Labouring under the eyes of a whip from early morning until late at night was Susanna's new routine. Up before light. Dig. Shovel. Hoe. Plant. Eat .Sleep. Repeat. One day. Two days. One week. Two weeks. Three weeks? Two months?
Autumn's culling of the Colony's trees left behind a carpet of leaves in different shades and patterns of brown, churned and tossed around in the wind and pouring rain. When winter rolled around Susanna's first encounter was not hugely different to that of the shrivelled leaves. She like them yearned for the cycle of life to run its course and become one with the earth. But winter was determined to establish its authority among the settler community with little regard for those relegated to the draughty Coornhoop or those stuck in some outbuilding freezing to death on Robben Island.
Nommoa followed the hidden route from the back of the Gardens and made his way to the Coornhoop. Susanna was tied to a tree a fair distance from the store, her head slumped to the left of the rough stump. The branches of the huge tree bent and swayed from left to right and the leaves rustled in the wind. Nommoa sat and watched the limp body on the tree, and when the soldiers guarding the slaves retired, as they had done for the past two nights, he crawled towards her.
'Kismia,' he whispered. No response. Why did you provoke the bad spirits of that woman filled with mischief and spite? While he caressed her unconscious, feverish face, he talked to himself, casting his eyes and hands towards the heavens. Tsui-Goab, I bring you my hands to heal her hurt. I am grateful, to you, above Hoerikwaggo, for keeping your arms around her on your tree. From his pouch he brought forth a wet cloth and wiped it across the muttering slave's dry lips. Where the lashes had separated the skin from the flesh, her back was raw. Blood mixed with a yellow fluid seeped from it. He cleaned it with water, applied a thick layer of ointment and covered her whole back with leaves and herbs. He swaddled the unresponsive body in the soft fur of the animal skins he had sewn together. Thank you, Tsui-Goab for not blowing out the spirit of the warrior slave. Stretching his arms towards the mountain, his legs started performing dancing movements. Chase away, Gunab's evil eyes. The beads and ornaments around his ankles chimed rhythmically as his lips hummed in-between his silent prayers. Take away her pain and anger and cool her inside with the honey of the Camissa. He sang a soothing lullaby as he shuffled his bare feet and moved around and around the tree. Thank you for the daccha and the balsam of Hoerikwaggo, mighty One.
Then he sat down, took off the pipe around his neck and filled it with the dry, green tobacco mixture from his pouch. Satisfied that it was stuffed properly, he blew the smoke into her mouth and nose. With first light he awoke from his intoxicated sleep and jumped up. He touched Susanna's forehead and soothed her lips with the remaining water. After taking off the leaves and animal skin from her body, he left. With the swiftness of the gazelle and the speed of the cheetah his legs and feet took him to the safety of the thick forest that hemmed in the Company Gardens.
When he returned at midnight, Susanna's eyes were open. 'Tsk, tsk, tsk.' He clicked his tongue. 'Thank you, Tsui-Goab. Thank you,' he said. He held the water in front of the cracked lips that swallowed it all, until the last drop. He took pieces of the dry leaves, put them in her mouth and waited until it was chewed, and repeated the process. Once again, he spread the ointment over the wounds, covered them with dry herbs and leaves, tucked in her body and lit his pipe. Susanna watched. He pushed the pipe into her mouth, but she was unable to suck in the fumes of the daccha. He pouted his lips and inhaled and exhaled sharply to illustrate how the pipe must be smoked. Susanna followed his example but burst out in a bout of coughing. Nommoa inhaled a mouth full of the vapours and blew them into her mouth. When day broke, he sedated Susanna with yet another generous helping of the ointment. When it took effect, he assembled the skins and disappeared along the secret footpaths amidst the aromas of the fynbos.
When he returned on the third night, Susanna was tugging at the chain around her joints. She was trying to free her hands. Nommoa examined her wrists. 'They are raw.'
'Thank you for helping me.'
Nommoa was seated on the ground, sucking on his pipe. 'You must not make enemies with those who are stronger.'
'They are thieves.'
'You do not throw the assegai at the vulture in flight. You will never kill it. A warrior needs a plan, like the hunter. You need a plan.'
