Does it Hurt to Die (12 page)

The front door bell woke him, and he struggled out of the armchair and walked down the hallway to press the intercom.

‘It’s me, Jannie,’ said Mike.

His voice was a signal for the spaniels to start barking and begin their mad dash down the hallway. Mike was well known to them, and as the door opened, they greeted him with full honours, tails wagging, noses sniffing and tongues licking. He returned their affection as he closed the door behind him.

‘You’re looking better, although still a little pale,’ said Mike. ‘I told you, you should’ve had another three units of blood.’

‘
There are others who need it more,’ replied Jannie. ‘Besides, there’s always a risk in Africa.’

‘
We screen for hepatitis, Jannie,’ said Mike, knowing that Jannie was leading him into familiar territory.

‘
I’m sure that in due course we’re going to find that there are other viruses besides B that produce hepatitis. I mean, why should there be just B? We know there are other forms of hepatitis that have no known cause. I’m sure a percentage of those will be viral. Perhaps there will be a hepatitis C through to G in due course!’

He looked at Mike and said
, ‘Why the smile?’

‘
It’s just that when I hear you talk like that, I know you’re getting better.’ Mike laughed. He grabbed his friend around the shoulders and hugged him.

Jannie shifted his weight, embarrassed as he always was by his friend’s overt display of affection. He realised that it was Mike’s way but remembered thinking when it first happened as to whether Mike perhaps wasn’t a closet homosexual. What had troubled him even more at the time was that Mike had noticed that feeling and challenged his homophobia. He was glad sometimes that he was Afrikaner because emotion was channelled into producing results. He knew what he was and considered it unnecessary to justify it to people like Mike.

As he considered a response, he heard Lucy come through the front door and the squeals from Christian, who, seeing the clothes in the front room, realised that his father was home. Jannie turned as Christian ran at full speed down the hallway adroitly missing the spaniels, and then sliding expertly on the Karakul rugs as he came around the corner, ending up neatly in Jannie’s good right arm.

‘
Hey, Daddy Waddy, you’re home,’ said Christian, hugging his father tightly.

‘
Nice to see you too, kiddo. I really missed you.’

‘
Hey, don’t I get one of those?’ said Mike, reaching out to Christian and trying to pry him loose from Jannie.

Christian squealed and turned and gave Mike a big hug as
Lucy walked past them both to put the kettle on. Christian, satiated with attention, then concentrated on what was left of Jannie’s salad.

‘
What is this, my friend? I don’t think I’ve seen you reading anything other than medical journals,’ said Mike turning his attention to magazines and books on the coffee table.

Jannie followed Mike’s gaze to the coffee table where Kenneth Grahame’s
The Wind in the Willows
lay open.

‘
It’s one of my favourites; one of the only English books that I was allowed to read as I was growing up, and I was going to read a section to Christian on the Mole.’

‘
I loved that book, too, when I was growing up, and all the illustrations. Did you have a favourite part that you learnt by heart?’

‘
I did,’ said Jannie. ‘It was from Chapter 1.’

‘
Well, with your memory I’m sure you can give it to me verbatim.’

Although Jannie knew that it was a mental challenge to remember the quote, he was also aware that it was his ability to remember detail that impressed Mike. He always felt somewhat embarrassed by his friend’s open flattery; but now that he was to confide his darkest secret, it made him even more uncomfortable.

‘It’s the section where the mole was beside the river and Kenneth Grahame talks about the river chatting to him; the thought of a river “chatting” and sending its best stories into an insatiable sea always intrigued me.’

‘
I wish I had that ability to be able to remember written things the way you do.’

‘
You have an amazing organisational memory, Mike, and a far greater ability to get things done than I can achieve, which is partly why I wanted to talk to you here.’

‘
Well, what was it that couldn’t wait for the weekend?’ said Mike, noting for the first time that Christian was also there playing under the willow tree.

‘
I need to take you into my confidence, and I need to give you something for safe keeping.’

The seriousness in Jannie’s voice disturbed him and abruptly changed the mood between the two friends. Mike had thought this day was too good to be true.

As if sensing the mood change, Christian pulled at his leg. ‘Uncle Mike, Uncle Mike!’

Mike looked down as Christian wrapped himself around one of his legs. He reached down to pick him up. He had all of the best features of Renata and Jannie. Blond hair, beautiful angelic blue eyes, and that look that told you he had averaged the intelligence quotient of both his parents. He was genuinely open as a little boy
, his affection on display for all to see.

He grabbed Mike and held on for all he was worth. His giggle, when he was delighted with you, came from deep within as it did now imploring Mike to play with him. It bubbled up from a centre of emotion that was so far untouched and unrestricted by generations of pioneers and their martinet approach to life.

‘Come and sit outside, Mike, next to the pool. I’ll get Lucy to bring some coffee and biscuits.’

Jannie’s pool was set in the corner of the garden, oval in shape, and was not much more than a splash pool. It was surrounded by weeping willows whose branches reached down either side of the fence, giving the rear of the garden and pool a tranquil atmosphere. Christian, who had disentangled himself from Mike’s leg, had run ahead and was managing to get his arms through the protective pool net and flick water at the spaniels as they tried to drink. As Mike and Jannie sat around the outside table,
Lucy arrived and with her, the delicious smell of fresh brewed coffee and toast.

‘
Thank you, Lucy,’ said Mike.

‘
Master, I’m going to town to do the shopping,’ she said, with the reverence she knew Jannie expected.

‘
That’s fine; close the door on the way through.’

‘
Yes, Master, I always do.’

‘
Mike,’ said Jannie, interrupting his thoughts. ‘Your father was a priest wasn’t he?’

