Rage - Smith Wilbur (книги читать бесплатно без регистрации .TXT) 📗
She had always been popular with the other nurses, and her winning personality, her capacity for hard work and her unselfish attitude had seen her emerge, not only as one of the most senior nursing staff for her age, but also as an example and a trend-setter amongst the younger nurses. There were women ten and fifteen years older than she was, who listened now to her with attention and who applauded her when she paused for breath. Yheir applause and approval bolstered Victoria and her voice took on a sharper tone.
'Across the land our leaders, in actions rather than pale words, are showing the oppressors that we will no longer remain passive and acquiescent. They are crying to the world for justice and humanity.
What kind of women will we be if we stand aside and refuse to join them? How can we ignore the fact that our leaders are being arrested and harassed by the infernal laws --' There was a stir in the crowd of uniformed nurses, and the faces which had been lifted towards Victoria turned away and the expressions of rapt concentration changed to consternation. From the edges of the crowd one or two of the nurses broke away and scuttled back up the steps of the nurses' home.
Three police vans had driven up to the gates, and the white matron and two of her senior staff had hurried out to confer with the police captain in charge of the contingent as he alighted from the leading vehicle. The matron's white tunic and skirt contrasted with the blue of the police uniforms, and she was pointing at Victoria and talking animatedly to the captain.
Victoria's voice faltered, and despite her resolve, she was afraid. It was an instinctive and corrosive fear. From her earliest remembered childhood the blue police uniforms had been symbols of unquestionable might and authority. To defy them now went against all her instincts and the teaching of her father and all her elders.
'Do not challenge the white man,' they had taught her. 'For his wrath is more terrible than the summer fires that consume the veld.
None can stand before it." Then she remembered Moses Gama, and her voice firmed; she beat down her fear and cried aloud, 'Look at yourselves, my sisters.
See how you tremble and cast your eyes down at the sight of the oppressor. He has not yet spoken nor raised a hand to you, but you have become little children!" The police captain left the group at the gate and came to the edge of the lawn. There he paused and raised a bull-horn to his lips.
'This is an illegal gathering on state-owned property." His voice was magnified and distorted. 'You have five minutes to disperse and return to your quarters." He raised his arm and ostentatiously checked his wristwatch. 'If you have not done so in that time --' The nurses were scattering already, scampering away, not waiting for the officer to complete his warning, and Victoria found herself alone on the wide lawn. She wanted to run and hide also, but she thought about Moses Gama and her pride would not let her move.
The police officer lowered his loud-hailer and turned back to the white matron. They conferred again, and the officer showed her a sheaf of paper which he took from his despatch case. The mattoil nodded and they both looked at Victoria again. Alone now, she still stood at the top of the lawn. Pride and fear held her rigid. She stood stiffly, unable to move as the police captain marched across to where she stood.
'Victoria Dinizulu? he asked her in a normal conversational voice, so different from the hoarse booming of the loud-hailer.
Victoria nodded, and then remembered. 'No,' she denied. 'I am Victoria Gama." The police officer looked confused. He was very fair-skinned with a fine blond mustache. 'I was told you were Victoria Dinizulu - there has been a mess-up,' he muttered, and then he blushed with embarrassment and immediately Victoria felt sorry for him.
'I got married,' she explained. 'My maiden name was Victoria Dinizulu, but now I am Victoria Gama." 'Oh, I see." The captain looked relieved, and glanced down at the document in his hand. 'It's made out to Victoria Dinizulu. I suppose it's still all right though." He was uncertain again.
'It's not your fault,' Victoria consoled him. 'The wrong name, I mean. They can't blame you. You couldn't have known." 'No, you're right." The captain perked up visibly. 'It's not my fault.
I'll just serve it on you anyway. They can sort it out back at HQ." 'What is it?" Victoria asked curiously.
'It's a banning order,' the captain explained. He showed it to her.
'It's signed by the minister of police. I have to read it to you, then you have to sign it,' he explained and then he looked contrite. 'I'm sorry, it's my duty." 'That is all right." Vicky smiled at him. 'You have to do your duty." He looked down at the document again and began to read aloud:
TO VICTORIA THANDELA DINIZUL. U
Notice in terms of Section 9(i) of the Internal Security Act 1950 (Act of 1950). Whereas 1, Manfred De La Rey, Minister of Police, am satisfied that you are engaged in activities which endanger or are calculated to endanger the maintenance of public order -The captain stumbled over the more complicated legal phraseology and mispronounced some of the English words. Vicky corrected him helpfully. The banning document was four typewritten pages, and the policeman reached the end of it with patent relief.
'You have to sign here." He offered her the document.
q don't have a pen." 'Here, use mine." 'Thank you,' said Victoria.
'You are very kind." She signed her name in the space provided and as she handed him back his pen, she had ceased to be a complete person. Her banning order prohibited her from being in the company of more than two other persons at any one time, except in the course of her daily work, of addressing any gathering or preparing any written article for publication. It confined her physically to the magisterial area of Johannesburg and required that she remain under house arrest for twelve hours of the day and also that she report daily to her local police station.
'I'm sorry,' the police captain repeated, as he screwed the top back on his pen. 'You seem a decent girl." 'It's your job,' Victoria smiled back at him. 'Don't feel bad about it." Over the following days Victoria retreated into the strange halfworld of isolation. During working hours she found that her peers and superiors avoided her, as though she were a carrier of plague.
The matron moved her out of the room that she shared with two other nursing sisters and she was given a small single room on the unpopular southern side of the hostel which never received the sun in winter. In this room her meals were served to her on a tray as she was prohibited from using the dining-hall when more than two other persons were present. Each evening after coming off shift she made the two-mile walk down to the police station to sign the register, but this soon became a pleasant outing rather than a penance. She was able to smile and greet the people she passed on the street for they did not know she was a non-person and she enjoyed even that fleeting human contact.
Alone in her room she listened to her portable radio and read the books that Moses had given her, and thought about him. More than once she heard his name on the radio. Apparently a controversial film had been shown on the NABS television channel in the United States which had created a furore across the continent. It seemed that South Africa, which for most Americans was a territory remote as the moon and a thousand times less important, was suddenly a political topic. In the film Moses Gama had figured largely, and such was his presence and stature that he had been accepted abroad as the central figure in the African struggle. In the United Nations debate which had followed the television film, nearly every one of the speakers had referred to Moses Gama. Although the motion in the General Assembly calling for the condemnation of South Africa's racial discrimination had beerr vetoed in the Security Council by Great Britain, the debate had sent a ripple across the world and a cold shiver down the spine of the white government in the country.
