Krotoa was minding Abraham when Doman showed up with the suitcases of the Commissioner. She walked up to him. 'You were away all this time, and this is how you greet your own people?"
"Get lost Dutch slave."
"Batavia swallowed your manners."
'There is a slave woman here at your master's Fort. She needs help. The soldiers will not allow me there, but you should have no problem.'
"You get lost, Batavian Hottentoo."
"What did you say?"
She burst out laughing. "That's what they said about you while you were away. Now I hear you are Anthony. What happened to Domineer?"
"I warn you, little lickspittle. If I close this fist-"
"I know, I know. You'll open my grave." She laughed and retreated. "Join the queue."
"As I said. There's a woman-"
"Not my business."
'Then I will make it your business." He moves towards her. "I know what you and Autshumao had been up to."
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"Help her. Or I will make a lot of trouble for you and Autshumao with your Commander."
"Since when do you care about women. Or slaves?"
'Since I have been to Batavia."
"Think you better than me now?"
"If you know what is good for you, Krotoa, burn those clogs and their stupid clothes. You look ridiculous."
"Says the one in his master's rags. If your chief sees you now, he will hold a ritual to cleanse you."
"Unlike you, these clothes mean nothing to me." He put his hand on his heart. "In here," he said and took a step towards her, "I am Nommoa from the Goringhaiqua." Then he touched his head. "Up here, I am not a Dutchman. But you, Krotoa, try to curry favour with that Commander of yours. For once, bring honour to Tsui and our ancestors and help that woman."
Krotoa laughed. So loud and so infectious it made Nommoa fidget with his oversized jacket. "Nommoa found a woman he likes?" She kicked off her clogs and shuffled around in the sand, kicking her feet rhythmically back and forth, back, and forth in a rhythmic dance, twirling around and around, her arms wrapped around her shoulders while kissing the air in an animated manner.
"Beware, Autshumao says love is dangerous."
"What does he know about love?"
"If she is a slave, she is not for sale. Not to you." She chuckled. "Who would have thought-"
"Krotoa!"
"No need for that. Ask nicely and I will see what I can do."
He scoffed. "Take enough water and salves. She has an angry wound." He picked up the bags and made his way to the Commander's entrance.
***
On his way out he stopped and stared at the shed where Susanna was held. Once outside the gates of the fort he made his way through the forest, all the way to the other side of the mountain.
When the makeshift huts of the Goringhaiqua were in sight, he took off his clothes, wrapped them in an animal skin and removed the other skins from the hole where he buried them before his departure.
He put on the loin cloth made from the lion he had killed, positioning the tail between his legs. He selected the strings of bones, beads and feathers and attached then around his neck, arms, and ankles.
He rubbed two sticks together until he had a fire. When it burnt bright against the darkness of the forest his feet, eyes and ears knew so well, he lit his pipe and savoured the sweet, intoxicating green herbs. Transported, he lifted his dilated pupils to the mountain. The bones, teeth, skin, and hair of all the dead animals that he had ever hunted became alive. They dug into his flesh. He heard them; he saw their eyes, bright as a hot February sun drifting towards him, through the white plumes of his daccha pipe. Closer and closer they came. Their eyes glowed like hot coles and burnt into his heart, and the heat of their breath scorched his skin while he muttered over and over. "Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?"
***
Curiosity about the slave who bewitched Nommoa gripped Krotoa. Nommoa who was not easily drawn into the charms and schemes of women. It made Krotoa restless.
When night fell and all was quiet around the Commander's household she made her way to the kitchen. Shoes clutched in her free hand she tiptoed to the kitchen.
Maria was sleeping at the bottom of the fireplace, covered with her grey blanket. She lifted her head. 'Where are you off to at this late hour?'
"I must lit a lantern."
"Where are you off to? Must you deliver a message at this ungodly hour?"
Krotoa shook her head and put her fingers on her lips signalling that she must be quiet. "I cannot sleep."
"You cannot be outside without permission of the Commander. I'll get into trouble if you take a lantern."
"You never saw me. Ands ii never spoke to you. Go back to sleep. You'll wake them up," she whispered and glanced at the sleeping faces of Angela and Lijsbeth.
"Whatever you're up to, you're on your own." She pulled the blanket tighter and put her head down again.
