“Take Mashwa (Misfortune) back to his bed,” he instructed Themba. “And then show the girl a bed.”