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264
pages
English
Ebook
2019
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Publié par
Date de parution
01 septembre 2019
Nombre de lectures
0
EAN13
9781770106949
Langue
English
The doctors and nurses at a small hospital in an African town are fighting an uphill battle against the Aids pandemic, made worse by the interventions of Holmes, the budget-conscious superintendent, and his bungling sidekick, Thunderbird.
The rebellious and profane Morgan thwarts every new rule in his quest to save his patients, most of whom are dying because they lack the resources to buy back their lives with over-priced drugs. His efforts are valiantly supported by the enigmatic Oumar, the likeable Kenyan, the beautiful Violet, and Rebecca, the battleaxe with a heart of gold. Then there is Mary, with her passion for birds, holding Morgan’s heart in her frail hands; Naledi, the success story, who is brought back from the brink of death; and Rastodika, the untameable spirit.
When funds are needed for a kidney transplant, Morgan conspires with Father Michael; Dorcas, the shebeen queen; and Rachel, the whore, to make the rich Mr B organise a Beerfest to pay for the operation. But then things don’t work out exactly as they had planned.
Publié par
Date de parution
01 septembre 2019
Nombre de lectures
0
EAN13
9781770106949
Langue
English
Praise for Father Michael’s Lottery
‘ Father Michael’s Lottery is a great-spirited novel that tells its tale – about a committed doctor’s search for more “happy endings” in all-too-unpromising circumstances – with heart and passion and hope. The telling is fired by Johan Steyn’s fervour for justice for poor patients in Africa, but also by his sense of humour and his love of the people, the birds, the animals and the vistas of our continent.’
– EDWIN CAMERON
‘ Father Michael’s Lottery is a novel filled with verve, humour, and, above all, a hope for Africa and those afflicted with Aids.’
– MARGARET DRABBLE
‘ Father Michael’s Lottery is in a class of its own. In a series of tragi-comic poignant vignettes, it explores the life of a community in rural Africa struggling with twin plagues of poverty and disease. Johan Steyn’s achievement is to handle his subject with a light touch, in prose that makes the precarious spaces of death-in-life, and life-in-death, strangely human and inhabitable.’
– DAVID ATTWELL
In memory of Johan Steyn
(2 June 1947 to 22 August 2016)
There are many people who are alive today because of your efforts. All of us whose lives you touched with kindness, compassion, truth, honesty, integrity and passion will forever be grateful.
‘To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.’
– RALPH WALDO EMERSON
For Hannes Meyer – surgeon, mentor and friend – who always spoke his mind … and cared about the things that really mattered.
Father Michael’s Lottery
A Novel
Johan Steyn
PICADOR AFRICA
First published in 2005 by University of KwaZulu-Natal Press
This edition published in 2019 by Picador Africa
an imprint of Pan Macmillan South Africa
Private Bag X19
Northlands
Johannesburg, 2116
www.panmacmillan.co.za
ISBN 978-1-77010-693-2
e-ISBN 978-1-77010-694-9
In the original novel © Johan Steyn 2005
In this revised edition © Inez Steyn 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to events or places or actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover design by K4
Publisher’s note
I first met Johan Steyn in 2004 in Pietermaritzburg. He was, on first impressions, an unlikely author. A cardiac surgeon who had worked with Dr Chris Barnard and travelled extensively, Johan was living and working as a doctor in the small town of Orapa, in Botswana. He was self-deprecating about his life and achievements, but passionate about his patients, his Land Cruiser and about spending time in the bush, filming, taking photographs and drawing the wildlife he encountered. We shared a mutual love of rock climbing and the mountains, and spent several enjoyable weeks working closely together on the editing of Father Michael’s Lottery . I felt at the time – and still do – that the novel is a stand-out South African classic. I am delighted that it has a well-deserved new lease of life as a title in the Picador Africa Heritage Series.
Andrea Nattrass
July 2019
Author’s note
I started writing this novel when antiretroviral drugs were available only to the privileged few. Since then there has been some progress, but in many parts of Africa the conditions described in this novel still prevail and the majority of people living with HIV/Aids don’t have free access to antiretroviral drugs.
Poverty, apathy, a lack of education, the disadvantaged position of women in the Third World, inadequate medical facilities and bureaucratic bungling all play a role in the propagation of the disease. These problems were compounded by the fact that antiretroviral drugs were prohibitively expensive when they first became available.
Botswana is the one country in southern Africa that has approached this pandemic effectively. Here Aids was declared a national emergency and a dynamic antiretroviral programme was instituted, with the aim of making antiretroviral drugs available to every citizen.
