LITMIR.BIZ

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His question had startled me.

      ‘Who did you speak to on the phone before you were arrested?’

      ‘You mean when the police came knocking on my door?’

      ‘Yes!’ he shouted. ‘Cut out the games! You know what I am asking.’

      ‘I called home. My parents’ home, to say that the police were knocking on my door.’

      ‘How did you know that it was the police?’

      ‘I saw the Police Reaction Unit through the keyhole.’

      ‘And then you called your parents’ place before you opened the door?’

      ‘Yes.’ I was desperately trying to figure out where he was going with these questions.

      ‘Why did you not call your girlfriend?’

      ‘Because I wanted my parents to know.’

      ‘I see. But who did you speak to?’

      ‘My brother Yunis.’

      ‘Did he answer the phone?’

      ‘I can’t recall, but I know that I spoke to him.’

      ‘Let us listen to the tapes then, shall we? It will help you remember.’ Botha switched on the tape recorder.

      ‘You have been taping my parents’ phone?’

      ‘Oh yes, and yours, and your girlfriend’s as well.’ Lieutenant Botha smirked. ‘I am sure you know that by now. There are some interesting things that you should listen to.’

      We listened to the tape recording in silence. The lieutenant’s eyes were fixed on me, no glint in them now. ‘Who answered the phone, when you called?’

      ‘My dad.’

      ‘But you did not speak to him, right?’

      ‘That is correct.’

      ‘But you said you called home because you wanted your parents to know that you were about to get arrested, yes?’

      ‘Yes, that is correct.’

      ‘But you did not tell your dad that when he answered the phone. Who did you ask for?’

      ‘My brother Yunis.’

      ‘That’s correct! You wanted your brother Yunis to know! Why?’

      ‘I thought it better that he broke the news to them.’

      ‘I see, you are close to him, are you not?’

      ‘I am close to all of my brothers.’

      ‘I am sure you are but you did not ask for any of your other brothers. You asked specifically for him. Why?’

      ‘That was just a coincidence.’

      ‘Just a coincidence? Really? Well, we will see.’

      Lieutenant Botha readied himself to leave the room saying, ‘We will chat later. Tomorrow will be an interesting day.’

      I knew that Lieutenant Botha was on to something. I just could not figure out what.

      I was returned to my cell. I slept through most of the night. Even though I needed the rest, whenever I woke my mind worked overtime. I went through the story again and again, looking for any loopholes. I was confident that my story would hold. Although much depended on Shirish sticking to his legend. So far, he’d done so. Myreen was my main concern, and I hoped that my ‘admission’ would protect her and get her released soon.

      In my underground activities I had worked with many comrades. I needed to protect their identities and I knew they depended on me doing this. The only way I could help them was to limit the damage to myself. And I had to do this in a way that would give me a chance in a court of law, assuming I was ever charged.

      It was clear to me that this was my strategy, my path to survival. But for it to work Lieutenant Botha had to buy my ‘story’. For that to happen I had to stay focused, steadfast and alert in this evolving game of half-truths, hidden facts and in the perverse power relations that existed between Botha and me. I was playing to his ego and to his perception of himself as a super-sleuth. Lieutenant Botha needed to join the dots, so I did it for him as an ‘admission’ of a ‘broken’ man. I had given Lieutenant Botha the pleasure of ‘breaking’ me and in exchange had got the three days that ensured Ebrahim’s safety. I felt good about this. Little did I know that Lieutenant Botha had other plans.

      6

      The gap between the windows of the cells and the brick security wall created an echo chamber. I heard my nickname being called by a familiar voice and shouted back through the window: ‘Two-Five! Is that you?’

      It was. He’d been detained in an early morning raid along with Nah and Get Smart. I was shocked, my mind reeling.

      ‘Why?’ I shouted.

      ‘Stutters!’ was the response.

      This put me in a state of panic, my heart and head throbbed. What was going on?

      ‘Your stutters are back?’ I asked.

      ‘No, no, no,’ Two-Five responded. ‘I don’t stutter anymore. My stutters are gone! Don’t worry about that.’

      ‘Where are Nah and Get Smart dossing?’

      ‘In the same porsie as Mamduna.’

      Over the years my family, as many families do, had developed its own language, a mixture of words and phrases to keep things incomprehensible to any listening ears.

      Two-Five was my younger brother, Shamim. As a boy he could never get the address of the family home correct. He would always say two-five instead of twenty-five. Hence his nickname: Two-Five. Nah was Yunis’s nickname. Get Smart was the name of our father and Mamduna was mine. ‘Stutters’ was the code name we used for Ebrahim. I understood from Shamim’s message that Ebrahim was safe and had escaped capture. I was relieved.

      The word ‘dossing’ is Durban slang for ‘sleeping’, and ‘porsie’ means ‘house’. I had asked in classical Durban slang if Yunis and Lambie had been detained. Shamim’s response put them at CR Swart Square. As he was part of the MJK support structures, he was called upon from time to time to assist our underground work.

      What I couldn’t figure out was why Ebrahim’s escape had led to Shamim’s detention. Nor could I risk asking him directly, even in our code language, as I was afraid the security police might be listening. Perhaps his arrest was pure vindictiveness on the part of the Security Branch. I suspected that my father had been detained because he’d bought Ebrahim’s car. Even though I was concerned about their detention I knew that there was no direct evidence linking them to Ebrahim’s activities. Their involvement had not come up in my interrogation sessions.

      What I did not know was that the radio I’d given Shamim for safekeeping had been found. Its serial number matched the box the Security Branch had found in Ebrahim’s apartment which led them to suspect that he’d stayed at Shamim’s place.

      What disturbed me the most was Yunis’s detention. How had the Security Branch known about his involvement? I ruled out the possibility that Shirish had said anything. If this had been the case, surely, I would have been interrogated about my false statement. It was then that I remembered Lieutenant Botha’s sarcastic comment. It was my phone call to Yunis that implied his involvement. I had let down my brother, the head of the unit. I berated myself for this carelessness.

      On the prison wall, using a rusty nail I’d found in the cell, I scraped the words: ‘We are here because we fought for freedom against oppression. We are here because we fought for justice against injustice but most of all we are here because we made mistakes! Learn from them!’

      Unbeknown to me, on the night that I was detained and after my phone call to him, Yunis had smuggled Ebrahim out

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