'A warrior slave... I do not want to be a warrior. I want freedom. I want to go home...I want to wash and drink and eat. I want to wrap my body in a sarong.... feel sandals on my feet....' Her brown eyes tore into him. 'Take me away. Tonight, now, I beg you...'
Nommoa avoided her eyes. 'You will never make it. Do you know where you are?' He scanned the landscape around him and shook his head. A huge sigh was audible. 'The wild animals will tear you apart. It is not your time to leave Hoerikwagga. Not yet.'
'I am already dying.'
'You are not. I know, because Tsui gave me the dream. I was a mighty healer. I healed many people but as soon as they were healed, they all fell ill again, except one. I could not see the healed person for the face was hidden from Nommoa's. I fought with Tsui to explain mtmy dream but he refused. I pleaded with the wisest men among my people to help me with my dream. They threw their bones, shook their heads and sent me away without saying a word.' He turned his face and found her eyes. 'You are the one without face in my dream.'
'Dreams are useless.' She tugged at her restraints. 'Get me away from this tree... take me with you... to your people. I will stay there.'
'My people cannot remove their chains around your hands and feet. That is not the plan of a warrior. A mighty warrior must face the roar of the lion.'
'I am not a warrior. They stole my life and turned me into a convict slave. Their horses and cattle have more value than me, life...'
'That is why your plan cannot work. You are their property. They will send their spies. Autshumao and that lickspittle Krotoa will lead them to my people. I tell you, he will bargain for as much copper, brandy, beads and tobacco as he can lay his hands on. He will tell the Commander. That is how it is with him and Krotoa.'
'To sit on the pure white sand in the summer sun and weave a garland of red hibiscus flowers... And when the sun sets... red and orange on the horison... dance in my sarong in the moonlight until the sun rises again...'
'That is how the tongue of a warrior speaks life into the future.' He stood up and lifted his hands to the heaven. 'Thank you, Tsui. You heard me.'
'What did you ask your Tsui?'
'To turn you into a warrior.'
Susanna swiped her hand across her face and got lost in a monologue in her native language. 'I am grateful for you, Nommoa, but when I get the chance, I am leaving.'
'Tsui-//Goab kept you alive for a reason, Kismia. Why, only he knows.'
'I am better off dead than a convict slave for life. I do not want them to infect me. I do not want to be a concubine... or a prostitute in the lodge.' She moved her head in a more comfortable position. 'Would your Tsui ignore such suffering knowing what awaits them?'
'Their eyes do not see us, Kismia. It has something to do with our skin. Or the way we smell. Or live. That is what I think.'
'I am more than a pair of hands. And much, more than a mattress. I am not invisible, Nommoa.'
'It is time. Work on a plan. Your own plan. Make yourself visible. Let them hear your voice. Let them feel your power despite their chains. Find your own strength. Prepare for when my people drive these thieves into the sea with all their ships. But the time is not right. Not yet.'
Susanna searched his face. 'Will you do that for us?'
'As sure as Tsui gives me breath. Soon it will be light. Let me tend to your wounds before I leave.' As he worked on her back, he recited a prayer in his own tongue.
'What did you pray for?'
'To protect you and make you strong.'
'Can I hear it?'
'Close your eyes and ask your God for all the things you want while I talk to my Tsui. Two prayers are stronger than one.' Once again, he lifted his arms.
'Oh, mighty Tsui-//Goab, our great and mighty warrior, I plead for the life of the Kismia. Give her the spirit of the eagle. Make her swifter than the rock rabbit, and more watchful than the mongoose. Protect her from her enemies and cover her with a coat of quills from the porcupine. Oh, my highest Tsui-//Goab, only your power can douse her pain. Place in her the aim of the assegai with the poison of the cobra, the patience of a tortoise and the colours of a chameleon. Mighty Tsui-//Goab, turn her tongue into a mighty warrior for only you are seated high above Hoerikwaggo. Only you see the tears in the hearts of your people, and only you are the great Spirit and healer.'
When he was done, he poured a mixture into a tortoise shell which he lifted to her mouth. She took a sip and her face contracted, making her wretch.