From the back she made her way to the front of the Fort, a huge, cobbled square fenced in all around. Armed soldiers kept guard on top of the high, pointed palisades, their eyes scanning the darkness beyond the security of the high walls. Below them, on the inside, were more soldiers patrolling the grounds in the limited light of the fires. They hardly glanced at her when she passed them. In the distance, to the left of the cobbled square was an outbuilding. She walked up to the two guards huddled around the fire and put on the shoes.
"Stop," ordered one of the guards upon her approach.
"What for?"
"Nobody's allowed near the convict."
"I am here on business for the Commander."
"You only have a lantern. Where is your permission for being outside at this hour?"
She looked at the soldier next to him. "This one new?"
"None of your business. You need permission from the Commander to be outside after ten."
"And who gave you permission to bring slave women to your quarters at night? If you do not let me pass, I am reporting you to the Commander at first light."
She stared them down. They shared a joke between the two of them, laughed and stepped aside. "Be quick," said one of them.
"Susanna?" Krotoa whispered. Silence greeted the uncertain advance of the wooden cloggs. "Susanna?" Somewhere in the blackness the sound of chains signalled movement. The silhouette sat upright, arms wrapped around her knees peering into space, a cloth around her head.
Krotoa tugged at the animal pouch that hanged over her shoulder and rested on the waist of her dress that reached all the way onto her shoes. She flopped down next to Susanna. "Nommoa sent me. " Susanna did not stir. She gestured to the cloth tied around her head. "May I? He said you needed help." When Susanna nodded, she held out the lantern. "Take it and hold it up. I cannot see." Susanna held onto it while Krotoa positioned herself on her knees and untied the crusty knots. "This next step might hurt, but I promise not to pull too hard." She spoke without stopping much for breath. On and on she went about many things. None of which made much sense to Susanna. "There." She separated the cloth from the oozing patch where her ear used to be, took the lantern from Susanna and inspected the wound at close range. Then she shone the light into Susanna's eyes. "My name is Krotoa." When her attempted introduction was met with a stare and more silence, she went ahead and cleaned the wound with soft strokes. Satisfied with her attempt she brought forth a container with ointment. "Here at the Fort they call me Eva." When the lid came off it released an aroma which elicited some reaction from the slave woman. Krotoa followed her eyes which were glued to the green mixture in her hand. "Do not be afraid. It is only ointment." She pointed to the missing ear area. "It will heal that."
"I know that smell."
"Impossible. Only my people make this. It saved-"
Krotoa fell back and jumped to her feet. "You speak Dutch? Of course. You were a slave in Batavia."
"I am not a slave."
Krotoa took the lantern from her and dangled the light over her body, and on the chains around her ankles before she brought it back to her face. "I understand. Shame. For some of you it takes a long time to accept-"
"I am not a slave."
The young girl shrugged her shoulders, passed the lantern back to Susanna. She scooped up a blob of the green pulp.
"Nommoa treated my ear with it on the ship."
'Yes, Tsui gave my people wisdom about herbs that cure pain and bad spirits. Our herbs are not afraid of the poison of the snake. Or the teeth of wild animals. It will drive away that evil in your ear.' She took the lantern, once more, and lifted it to Susanna's eyes. 'But this is not the right medicine for the bees in your head...'
'Your name-'
'Call me Krotoa or Eva. It does not matter.'
'Your name matters.'
'Not anymore. It did, when I lived with Autshumao but when the ships came, he sent me to live with the Commander. Now I help madam Riebeeck with Abraham and interpret for master Riebeeck when they want cattle from my people. That was when I only had the wisdom of ten winters. Now I have the wisdom of sixteen winters.'
'Why don't you leave?'
'I tried. Autshumao sent me back when the Commander came for me.'
Susanna was quiet before she spoke again.' Do you know the meaning of your name?
'I am not sure. Master says women that cause trouble are called Eva.' She chuckled. 'He said he had a feeling that I will cause many troubles and that is why he gave me that name.'
'You are not a slave. What is wrong with your own name?'
'Madam Riebeeck says Eva is a better name.'
'For who?'
Krotoa shrugged her shoulders. 'You are a slave. A convict like Groote Catrijn. And Angela. They don't care.'
'I do.'
'When my mother left me with Autshumao called me Krotoa. He was my protector. When he smoked too much of the green herbs, he used to say I have the right name because I will always need protection.'
'And you think he is right?'