Several private individuals have made it their mission to fund treatment for people living with HIV/Aids. Notable among them are Bill Gates, Bill Clinton and Nelson Mandela.
Unfortunately, in many parts of the world, the pandemic also highlights the divide between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’. The reality of this is that those who can’t afford medical care are being left out in the cold.
It is inevitable that my own views on the inequalities in medicine will emerge between the lines. I do not apologise for this.
I would like to thank several people: my long-suffering sister Inez, on whose desk I dropped the various stages of this novel; David Zetler whom I found, red-nosed with ’flu, reading the first draft; Gail Zetler who read the first completed manuscript; Elise Calitz for her valuable comments; as well as Danie Fourie, David Mead, Lourenza Foghill, Pierre Lucouw, Tienie Myburgh and Pohl de Villiers. Very special thanks to Andrea Nattrass for the final editing and to Glenn Cowley and his team at the University of KwaZulu-Natal Press for the first edition of this novel.
Johan Steyn
Orapa, June 2005
1
On the whereabouts of a dead cat
TO: The Veterinary Department
FROM: Dr John Morgan
I am enquiring about the whereabouts of a dead cat that I dispatched to your office on Monday a week ago. The cat had bitten a man and his two dogs and there is a suspicion that it might have been rabid. Unfortunately the owner of the dogs killed the cat. I sealed the body of the cat in a cool-box, in formalin, and sent it to the veterinary surgeon after discussing the matter with him.
I have not heard anything from your office and I have been unable to trace the veterinary surgeon.
I am sending this message to you with the owner of the two dogs.
Please send me the laboratory report as soon as possible.
TO: Dr John Morgan
FROM: The Veterinary Department
We acknowledge the receipt of your note regarding the dead cat. Unfortunately we have been unable to trace it.
We advise you, for safety’s sake, to vaccinate the owner.
The veterinary surgeon is away in the district and will only be back in six weeks’ time.
TO: The Veterinary Department
FROM: Dr John Morgan
I have already started vaccinating the owner. Didn’t he tell you?
It is difficult to understand how the specimen could have been lost, since it was accompanied by a covering letter and was delivered to the veterinary surgeon’s house by the Constable himself.
Please try to locate it, since it could pose a serious health risk if it landed in the wrong hands.
TO: Dr John Morgan
FROM: The Veterinary Department
We have discovered a blue cool-box containing two carry packs of beer.
What colour was yours?
TO: The Veterinary Department
FROM: Dr John Morgan
My cool-box was blue.
So where is the cat?
2
Another arrival
M ORGAN CLEARLY REMEMBERED the day Mary was brought in. As always, the pick-up truck was spotted even before it started to reverse towards the entrance. The doors with the frosted glass panes were opened, orders were shouted and Rebecca went outside to inspect the cargo before the makeshift ambulance came to a halt. Casualty was chaotic as usual, but Morgan paused and watched.
On the back, wedged between two spare wheels, a drum of fuel and a toolbox was a bright, multicoloured blanket. The head of a girl rested on two white, dust-covered pillows. The truck reversed carefully until it was in the shade just outside the entrance. Rebecca waited, together with two nurses and a trolley. When the pick-up came to a halt, she commandeered two fit-looking bystanders to lift the girl off the back. She had obviously underestimated their enthusiasm and before she could stop them, both men had jumped over the tailgate. One of them scooped the girl into his arms and stood up, holding her like a baby, with her head resting against his chest.
Rebecca straightened her back. She put her hands on her hips. Due to the noise in the room Morgan couldn’t hear what she was saying.
Both men froze. The man holding the girl stood like a statue and his comrade carefully climbed down again. Then, with an air of exaggerated gentleness, they passed the girl from one to the other. The blanket slipped away. As it fell to the ground, Morgan saw the thin figure of the girl.
Rebecca moved forward and supported the head. They lowered the girl onto the trolley and Morgan saw a thin arm reaching out as if to assist in the proceedings. One of the men picked up the blanket and vigorously shook off the dust. It was a patched quilt of red, green, orange and blue. The girl lay flat on the trolley and underneath her flimsy dress her pelvic bones stuck out like wings.
The driver of the truck walked up to Rebecca. He was carrying a brown envelope that he handed to her with both hands. She took it, pointed at the truck and shouted a command. One of the pillows was removed, dusted and placed under the girl’s head. Finally, she was covered with the blanket and the procession came into Casualty.
‘Everyone is coming here today,’ Rebecca said as they came past. She handed Morgan the discharge summary from yet another overcrowded hospital and took the girl to the resuscitation room.
He removed the file from the envelope, paged through the notes and read about yet another tragedy. The language wa