Afrika by Colleen Craig Read Free Book Online

political pamphlets. He was put in a refrigerator at the police station for half an hour and then given an electric shock. This story made Kim sick and the thought of it kept her awake at night. While she was awake she would worry about her mother.
    The Truth Commission stories were so disconcerting that a therapist had been hired to help the journalists. Kim was aware that Riana had spoken a couple of times with the therapist. The therapist encouraged the journalists to talk amongst themselves about the disturbing stories rather than burden their families. Since that time Riana often invited colleagues home with her at the end of the day.
    From the back window of the kitchen Kim could see that a storm was building. Not just the sloppy downpour they had had all week. Tonight the rain was noisy and precise, accompanied by a vicious wind. She wondered if she should go into the livingroom and warn Riana's colleagues about the deteriorating weather.
    At that moment, Riana opened the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the living area. Reeking of her colleagues' smoke, she shuffled into the kitchen with the teapot in her hands. Kim hardly recognized her mom. Riana was pale and she moved like a sleepwalker.
    “There's going to be a storm,” Kim said.“Mom!”
    Riana did not answer. She set the teapot down and fired up the gas under the kettle. Kim watched her take out a jar and spread marmite onto some crackers. When she lifted a plate out of the cupboard, it slipped from her fingers with a crash.
    Kim saw that her mom's hands were shaking. “Riana, are you okay?” she asked.
    “I can't get that woman's crying out of my head,” Riana said.
    “What woman?” Kim asked.
    “The mother,” Riana responded. “She told me there was a purple birthmark on her son's right knee. It was the only way she could identify him.” Riana covered her mouth and grew silent. “I shouldn't be telling you this.”
    Riana never told Kim the gruesome circumstances of the stories she worked on, but Kim sometimes found out details by overhearing the tapes that her mom compiled for her producer.
    “Riana, you need a break,” Kim said.“Let's take up Uncle Piet's offer and go to the farm for a few days.”
    The mention of the farm got the same reaction as the word
grenade
might have. Riana jerked herself to attention.
    “Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you promise me back home that we would visit Milky Way Farm?” Kim asked.
    Riana burrowed through the cupboards. She produced a bottle of whiskey and put it on the tray with some glasses. Then, without making tea, she flicked off the gas on the stove.
    “Don't leave the garden,” Riana said, as she set the plate of marmite crackers on the tray. Without another word she turned and left the kitchen.
    Kim wanted to shake her mother so hard that the real her would wake up and life could go on as before. Kim did not know the best way to solve her mom's problems. If Riana caught malaria in Africa, Kim swore it would be different. People died from this disease and Kim would do whatever it took to nurse her mother back to health. But this was not malaria! And the only solution was to convince her mom to stop working in South Africa and return early to Canada. Riana would never agree to that.
    Suddenly there was a sharp knock on the kitchen door and Kim jerked back to reality. Herheart thumped. She was as edgy as Riana. If she didn't watch it,
she
would need a therapist too.
    She pulled back the curtain to see who it was and exhaled to let the tension out as she reached for the doorknob. It was Themba.

K im pulled Themba into the kitchen. He was soaked, and she handed him a clean dishtowel to dry off with. “Kim! Kim! Did you forget how to count yet?” Themba asked wiping off his face. It was wonderful to hear Themba's deep melodic voice.
    She took a breath and began. “
Inye. Zimbini. Zintathu.”
    “Hey,” he said, impressed.
    It was only this week that he had taught her to count