'He is wise. But the Commander is clever.' She stood back and examined Susanna. 'And you, slave woman? Can you change your name?'
'I am not a slave. I am Kishmia,' came the reply. Susanna rubbed her ankles where the irons had dug into the bone and left the skin scarred and inflamed.
Krotoa put her hand over her mouth and stepped back. 'Listen to me,' she whispered, eyes big and wide. She bent down and applied the last of the salve around the scarred ankles. 'Never mention that name. If they ask your name, you say it is Susanna. I asked Catrijn, and she said your name was Susanna van Bengal. That is your name now. Do you understand?'
'I know who I am. That is not my name.'
Krotoa pointed at her. 'Here you are a convict, a nobody, no higher than the cows or the sheep. Do you know what that means?'
'I was in Batavia.'
'It is all Doman's fault. Only he is capable of such mischief,' she muttered. She stopped and stared at Susanna. 'They will throw you on the island where the sun never warms your bones and the wind and salt rob you of your eyes and your mind. They will beat you and the cold will drive you mad.' She bent down and took the slave woman's hands. 'Nobody wants to go there. Not even poor Eva who lives on the island with her son. Now her head is full of mad spirits-'
'Another Eva?'
'That Eva and her son are slaves. They live on the island with Catherine who got her freedom from the Commander and married cripple Jan Woutersz.'
Susanna snickered. 'Beware of that name of yours. You might end up on that cold island like the other Eva.'
'Take that back.' Krotoa was beside herself.
'Take what back?'
'You cast a bad spell over my life. If you do not take it back, I will be condemned like mad Eva.'
'I am sorry. I take it back.'
'Eva is the name of the first woman in madam Maria's Bible. She says it is a good name for someone like me.'
Susanna shook her head. 'Krotoa is a good name.'
'What's wrong with both? Two names are better than one.'
When Susanna does not reply she takes off again. 'Maybe they will put you in mijnheer's house inside the fort.' She shook her head vigorously. 'No, you are a convict. They will put you on the island, but they can also put you in the garden. I will speak for you because the Commander is a good man, and he listens to me. I must only remember to ask him if he is smiling--' She sighs. 'which is never.'
'Why would he listen to you?'
Krotoa's pacing and prattling stopped, her face a veil of concern. 'You must obey them, like Groote Catrijn. She is also a convict, but she is now mijnheer's washerwoman.' She searched Susanna's face but the slave's face was not easy to interpret. 'And the other Catharine eats at mijnheer's table with cripple Jan.' She nodded. 'See, it is not so bad here. Catherine is a respectable woman now. She will soon have a baby...'
'And so they will all make their own little slave babies who will soon grow up into their own little house slaves.'
'You are a strange,' said Krotoa.
'Life is not always about marrying a man of their choice or eating at their table.'
Krotoa smiled. 'I know why Nommoa likes you. Whatever you do, do not like him back. It will be bad luck for both of you.'
Susanna smiled. 'That is a curse.'
'That is the truth. If you follow Nommoa you stay a convict until you are old, sick, and blind. Then you die... An old, sick, and blind slave because of him.'
'I will not be around that long.'
'You are young. If the Commander does not baptise you, no freedom, and no husband. See? That is how it works.'
'That is what they did in Batavia. Can't you see? They are doing the same with your people and your land... and you, Krotoa, are their first prisoner.'
'You are wrong. I am free to go wherever I want. See? No chains on me. Mijnheer is not like that. I can talk to him. He can make you the wife of an official, or a soldier-or even a Free burgher who received farms behind the lion mountain. And you will live there. See? It is not so bad.'
'I wish I were Eva,' said Susanna without lifting her head.
'I told you. You do not want to be Eva.' She giggled. 'They say Gunab put many bees in her head and now she chases the sheep. The entire day. She does not take orders or feel the cold. The bite of the whip has no effect on her.'
'Eva is free.'
'Eva is a slave. Are you even listening to me?'
'Who said Gunab had anything to do with Eva's head? It was your Tsui who put the bees there. He freed her.'
'Huh? You know Tsui?'
'Nommoa told me about your Tsui. On the ship.'
'It is not so bad...You will see.' Distracted by Susanna's eyes that got stuck on her feet, she threw her hands into the air. 'What now?'
