The Garden of Burning Sand

“Bring her Johnny Cash. She’ll love you forever.”


They left the garage and drove into a world alive with sunlight. Jan navigated the N12 to the Eastern Bypass and sped north to the N1, paying no attention to the speed limit. As they flew across the bronze hills of Gauteng, Jan surprised Zoe again. Beginning with the day he met Charity in a classroom in Livingstone, he told Zoe the story of the girl she was before he broke her heart, before Frederick Nyambo and Lusaka and prostitution and AIDS. Listening to him, Zoe knew that he had loved her and that in some ways he still did.

They left the expressway on the south side of Pretoria and drove through Wingate Park to Pretoria Wellness Hospital. Ultramodern in its design, the medical center sat on a sprawling, tree-shaded campus within sight of a golf course. They parked in the lot and entered the atrium-like lobby. Zoe was immediately struck by the warmth of the place. The walls were decorated with artwork and the air was full of natural light.

A woman at the reception desk directed them to a waiting area not far from the operating room. They walked together down a corridor lined with floral prints. Zoe imagined Kuyeya in theater, sleeping beneath the lights, a team of surgeons working to fuse her vertebrae and relieve the tension that could have severed her spinal cord. You’re going to make it, she thought. I know you will.

She found Joseph and Sister Irina in the waiting area.

The nun embraced her. “God will bless you for this.”

“Thank him,” Zoe replied, introducing Jan. “He made it happen.”

She turned to Joseph and all but ran into his arms. She had only been away for four days, but it felt like a month. “I missed you,” she said, nestling her head against his chest.

“I missed you, too,” he said, kissing her forehead.

After a while, he led her to a pair of chairs beneath a window. “Guess who I put in jail a couple of days ago?” he asked with a grin.

She felt a rush of excitement. “Dunstan Sisilu?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he said, shaking his head. “His name is Eddie Mpungu—the leader of the gang that attacked us in Kanyama.”

Her eyes widened. “You found him.”

“At Soweto Market. I charged him with assaulting a police officer and told him if he ever touched another girl without permission I’d turn him into a eunuch.”

Zoe laughed, feeling a deep measure of satisfaction. “What about the Post?” she asked. “Have they done anything with the story Sarge gave them?”

Joseph nodded. “It was on the front page yesterday. The reporter asked a lot of unflattering questions about the Nyambos and raised a hint of doubt about the Court. What is it you say in English? He smelled a rodent.”

She smiled brightly. “A rat.”

“Right. Sarge is confident he’ll continue to dig. Who knows what he might find?”

Around two o’clock, a fair-haired doctor entered the waiting area. He introduced himself as Dr. Jacobs, the orthopedic surgeon.

“Dr. Kruger,” he said, spotting Jan. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Pleasure,” Jan replied. “How did it go?”

“She’s lucky to be alive,” the surgeon replied. “The subluxation of the atlas was so pronounced that she could have been crippled getting out of bed. She’ll be in a hard collar for three weeks and a soft collar for several months, but she should be okay.”

Zoe closed her eyes, her relief complete. “When can we see her?” she asked.

“She’s sleeping now,” the surgeon said. “The nurse will let you know when she’s awake and can take visitors.”

After he left, Zoe gave Sister Irina a long hug.

“I was afraid we would lose her,” the nun said. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“She’ll be back in the garden soon,” Zoe said.

She sat down beside Joseph and checked her email again. Her heart skipped a beat. She had a new message from Monica Kingsley. She opened it with trepidation.

Zoe, I had a conference call with the board this morning. It pains me greatly to say this, but they voted against us. They were very sympathetic, of course, but they were concerned about the precedent it would set. I’m so sorry. In lieu of institutional support, I would like to make a personal contribution of $2,000. Best of luck putting together the funding for this very worthy cause. I have no doubt you will succeed.

“Damn it,” Zoe said under her breath. Though the board’s decision didn’t shock her, it disappointed her greatly. She stood up and turned to Joseph. “I need to make some phone calls. Text me when the nurse says we can see her.”

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