Whenever Noria went to the shops and came back a little bit late, Napu would lock her out. She would knock at the door, and at the small window of the shack. Inside the shack Vutha would wreak havoc, standing by the window, throwing plates at Napu, and shouting, ‘Open for my mother, you Napu! Open for my mother!’ Napu would finally open the door for Noria, and after she entered the shack she would say, ‘Vutha, my child, why are you so stupid? You will be a koata forever. I am only a few minutes late and you lock me out.’ And Vutha would respond, ‘It is Napu who is stupid, mama.’
That Mountain Woman finally died in peace at the hospital. Her funeral was an impressively big one, with many people from faraway villages coming to pay their last respects. It was only after her death that we saw how popular she had been. Noria was the Nurse at the funeral, and she moved many of those attending when she vividly described the painful road that her mother took to the other world; a road so long that it took her more than two years of pain to travel. She proudly explained that her mother did not just succumb like a coward, but fought bravely against death. She was much of a fighter in death as she had been in life. Even the specialists from the city had exclaimed in wonderment, as people who suffered from her disease did not last that long, but died within six months.
We were amazed at the dignity with which Noria carried out her heavy and heart-rending task. Some of us had objected when she was made the Nurse. We thought she was too young and inexperienced for such a grave responsibility. But we were told that it was her mother’s wish that she should be the Nurse. And there she was, doing such a great job!
After the funeral Noria did not stay at her home, even though Xesibe pleaded with her to stay for a few days while certain traditional rituals were performed. She insisted on going back to her shack in town, and spoke bitter words to her father.
‘You never even went to see my mother when she was in hospital.’
‘I did, Noria. I did.’
‘Only three times in two years! Don’t deny it, you are glad she is dead.’
‘I loved your mother, Noria.’
When she returned to her shack, however, she was dumbfounded to find it empty. Not even her own clothes were left. Noria knew immediately that Napu had finally carried out a threat he had sometimes made in his drunken moments: that one day he was going to kidnap Vutha and run away with him to a place where Noria would never find them. At the time, Noria had thought this was just an idle threat.
Noria spent days on end looking for Vutha. The police did not even try to help. They said it was a family matter. Finally, after months of searching, she gave up. By now she was a broken woman who had lost everything that meant something in her life. Still, she was absolutely convinced that one day Vutha would return to her. She decided to go to the city, to start a new life.
The stories of the past are painful. But when Toloki and Noria talk about them, they laugh. Laughter is known to heal even the deepest of wounds. Noria’s laughter has the power to heal troubled souls. This afternoon, as the two of them sit in front of the shanty, exhausted from building last night’s creation, and refreshing themselves with stories of the past and soured porridge, Toloki lavishly bathes his soul in her laughter.
‘Well, Noria, I think I must go back to my headquarters now. My clients must be looking for me.’
‘How do they usually find you, Toloki?’
‘Oh, at other funerals. Those who know where I live usually leave a message in my trolley.’
‘Toloki, you have helped me so much. I really don’t know how to thank you enough.’
‘Your laughter is enough thanks for me, Noria.’
‘No, Toloki, it is not thanks enough. It would mean that we have not grown from the days when I gave pleasure, and was paid with favours. Remember, I am going to pay you back.’
‘I understand why it is important for you to pay me back, Noria. I do not object.’
‘Am I going to see you again, Toloki?’
‘For surely you will, Noria. I’ll visit you now and then, if you don’t mind, that is.’
‘Of course not, I would like to see you again, silly.’
They walk together to the taxi rank in the middle of the settlement. As usual, Toloki is the centre of attraction. Heads peer inquisitively from the small doors of shanties. Passers-by gawk at them.
‘Why do you prefer to use taxis? Trains are cheaper.’
‘Indeed they are cheaper. But these days there is a lot of death in the trains.’
Noria laughs. She agrees that people die everyday in the trains, but jokingly asks if Toloki is afraid to die, even though his daily work involves death. Toloki returns the laughter, and says that it is true that death is his constant companion, but where one can avoid one’s own death, one must do so. He has a mission in the world, that of mourning for the dead. It is imperative that he does his utmost to stay alive, so that he can fulfil his sacred trust, and mourn for the dead.
‘Fortunately my mourning for the dead makes it possible for me to avoid death by using alternative transport.’
‘It is a pity that the people who die every day in the trains die because they want to earn a living for their children. They have no means of using alternative transport. Thank God some have survived, and live to tell the story.’
She tells him the story of one of the residents of the settlement who escaped death by a hair’s breadth only last week. He was waiting at the station when a group of men believed to be migrants from the hostels got off the train. As usual they were armed with sticks, and spears, and battleaxes, and homemade guns. He tried to board the train, but some of the men pulled him down on to the platform by his jacket. They demanded to know what ethnic group he belonged to. He told them, and it happened to be the same clan the men belonged to. They said that if he was a member of their ethnic group, then why was he not with them? Another one shouted, ‘This dog is lying! He does not belong to our people. He is of the southern people who are our enemies!’
A man wielding a knife rushed towards this resident of the settlement, and was about to stab him. But the resident escaped and ran along the platform shouting for help. He ran towards a group of security guards, whom he thought would come to his rescue. To his amazement, the security guards turned on their heels and fled. The resident jumped onto the railway line and hid under a train. He clung for dear life to the axles with both hands and feet, suspending his body between the railway sleepers and the bottom of the train floor.
The migrants jumped onto the railway line to look for him. They started shoving spears and pangas underneath the train. Fortunately he was protected by the train wheels, and the weapons could not reach him.
After a while the migrants left, and the train driver came to his rescue. He told the terrified man to get into the driver’s cabin, as some of the migrants were still milling about on the platform. The driver then drove the train to another station, where the resident realised for the first time that he had been stabbed in the eye.