‘
Well, if he was, I wouldn’t be here,’ replied Mike. The quizzical look on Jannie’s face caused him to smile. ‘Priests can’t marry, Jannie. My father was a pastor, the equivalent in Afrikaans of a Dominee. They can marry.’

Jannie gave him that look that said the play on words was noisome.

‘What do you make of this forgiveness concept?’

‘
You wanted me to come and sit by your pool to discuss Christian theology? I’m flattered and excited.’

Jannie looked at the delight in his friend’s eyes. It was a rare quality his friend had, to lighten any occasion.

‘Look, there’s something else more serious that we need to talk about, but I was just thinking generally along those lines. I mean, where do you get that feeling of wanting to forgive someone who has killed your wife or son? There is, after an event like the church massacre, an uncontrollable rage at having had your family killed, and so how do you get beyond that and forgive someone as some of the congregation have done? I mean, I know it’s the perfect Christian thing to do, but I can’t do it.’

Jannie looked at his friend and before he had a chance to reply continued
. ‘I mean, God is meant to be a God of goodness, isn’t he? He’s meant to be all-powerful, isn’t he? How could he allow such an act of evil to be carried out in His house? I mean, if you’re not safe there, where would you be safe? Perhaps there isn’t a God if He can’t protect us in His house, and we’re just kidding ourselves. Then there’s the question of trust, Mike. I’ve always been taught that provided you adhere to biblical principles, you can trust God to look out for you; that if you ask, He will provide. I’m sure no one asked to be killed that night. I surely didn’t.’

‘
Jannie, you know that whenever I’ve tried to talk to you about biblical justifications for events that the conversation has degenerated into a battle of intellects. You try to mentally outmanoeuvre me to prove your point, not to understand another viewpoint. You try to defeat with words what I’m trying to convey with philosophy. It just becomes a debate of issues far removed from where we started.’

He paused, sensing that Jannie was taken aback by his haranguing
. ‘I’m sorry, Jannie, I was starting to pontificate. What I wanted to say in reply to your question about trust and forgiveness is that I think there is an answer. I’d like to tell you what I believe. However, I do know our penchant to be verbal protagonists and for the whole discussion to be hijacked by our respective personalities.’

‘
Yes, I also recognise that, Mike, but I’m interested in your explanation. You know, despite how much we’ve debated issues, I’ve always respected the way you analyse situations.’

Mike wondered briefly whether Jannie was serious. He looked at him and saw no hint of irony, concluding that maybe the trauma had triggered a trait of long-suppressed understanding, or maybe it was the near-death experience.

‘Please go on, Mike. I need to try to make sense of this situation. I can’t come to grips with what I perceive as inconsistencies in emotions and actions, and I’m the type of person who needs to try to find a rational explanation.’

‘
Some people, Christian people, believe that their commitment to their beliefs insures them against misfortune of any kind; that is, as long as they follow God’s rules, no harm will befall them. But that’s not what the Bible says; somewhere in Acts it tells us that we have to go through many hardships to enter the Kingdom of God. It’s not a guaranteed smooth ride. If you believe that somehow your belief entitles you to preferential treatment in everyday life, then your perspective is distorted. The Bible is concerned with our welfare, but only to prepare us for a life beyond death. God loves us and that is why He created us. He wants us to follow a path that prepares us for a life that follows human death. Eternal life brings a renewal of the body, free of human ailments, linked to a spirituality that will ensure everlasting happiness.’

‘
Why do you think God allowed this massacre in His church, Mike? I can follow your point that Christianity is not a panacea to all our personal and worldly ills, but why in His own house of worship? Isn’t that the ultimate triumph of evil over good?’

‘
Why does God allow anything, Jannie? You have to realise this is not a perfect world. If it were, we’d still all be walking around in the Garden of Eden. The fact is, from a Christian point of view, we’re imperfect in an imperfect world. The principles of trouble and hardship are therefore built into our world. We can’t escape that fact, and by implication some of us will experience more of it than others.’

‘
Yes, but why in a church, why in a place of worship, a place where one should be able to trust the God of ours to protect us? I was brought up to believe totally in the Bible, and I thought God protected those who loved him. Maybe I don’t love him enough!’

‘
Jannie, if you want to try and truly understand this situation, you have to alter your perspective a little.’

Jannie raised his eyebrow at his friend, in the way he did when he thought Mike had gone beyond the bounds of friendship.

‘What I mean, Jannie, is that if you really seek an explanation of what has happened, you need to consider events from the aspect that this could be an explanation, rather than debunking religion per se, because in your mind there has been a triumph of evil over good. You need to remember that God is love; He created us because He loves us, but He didn’t create a world of perfect humans. The Bible tells us we’re all born with sin, but those of us who are Christian believe our belief can expunge that. It doesn’t mean that we’re perfect examples of humanity; it’s just that we try to improve. No one expects everyone to forgive those who shot and killed people at St Andrew’s. Some won’t, and some will be angry and revengeful. That’s part of the spectrum of humanity; they will experience what others do and it will remind them of what can be achieved.’

As Mike finished his exegesis Christian, returning from the pool edge, interrupted their conversation. Holding on
to his jersey, Jannie pulled his son towards him to great squeals of delight. It broke the mood perfectly. Christian then tried to wriggle free from Jannie’s grip, but he was no match for his father’s strength, or will. Jannie scooped him up, lifted him over the arm of the chair and sat on his knee, which produced mock howls of protest. It was a scene of such genuine love between a father and son that it caused Jannie temporarily to forget why he had asked Mike to come.

‘
So that was it, the reason you wanted me to come around—to discuss forgiveness?’