Does it Hurt to Die (18 page)

Christian could hardly sleep that night. He kept feeling Isabella’s hands around his eyes and smelling her perfume. After reassuring himself that she probably had a boyfriend and that he was here to learn as much about his father as possible, sleep finally intervened. In the morning, he was awoken by the birds outside his window and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. As he made his way out on
to the stoep, to where he knew the coffee would be, he heard the phone ring.

‘
Probably Isabella,’ said Mike, ruffling Christian’s hair.

‘
Darling, stop teasing him, otherwise he’ll think you’re really fond of him. He’s only just arrived, so that can’t be possible,’ said Sian, looking at Christian mischievously.

‘
By the way, Christian, your mother phoned last night to make sure you’re OK. She said that there’d be an e-mail for you this morning and asked whether you could give her more details about the man you met on the plane so she could make some enquiries for you. We also had a phone call from someone who called himself Marais, who said he had met you on the plane. He left a contact number in Stellenbosch. I guess he’s the same person.’

‘
Thanks, Sian. He’s also trying to establish his roots. He was born somewhere in the greater Cape Town area and was then sent to an orphanage in Malawi when he was very young.’

‘
Well, why don’t you and Isabella drive to Stellenbosch and meet Marais for lunch? There’s a beautiful old Cape Dutch hotel called the Lanzerac where you could meet. It’s where we all used to go sometimes during the winter, sitting around a log fire and drinking port when we had enough money to spend. It’s also not far from the farm where your father grew up and you could possibly go and visit that in the afternoon.’

‘
Sounds like a plan,’ said Christian, utilising the South African vernacular.

Ruby protested when Christian tried to take the dishes out to the kitchen. Mike rescued Christian from his dilemma of doing nothing by suggesting that he give Nadine a call to find out whether Isabella was available to go with him to Stellenbosch.

‘And don’t forget to e-mail or call your mother first. We promised her we’d remind you,’ said Mike.

In Mike’s study, Christian checked his webmail to see what his mother had written. She was mostly reassuring about the weather but did not mention Marais, other than being unable to find anyone in her family who knew him. She was still waiting to hear back from several people, who were related to his grandfather, who might know. Christian e-mailed her that he was OK and thoroughly enjoying Mike and Sian’s company. Nevertheless, he chose not to tell her about Isabella. He thought he would wait until they were able to Skype, and hopefully then he would be more composed talking about Isabella.

He picked up the phone and dialled Nadine’s number. ‘Hello!’ said Christian a little tentatively, uncertain who was at the other end.

‘
Hello, Christian,’ replied Nadine. ‘I hear you had an interesting day yesterday.’

Christian wondered how much Isabella had told her. With Isabella’s openness, he thought, probably everything!

‘Umm, yes, really great,’ he squeezed out.

‘
What was your impression of Groote Schuur Hospital—the new one?’

‘
Really impressive, Mrs…’

‘
Please call me Nadine, Christian,’ she interrupted. ‘Mrs seems to me like someone who is nondescript and uninteresting; but thank you for the courtesy.’

He said nothing, trying to decide whether Nadine’s informality indicated that this was a genetic trait which she shared with her daughter.

‘I’m sorry, Christian. I was trying to put you at ease. Isabella said you were going out to eat tonight.’

‘
Yes, that’s right,’ said Christian, regaining his composure a little, ‘but I wondered whether she was available to come with me to Stellenbosch today.’

‘
I don’t know, Christian. She’s not working for me today, so it’s possible. I’ll put her on in a second and then you can ask her yourself; but watch out for that daughter of mine,’ said Nadine. ‘If she likes you, you’re a friend for life, and then you also have to put up with me.’

Christian laughed and said
, ‘I’m sure that would be no hardship at all Mrs… sorry, Nadine.’

Christian heard Nadine quietly laugh before she said
, ‘I see you inherited some of your father’s charm as well. I’ll warn Isabella,’ she said jovially, and then Christian heard her hand the phone to Isabella.

‘
Christian, how are you?’

‘
Great, thanks. Mike and Sian have offered their car. They’ve suggested we drive to Stellenbosch and have lunch at the Lanzerac and maybe meet up with Marais, the passenger that I met on the plane, who is looking for his family. I still have to call him.’