'You wear shoes?' Her eyes moved from right to left, up and down over the strange girl's clothes. It was soft, had little flower patterns in many colours and even lace trimmings on the sleeve edges. A broad satin ribbon was tied around the forehead, secured at the back in the nape of her neck, held the soft coarse hair in place. Her skin colour was as pale as that of the Dutch, and she spoke their language with comfort and ease. 'Are you sure you are not your Mijnheer's daughter?'
Krotoa laughed. Susanna's eyes were filled with tears. She could not remember when last her ears were spoilt with the sound of laughter that flowed from the full mouth. It penetrated her soul and quelled the throbbing pain inside her head.
'What is wrong?' Krotoa's face creased as she watched Susanna take a swipe at the tears welling up in her eyes.
But the laughter stopped and all that remained was the smell, the dirty rags, and the dirt-crusted feet. 'Nothing.'
'Mijnheer's daughter? You are deaf Susanna. I told you. Autshumao sent me to interpret for the Commander.'
'You are a house slave.'
'You have much to learn. I am not a house slave like Maria, Angela, and Groote Catrijn. Look at me. I am free. I wear shoes. This is my land, and my people live on it.'
'Does this Commander pay you and your people for your land?'
'No, but he gives them tobacco, copper and bread. And brandy, sometimes wire. And beads. And they give him sheep and oxen.' When Susanna sighed, she stopped. 'Are you tired? Must I leave?'
'Tell me about your people.'
'At night we sit around the fire at the feet of Autshumao... and he tells stories of our ancestors. He also visited Batavia, and before him Xhore. They knew the ways of the white people long before the Commander came here with his ships.'
'Why did your mother leave you with Autshumao?'
'She did not like me when I opened my mouth and cried for the first time. He took me and he taught me all the ways of the Goringhaicona.'
'Why don't you go back?'
'I ran away once, but Autshumao sent me back.' Sits on her haunches, squints her eyes imitates Autshumao bringing forth a deep voice. 'Krotoa,' he said. 'Your blood is not the same colour of the powerful Chochoqua, but it is good enough for me.'
'I made you smile?'
'You did.'
'When he smokes his pipe, he says he can see the snake poison in my skin. He is a good hunter, better than Nommoa. And if he says I am safer with the Commander than with him, then I must listen to him and stay with mijnheer if I know what is good for me.'
'There are many house slaves in Batavia. They do not know they are slaves. They live and smell better than us who came with the slave ships.'
'I told you I am not a slave. He has his own house slaves. Maria and-'
'And Angela and Groote Catrijn,' Susanna interjected. 'I heard you the first time.'
'Shame. It must be that missing ear playing tricks on you.' Krotao's face and voice expressed sympathy with Susanna's loss of such a valuable body part. 'Do not worry. Soon you will hear better than the dolphin,' she said and nodded her head. 'Tell me about your people.'
The innocence of the teenager made Susanna bite her lower lip. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, so deep that her chest expanded. Transported into a meditative state she held her breath for a few seconds before she pouted her lips and released the air in her lungs at slow intervals.
'Did I say something wrong again?'
'No. You reminded me of my little sister back home. In Bengal.'
'Tell me about your home. Is it like mine? Do you have a Hoerikwagga where Tsui lives who watches over you and gives you animals to eat and herbs to heal you? And does your Hoerikwagga gives you water sweeter than the honey of the bee?'
'We do not have a mountain like your Hoerikwagga. Or a Tsui that lives above it. But in my land, it is always warm. So warm you can bathe in the sea and dance in the moonlight on summer nights with a garland of red hibiscus around your neck. Before I fall asleep at night, I close my eyes and summon the waves to my ears and the salty scent of the ocean to my nose. No matter what happens during the day, I force myself to remember the sun on my eyes and the tide washing over my body.' She pinched the tear that landed on her cheek between two fingers, rubbed them together, and returned to the presence of the pensive face. 'Have you ever been kissed by the ocean, Krotoa?'
'Yes,' came the playful reply. 'Many times-but my sea is very cold. And always in a bad mood like Autshumao and the Commander. And Nommoa.'
'I would trade the rest of my whole life for one last kiss from my ocean.'
'That I cannot promise. But I know how to survive in my land-and it starts with your name. So, from now on I will call you...let me think.' With two fingers on her lips and her face creased into a quizzical expression, she exclaimed. 'I know, Kiss, I will call you Kiss.'