NUN SENSE!

A true story based in Kwa Zulu Natal

Written by

Marilyn Mills

For the Open Category of the Witness

True Stories of Kwa Zulu Natal Competition

2014.

Nun Sense!

It was that time of day when all the children had gone back to their classes after the last break.   The corridors were quiet at last and the school settled back into rhythm after a very hectic break.   It was lunch time.

In the office where I worked the school break was always a very busy time of the day as we took money, sorted out queries, gave out headache tablets, had children phoning parents with changed timetables or sports clothes that were left behind, chatted to teachers and generally tried not to have a nervous breakdown.   A school office is not a place for’ sissies’!   One has to be strong and resourceful.

The moment the children had gone into their classrooms sanity prevailed.    Peacefulness transcended the school and we could get down to our duties.

My first thought was to make a ‘well deserved’ cup of coffee.   I often had to stop for a ‘well deserved cup of coffee’!   As I waited for the kettle to boil I glanced out of the window into what used to be Loop Street in Pietermaritzburg and now called Jabu Ndlovu Street.   It never failed to amaze me, all the coming and the going and the toing and froing of the people as they made their way to Imbali and Edendale, the biggest suburbs of Pietermaritzburg or Msunduzi as it is now called.   There was a never ending stream of taxis and buses, hooting and shouting for fares.   There was a constant supply of delivery trucks and every now and again we heard the sirens of traffic police and ambulances as they made their way to some dastardly accident (and there were many of those).

That window had witnessed many of the changes that have taken place in our City and in our country.   It saw the first non-racial intake of pupils when it opened its doors in 1990.   It witnessed the angry mobs that walked into town on the day after Chris Hani was murdered and was a recipient of the many rocks and stones thrown at it in anger and defiance on their return to Edendale.

It was witness to the crocodile of children who walked to the City Hall before the momentous voting day to celebrate a Peace Concert in 1994 with many other school children in the area.

It also saw the faces of the excited children as they came back from lining the streets when President Mandela was given the Freedom of our City in 1997 and the choir children who had sung the National Anthem at the historic Kwanula Inauguration where Tata, King Zwelitini and Chief Buthelezi shared a stage and where President Mandela sang and danced with the Choir children while wearing one of their school caps.

What memories!

I looked out at the beautiful trees lining the pavement and the many cars belonging to the staff of the school parked under the trees.   I looked across the road to check if my car was still there nestling in the shade of a huge tree,   I am still not sure what kind of trees they are but they provided wonderful shade for our cars in the heat of the summer.    If there was an almighty storm, which Kwa Zulu-Natal is noted for, then they could be a potential danger as many trees, like the magnificent Jacarandas around the school, could lose their branches and then damage the cars. 

All these thoughts were going around in my brain while I waited for that kettle to boil - when all hell broke loose!

As I watched, a car came hurtling through the intersection.   Straight through a red robot!   It miraculously missed cars in the intersection and it started spinning. It collided with all the cars on my side of the pavement causing untold damage to each one.   Then it spun into the middle of the road heading directly towards my car sitting so safely in the shade of the tree.

‘Oh no’ I groaned.   My heart was racing.   Just a minute ago there was peace and quiet but that had been shattered and mayhem was in its wake!

I held my breath while I watched the car spin and spin crabbing its way towards my car.   Then miracle of all miracles it stopped right opposite my passenger door!

I started breathing again.   Then the enormity of the situation hit me as people came running from every direction.   Black people, White people, Indian people, Coloured people, children and adults they were all there.   Someone opened the driver’s door of the errant car and out climbed an elderly lady with grey hair and very old fashioned dowdy clothes.   She was as white as a sheet but did not seem to be hurt in anyway.

Then they opened the back door of the car and I could see a pair of legs.  Grey flannelled legs.   A man was lying on the back seat.

He must be badly hurt I thought.   Then we went into action.

An ambulance was called and the traffic police were phoned.

Teachers and staff filtered out of their classrooms and offices to check out the damage to their cars.   All the cars on the school side of Jabu Ndlovu Street were badly damaged.   As I said mayhem ensued.

I could not leave the office as I was on switchboard duty but I got a running commentary from all the staff as they came back in to phone their respective spouses, insurance agents etc.   Nobody had cellphones in those days!

Speculation as to what happened was rife. 

How did she manage not to hit anyone in the intersection?

Why did the car go through the red robot?

Where did she come from?

What happened to the man on the back seat?

By this stage Jabu Ndlovu Street had been blocked off and a huge crowd had gathered to view the accident.   There was major congestion at the robot as the traffic had to be redirected into West Street and then into Burger Street.   There was much hooting and yelling going on.

I could just see the little old lady’s head through the crowd nodding as she answered questions by the traffic police while they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

I thought she was a very lucky lady to be alive.   Little did I know!

Eventually the ambulance arrived and they got the gentleman off the back seat and into the ambulance with little effort and away they went with the little old lady in tow.   The car was moved to the side of the road and within an hour everything was cleared and sorted.

One of our staff who had been outside helping all the time eventually made his way in and we crowded around him to find out what exactly had happened.

Apparently a nun from the convent down the road from the school had very kindly offered to take a sick priest to hospital.   They managed to get the priest into the car and off she went.   As she entered into Jabu Ndlovu Street she tried to put her foot on the brake but instead she pressed the accelerator very hard. 

 She took off like a rocket!
 

 The nun drove straight into the road hitting a truck carrying bricks.   She ricocheted off the truck and still with her foot firmly planted on the accelerator she sped off through the red robot in West Street.   By this time she had found the brake and hitting it hard set the car spinning in every direction.   She slammed into all the cars parked on the side of the road and then spun off into the middle of the road where she came to a halt.   It was a complete miracle that nobody was severely injured.

We never heard the outcome of the episode, how the priest fared or who paid for the car to be towed away and repaired.    All I know is that it cost a lot of our staff a good portion of their salaries to have their cars fixed and it cost the school money as they then had to provide staff parking at the back of the building.   This meant many months of construction at a huge expense.

Often afterwards I would think of that nun and the poor sick priest.   I could picture the face of the priest lying on the back seat of the car.   Terror, bewilderment, puzzlement, acceptance of certain death and almost certainly praying fervently!

A miracle had surely ensued.   No one had been badly injured.

I wondered if he ever drove with a nun again.

Or maybe that is just nun sense!

THE END