‘
That’d be great. I’m not working for Mum today so how long will you be?’

‘
About half an hour.’

‘
OK, see you then. Sounds like fun.’

‘
Hey, you look like a man in love,’ said Mike as he walked past observing Christian’s dazed look.

‘
Mike, stop trying to embarrass him,’ Sian intervened.

‘
It’s alright, Chris,’ said Mike, shortening his name for the first time. ‘She has that effect on most men.’

‘
Just as well you said most men, darling.’ Sian intervened again.

Mike laughed at his wife’s mock jealousy. Sian, who was gorgeous in her own right, had no need to be threatened by even someone as striking as Isabella.

‘I was trying to warn Christian that many nominate but only a few are chosen. She’s a lovely girl, but there are more than a few broken hearts wandering the corridors of Groote Schuur.’

Changing the subject, Mike said
, ‘You’ll be aware of the need for security by now. Remember, doors locked at all times while driving. The BMW has the new Kevlar lining, which means it’s bulletproof for hand guns. The windows are specially reinforced. The area that you’re going to is fine, but remember it still pays to be cautious.’

‘
Thanks, Mike. I’ll remember to be careful.’

Christian then made a call to Marais, who told him that he had been visiting some of the doctors’ practices in the Stellenbosch area but had made little progress. Nedbank had been unhelpful, so he would be pleased to have the distraction of a lunch with Christian and Isabella.

The drive from Cape Town to Stellenbosch took them back past the airport and through kilometres of shanty towns, with people walking along the edge of the road that were painted in earthy colours and carrying spears.

‘
What does that paint mean that those young boys have on their faces and bodies?’

‘
That’s to signify that they’ve reached puberty and are about to become a man.’

‘
I thought they used to go off into the bush,’ said Christian.

‘
In the rural areas they still do—living in the cities they practice a circumcision ritual, which is what they’re preparing for and why they’re covered in all that traditional paint. The Sangoma, and there are still lots in the townships, usually do the circumcision with a sharpened rock, and consequently you’ll see a number of them in the hospital emergency department with infections.’

‘
That doesn’t sound like much fun at all, and very painful,’ said Christian, wincing at the thought.

‘
It happens less and less now, but bearing the pain was symbolic of becoming a man. There are still some families, especially the newly migrant ones, who still insist on the practice. I was helping in the emergency department once when one of these boys came in with a maggot-infested circumcised foreskin.’

Christian inwardly shuddered again at the thought, and the consequences not only of an infection but of an inaccurate strike of the rock. It was one of those things that did not bear thinking about for too long. The townships started to fade from his rear vision mirror and then in front he started to see rows and rows of vineyards that signalled Stellenbosch was close.

As they drove into Stellenbosch Christian could see that it was a university town. Not any kind of university town, however—it was nestled in the very picturesque Jonkershoek Valley. Sheer granite Mountains on either side of the campus thrust upward like stentorian hands protecting it. They drove up the main street leading to the campus where he was confronted with the majestic towering oak trees with their branches and leaves reaching out to meet high above the road.

‘
The university is one hundred and forty years old and started as a theological seminary,’ said Isabella as Christian continued to take in the history of the old buildings.

He noticed students walking everywhere, which seemed to be the preferred mode of travel, and small cafes acted as gathering places. Driving through Dorp Street, they continued to look for somewhere to park the car. Christian noted the guest houses on what appeared to be every second corner. He was sure that he would have enjoyed going to this university if only from that aspect, and wondered whether his father had spent time in any of these hotels. He made a mental note to ask Mike when they returned to Cape Town. Unable to find any parking off the main street Isabella directed Christian through the main town, past the halls of residence, to the main campus. There they were able to find parking and still be within good walking distance of the town and campus. They had about an hour before they were due to meet Marais and walked up to the impressive sports fields, where Christian knew his father had once played rugby. There they were able to see the Danie Craven Stadium where all the inter-varsity rugby matches were played, and where, according to Mike, he and his father celebrated one great victory, before returning to Cape Town much the worse for wear.