'What is this? Do you also want me dead?'
'Drink up,' he said in a stern voice and brought the shell back to her lips. She closed her eyes and swallowed. 'Everything,' he urged, and brought the shell to her lips once more. She complied. He tilted her head back. Satisfied that the mixture would not be ejected, he released her head.
'What was that? It tastes worse than their food.'
'A potion that would restore the strength of any worthy warrior. It has the heart of the eagle the legs of the rabbit, the eyes of the mongoose and the skin of the chameleon. I found the biggest cobra and added a few drops of his poison. After I searched Hoerikgwaggo for herbs and I collected water from our Camissa river, I boiled it all together on a kind fire while stirring it with the quill of the porcupine.' He took a breath. 'That is what is in you.'
She pulled her face. 'Snake poison?'
'Oh, I forgot. Served to you in the shell of the tortoise.' After he spoke his face became serious. 'Kismia, now you must listen to me. These people want to make an example of you. They do not care if you die out here or not. If you die, the better for them for it will scare the rest of the slaves and teach them never to show resistance or talk ill of their masters. Do you understand that?' She nodded. 'Good. Now, you cannot stay out here any longer. The clouds and wind are gathering and Hoerikwaggo has warned us that vicious cold, thunder and lightning are on the way.'
Susanna was silent for a few seconds before she responded. 'Perfect. My people are not afraid of death. We embrace it. I will be cleaned by my god's tears from heaven before I enter his palace. I cannot remember how many years I have lived in filth.'
'Kismia,' he said and took her face into his hands. Listen to me!'
'No, I am tired. My gods have deserted me.'
'Because they have no use for you up there. You will be in their way... but I need you to stay alive for when I come for you.' He kissed her wet face. 'Please, do it for me.'
The woman hidden deep, deprived of the touch, caress and love for most of her life responded to the soft lines on his face beneath the glow of the moonlight. The gentle sound of his voice reverberated through the pain on her scarred back and ear. The warm touch of his lips ignited a flame in her heart. Momentarily. Slowly the stirrings left by the expression of affection dissipated. Her lived experiences and years of enslavement rose, determined not to flee without a fight. It formed a barrier of confusion, disbelief, doubt, and trepidation between her and the man obsessed with her survival.
'I have seen too much death, Nommoa. At night I hear them beneath their Company blankets. Sometimes I think I hear their death rattles above the thunder. I am tired of death. I am tired of watching people dying like cattle. I am tired of this cold in winter. Of this Colony of Good Hope that has no hope.'
'Winter spares no one. It is the test of our people's strength. It teaches us how to survive, like the wild animals in the forest, in the sky and on the mountain.' He closed her head with his animal skin when lightning flashed across the midnight sky. 'We respect Tsui's might. He reminds us we have no power.'
'In my world winter is disease and cold. Winter ignites my desire for freedom.'
'Why winter?'
'The hunger for a full belly and a warm bed is much stronger in winter.'
'Hold out, Kismia. Just a little longer.'
'I am not sure I can, Nommoa. My life is... I do not want to die of disease under their dirty blanket. I want to give up my spirit in the presence of loved ones. They must usher me to the other side where freedom awaits. Freedom... to run in fields of brilliant sun and my people welcoming me home.'
'Now, you must accept your fate. Use your anger to sharpen your weapons for the war. Only the strongest survive in this place.'
She snickered. 'Not true. Those inside the Fort, those with connections to influence and station have beaten the odds of your winter. They-'
'Is that how you want to survive?'
'Principles and morals do not keep me safe and warm. Or fed. Warrior dreams lead to this.' She rested her head on her shoulder.'
'Kismia, Gunab got inside your head. Fight him. I can help you,starting now. This is what I want you to do.' He lifted her head. 'Scream as loud as you can for help. When the soldiers come tell them a Hottentoo man tried to steal you.' When she did not respond he addressed her again. 'I am leaving now. If you do not do it, I will not be back for I cannot bear the thought of you dying here on this tree. The lightning will kill you or the hungry animals. They will leave your body on this tree for the wild animals to devour. Your god and mine saved you on the ship. They have a purpose for you.'