The Descent

Over  the  girl's  shoulder,  Ali  caught  sight  of  herself  and  Kokie  in  a  small  mirror  on the  wall.  The  contrast  did  not  please  her.  Ali  had  let  her  hair  grow  out  over  the  past year.  Next  to  the  black  girl's  ruined  flesh,  her  golden  hair  looked  like  harvest  wheat beside  a  salted  field.  Her  beauty  was  obscene  to  her.  Ali  moved  to  one  side  to  erase her  own  image.  For  a  while  she  had  even  tried  taking  the  small  mirror  off  her  wall. Finally  she'd  hung  it  back  on  the  nail,  despairing  that  abnegation  could  be  more  vain than vanity.

'We've talked about this many times,' she said. 'I am Sister, not Mother.'

'We have  talked about this, ya'as, mum,' the orphan said. 'Sister, Mother.'

Some of them thought she was a holy woman, or a queen. Or a witch. The  concept  of a  single  woman,  much  less  a  nun,  was  very  odd  out  here  in  the  bush.  For  once  the offbeat  had  served  her  well.  Deciding  she  must  be  in  exile  like  them,  the  colony  had taken her in.

'Did you want something, Kokie?'

'I  bring  you   this.'  The   girl  held  out  a  necklace   with  a   small   shrunken   pouch embroidered  with  beadwork.  The  leather  looked  fresh,  hastily  tanned,  with  small hairs still  attached.  Clearly  they  had  been  in  a  hurry  to  finish  this  for  her.  'Wear  this. The  evil stays  away.'

Ali  lifted  it  from  Kokie's  dusty  palm  and  admired  the  geometric  designs  formed  by red, white, and green beads. 'Here,' she said,  setting  it  back  in  Kokie's  grip,  'you  put  it on me.'

Ali bent and held her hair up so that the leper girl could get  the  necklace  placed.  She copied Kokie's solemnity.  This  was  no  tourist  trinket.  It  was  part  of  Kokie's  beliefs.  If anyone knew about evil, it had to be this poor child.

With  the  spread  of  post-apartheid  chaos  and  a  surge  in  AIDS  brought  south  by Zimbabweans  and  Mozambiquans  imported  to  work  the  gold  and  diamond  mines, hysteria  had  been  unleashed  among  the  poor.  Old  superstitions  had  risen  up.  It  was no longer news that  sexual  organs  and  fingers  and  ears  –  even  handfuls  of  human  fat

– were  being stolen from  morgues  and  used  for  fetishes,  or  that  corpses  lay  unburied because family members  were  convinced the bodies would come to life again.

The  worst  of  it  by  far  was  the  witch-hunting.  People  said  that  evil  was  coming  up from the earth. So far  as  Ali  was  concerned,  people  had  been  saying  such  things  since the  beginning  of  man.  Every  generation  had  its  terrors.  She  was  convinced  this  one had  been  started  by  diamond  miners  seeking  to  deflect  public  hatred  away  from themselves.  They  spoke of reaching  depths  in  the  earth  where  strange  beings  lurked. The  populace had  turned  this  nonsense  into  a  campaign  against  witches.  Hundreds  of innocent  people  had  been  necklaced,  macheted,  or  stoned   by   superstitious   mobs throughout the country.

'Have you taken  your  vitamin pill?' Ali asked.

'Oh, ya'as.'

'And you will continue taking your  vitamins after  I'm gone?'

Kokie's  eyes  shifted  to  the  dirt  floor.  Ali's  departure  was  a  terrible  pain  for  her. Again,  Ali  could  not  believe  the  suddenness  of  what  was  happening.  It  was  only  two days  ago that she had received  the letter  informing her of the change.

'The vitamins are important for the baby,  Kokie.'

The  leper  girl  touched  her  belly.  'Ya'as,  the  baby,'  she  whispered  joyfully.  'Every day. Sun come up. The  vitamin pill.'

Ali loved this girl, because God's mystery  was  so  profound  in  its  cruelty  toward  her.

Twice  Kokie  had  attempted  suicide  and  both  times  Ali  had  saved  her.  Eight  months ago  the  suicide  attempts  had  stopped.  That  was  when  Kokie  had  learned  she  was pregnant.

It  still  surprised  Ali  when  the  sounds  of  lovers  wafted  to  her  in  the  night.  The lessons were  simple and yet  profound. These  lepers were  not horrible in  one  another's sight. They  were  blessed, beautiful, even  dressed  in their poor skin.

With  the  new  life  growing  inside  her,  Kokie's  bones  had  taken  on  flesh.  She  had begun  talking  again.  Mornings,  Ali  heard  her  murmuring  tunes  in  a  hybrid  dialect  of Siswati and Zulu, more beautiful than birdsong.

Ali,  too,  felt  reborn.  She  wondered  if  this,  perhaps,  was  why  she'd  ended  up  in Africa.  It  was  as  if  God  were  speaking  to  her  through  Kokie  and  all  the  other  lepers and refugees. For months now, she had been anticipating the birth of  Kokie's  child.  On a rare  trip  to  Jo'burg,  she'd  purchased  Kokie's  vitamins  with  her  own  allowance  and borrowed  several  books  on  midwifery.  A  hospital  was  out  of  the  question  for  Kokie, and Ali wanted to be ready.