Intimacies(38)

What happened when you arrived?

Our father pulled us inside and he and my brothers barred the door. We could hear the shouts coming from down the road. I ran outside and hid in the shed.

Where were your father and brothers?

They stayed in the house. I ran out alone.

And what happened next?

As I worked, I was obliged to focus on the voice of the interpreter in the opposite booth, which was measured and precise and occluded much of the sound of the young woman’s speech. And yet her voice came through with remarkable clarity in the gaps between interpretation, the syllables distinct, the timbre unmistakable, so that I still had the sense that I was speaking for her, despite the layers of language between us.

I said: There was the sound of shouting coming louder and louder and then the men started banging on the door. I could hear them from the shed outside, I could hear everything. They broke the door down and then they ordered my father and my brothers to lie on the ground. I heard the sound of gunshots and I ran out of the shed and into the house—

Why did you do this?

I paused. Because I wanted to protect my family.

How did you hope to protect your family?

With my body. It is small and it does not look like much but it can stop a bullet.

But you were not able to protect your family?

No. I paused. When I arrived, my brothers were dead. They lay in a line on the floor, facedown. My father was lying on the floor beside my brothers and I begged them not to kill my father, I ran forward so that I could stop them. But one of the men hit me in the head with the butt of his gun and I fell back to the floor and I could not move. I watched as they shot my father in the head. The blood from his wound flowed into the blood of my brothers and I screamed and screamed. They ignored me as they went through the house taking our money and our radio and whatever else they could find, they even ate our food, the food that had been prepared for lunch. They had no respect for the living or the dead, they were laughing as I screamed. As I shook my brothers and I shook my father and I tried to bring them back to life.

I stared across at the booth, and the interpreter looked up as he spoke and as I continued to interpret, and for a long moment we simply stared at each other.

The other interpreter looked down again as the witness paused. Sorry, I did not stop to allow for the interpretation, he said. I apologize. The witness looked up to the booths. I apologize, I said. May I continue?

Someone must have indicated that sufficient time had lapsed because she began once more. As I looked down at the witness, it prickled through me, the strangeness of speaking her words for her, the wrongness of using this I that was hers and not mine, this word that was not sufficiently capacious.

I said: And then they left. They did not think me worth killing. I was nothing to them. My grief was nothing to them. They thought of me as entirely insignificant, a little girl, not even worth the bullet it would take to kill me.

The prosecutor nodded. His voice, when he spoke, was very gentle.

And was it your understanding that these men belonged to groups mobilized by the former president in the wake of the election?

Kees rose at once, Your Honor, the witness cannot be expected to make a judgment—

The witness interrupted and he fell silent. My breath caught as I watched her lean forward and speak into the microphone, her arms folded on the desk, her voice steady.

There was a slight delay and then the interpreter in the other booth said, and then I said, the tremble audible in my voice, unlike the voice of the other interpreter, unlike the voice of the witness herself, which remained steady and solid and strong: Yes. There is no doubt in my mind. I know exactly who these men were, and why they were there to kill us. I know exactly who ordered them to exterminate us all.

And as I spoke, I could not help it, my gaze went from the young woman to the former president. Who had no need for these layers of interpretation. Who sat bolt upright and did not move, and whose gaze was trained with utmost attention and care upon the witness.





14.


One week later, I saw Anton in a restaurant close to the Court. I had been taken out for lunch by Bettina. She did not usually socialize with her staff and I knew there had to be something she wished to discuss—likely my contract, and the question of whether I would or would not remain at the Court.

It was something that had begun to weigh upon me, more heavily by the day. Ever since the witness testimony, my time in the booth had become more difficult, and I had started to look at my colleagues differently. They no longer seemed like the well-adjusted individuals I had met upon my arrival, instead they were marked by alarming fissures, levels of dissociation that I did not think could be sustainable. And then there was the question of Adriaan, to which I had no real response. I did not know whether I wished to stay or not. But where would I go, if I were to leave? I was not yet able to envision an alternative. For this reason alone it was not a matter of small interest to me, whether or not the Court would extend my contract.

However, Bettina did not bring up the topic until the end of the meal, and because of this I spent the lunch in a state of some tension, enjoying my food less than I might have. The restaurant was Italian, an old apothecary that had been recently renovated. We were seated at a table close to the kitchen, from which I could observe the whole of the dining room. The restaurant was a popular venue for dates and special occasions, but as it was the middle of the day the tables were filled with business lunches. The Court was not in session that day, nonetheless I was surprised by Bettina’s leisurely manner, she ordered a starter and then a main. I thought once we had ordered she would explain to me the purpose of our excursion but she continued to make small talk, as the food arrived and then as we ate. The restaurant had been busy when we arrived but quickly emptied once the hour pushed past two, no one else was lingering over their meal in this way. Still Bettina did not broach the subject. It was only once the waiter asked if we wished to see the dessert menu and Bettina replied for both of us, only once we had ordered our desserts and coffees that she at last turned to me and said, There’s something I would like to discuss.