Susan Gibbs - Call Of The Litany Bird: Surviving The Zimbabwe Bush War

Duncans approaching death, unlike so many others at the time, was brought about by natural causes. It was October 1977, the hottest, driest month of the year in what was then Rhodesia, and a month after his thirty-sixth birthday.

Standing in the hospital room that day, already grieving and longing somehow to snatch him back, to slam shut the door of death before he went through, I was dimly aware that some deep place within me also held a sense of gratitude gratitude for thirteen years of a never-dull marriage, for two wonderful children, for the fun hed brought to life, and gratitude too that his was not a violent death.

Wed woken early that morning, just as the sky was lightening, and I got out of bed and opened the curtains so we could watch the dawn; but as I turned back to speak to him and saw the blood trickling from his mouth I knew. I called Paul Fehrsen, our GP, from the phone in the study. Within ten minutes he arrived at the house, quickly followed by Eric Cohen, the consultant, a friend of ours who, on his way to the hospital, happened to pass Paul on the road.

One glance at Duncan told them there was no time to call an ambulance and after gently carrying him to Erics car we sped off to the Medical Complex. He joked about Erics driving on the way. You crazed already? he said, playing with Erics Jewishness, After all, only last week a stray hippo was shot wandering down here, this Cecil Avenue? Run into its wife, whos probably out looking for him by now, and well all end up on the ward.

The Private Ward of the Bulawayo Central Hospital was my ward, the one I worked on part-time at night, and I knew Sister Matheson, the ward sister, well. She gave us two large private rooms next door to each other which opened out on to a wide verandah, and in one of them, during the long hours as Duncan drifted in and out of consciousness, Duncans brother John, his wife Fam and other close friends set up a quiet vigil. Some stayed the whole day, popping in from the verandah to check on us from time to time, taking care not to intrude.

As the day wore on the early morning chill gave way to stifling heat.

Its obvious why they call it suicide month Sister Matheson said, just for something to say, as she topped up jugs of iced water. Nothing we can do about it here, and the fans are quite inadequate.

The morning wore on and from time to time, as word spread quickly round Bulawayo, more friends arrived to offer their support and then, seeing there was nothing they could do, left again.

Late in the afternoon, after a long, hot day, Duncan quietly and naturally slipped away.