Christian was impressed not only by the facilities but also by the beauty surrounding the campus. Obviously, as one of the premier Afrikaans universities, it had not lacked funding and had had all the best facilities that the white government could supply. As they walked Isabella pointed out the ‘Ou Hoofgebou’, which, she explained, was Afrikaans for the old main building, built in 1886, and various residences that housed the students.

‘
OK, my impressed Australian friend, I can see that you’re thinking that you might well have thrived here in the apartheid days. It’s twenty minutes to lunch—so, let’s go to the Lanzerac and meet Marais.’

The entrance to the old Lanzerac hotel was along a sealed driveway, lined by Plane trees, which created an umbrella-like effect similar to the entrance to the town. The hotel was situated at the top of the driveway, and with its large wooden front door open, it appeared to be inviting guests in. It had the mandatory thatched roof, white walls and ornate filaments surrounding the cornices, indicating that it was from the early Dutch settlement period.

They saw Marais sitting under an umbrella in front of the hotel. He waved as they drove up.

‘
Good morning, Marais,’ said Christian as they walked up the steps at the front of the hotel.

‘
Welcome, my fellow traveller,’ replied Marais, beaming as he stood up to greet them.

Christian introduced Isabella and explained to Marais that she was the daughter of his father’s operating theatre nurse and that she was providing moral support in his search for answers about his father.

‘So have you been making some progress?’

‘
I’ve been able to talk to Isabella’s mother, as well as the people that I’m staying with, who had both known my father and were able to give me some background and some funny stories.’

‘
You’ve been very lucky then, Christian. I’ve mostly drawn blanks, and it appears quite a few children from around this area were sent to the Malawi orphanage. Of course, when I approached the banks to try to trace payments to any one individual, they said it’s a privacy matter. Therefore I can’t get any information on who sent the money to support me, and the doctors that I’ve seen are reluctant to provide me with any information for the same reason, even though I’m a doctor, too.’

‘
I’m sorry to hear that. After lunch, we’re going to drive up to the old farm that used to belong to my grandfather and just have a look around. You would be more than welcome to come.’

‘
Thank you. Even if I don’t get any useful information it would be great just to have a look around one of the farms similar to where I might have been born.’

‘
You haven’t been able to narrow it down to anywhere beyond Stellenbosch?’ said Isabella.

‘
No, nothing. No one seems to want to talk about those times; it seems like an era that everyone would prefer to forget, especially the Afrikaner. I think being coloured and not speaking Afrikaans properly doesn’t help my cause either. Coming with you would be a welcome distraction if you don’t mind.’

After they had ordered their food—a Cape Malay curry for Christian, Snoek for Marais and a vegetarian platter for Isabella—they chatted about how much must have changed since Jannie, Renata, Mike and Sian had come to the Lanzerac to eat and drink during their university days.

‘It would have been hugely different,’ said Isabella. ‘The university in the early days was an Afrikaans university—no non-white students. We certainly wouldn’t have been able to sit here having lunch!’

‘
It must seem strange for those white students to see their university transformed in such a way,’ said Christian. ‘I wonder what my father would have thought.’

Isabella interrupted his thoughts
. ‘Do you have the instructions to the old farm?’

‘
I have a map that my mother drew, which I checked with Mike so it seems fairly straightforward. We drive out of Stellenbosch towards Paarl, and after we go through Paarl, keep an eye out for the first turn left under an overpass. You evidently stay on that and it leads to my grandfather’s farm at the end of that road.’

‘
It all seems rather easy,’ said Isabella.

Christian used the fresh bread that had been brought to the table to scrape up the remains of the curry. As he did so, he was conscious of two men sitting at a table not far from them. The men had glanced across at their table several times. They were both well dressed and white; one wore a suit and the other a light casual jacket, which suggested to him that they were businessmen.

Christian had wondered whether it was just the fact that his was a mixed race group that caused them to glance over every so often. They were both middle-aged males and so perhaps they had not yet adjusted to this kind of integration. As he looked up to see whether they were again being observed, the man in the suit pushed his chair back and walked over to their table.

‘
Couldn’t help but hear the Australian accent. You don’t happen to play rugby, do you? I played against the Wallabies once and you look like a rugby player,’ said the man, who was now standing next to Christian holding out his hand.