When the ear, rather than the eye, bears witness

We have all been listening carefully, but are we hearing the same thing?

Does a cricket bat sound like a bullet? Can a man scream like a woman? Sound is pivotal to the outcome of the Oscar Pistorius murder trial. Everything depends on what people heard - or thought they heard.

Sound has always been our first line of defence. We hear sounds and our mind turns them into pictures. On the savannah, the sound of rustling grass or alarmed birds would become, in the mind of early man, the sound of a predator. Being able to hear can save our lives.

In a world where voices on the telephone have been replaced by text on a screen, we have become less reliant on sound. Radio plays, theatre of the mind, are a thing of the past. We like to see things, and often we do not even notice what we are hearing. No longer threatened by sabre-toothed cats in the wild, we block out ambient sound and plug our ears with music.

In this trial, sound is everything. The witnesses who heard screams and bangs in the early hours of the morning were vulnerable, woken from sleep. Those who heard unexpected sounds on February 14 last year reacted with distress and fear. They could not see who or what was making the sounds. They could only imagine.

Sounds are not only magnified at night, they are filtered through experience, memory and perception. To accurately recall exactly what you heard a year ago is difficult. To recall what you did or did not hear while concentrating on something else is even more difficult.

Watching the trial on television, I was annoyed by the sound of my neighbour's angle grinder. When I went to type on my computer, I ceased to be aware of the sound. Did metal continue to be ground while my focus was elsewhere? I could not tell.

Sound is crucial to observers of these court proceedings in other ways. In line with Judge President Dunstan Mlambo's ruling, witnesses may request that their faces not be shown on TV. Those not sitting in court are left, figuratively speaking, in the dark. Many viewers have found this disturbing. It is strange for the sighted to rely solely on sound for information.

In the absence of an image, everything we are to surmise about those testifying must be ascertained from how they sound. We might all hear the same voice, but each will draw a different picture in our minds.

Based on her voice, some might imagine tenacious witness Michelle Burger to be a studious, bespectacled woman with hair drawn into a bun and the long fingers of a pianist. She may look nothing like this. Her husband, Charl Johnson, was painted by his voice as an innocuous bloke with thinning hair and a self-effacing demeanour. He might be a giant with a mullet. Would knowing this change the perception of his trustworthiness?

Neighbour Estelle van der Merwe said she heard a voice that "irritated" her. Was the same true of her own breathy, terrified squeak, and is this why she was so swiftly dismissed by both prosecution and defence?

Radiologist Johan Stipp had the voice of a doctor - deep, articulate, reassuring and confident. He sounded as if he were used to being in charge. His voice seemed to tighten uncomfortably when he was challenged or contradicted, but perhaps he was just thirsty.

When Samantha Taylor, Pistorius's former girlfriend, took the stand, court officials showed remarkable restraint in not wincing at the upwards inflection with which she ended every statement. Perhaps it was worse for TV watchers and radio listeners, who could only hear her.

"Uuuuum? He carried a gun with heeeeem? It means he was awaaaaaaare? But I don't think he was scaaaaaared?"

This affliction, shared by many Australians and some Californians, made Taylor sound uncertain of everything she said, which is perhaps why she did not spend long on the stand.

Prior to the trial, the media published photographs of her, so we know she is not the 12-year-old she sounds like. We also know she is attractive, which is fortunate for her. Given a strong enough visual stimulus, the eye has the ability to override the ear's pain.

When sight is restored, we stop imagining. Boxer Kevin Lerena, who previously told his story to British tabloid The Sun ("Oscar shot me too!"), had no problem appearing on TV. Had we only heard his voice, his wide-boy vowels might have caused some to imagine him to be a pony-tailed teenager with flip-flops and spots on his chin. The real Lerena looked older and had a respectable brush cut.

Relying on the ear to fill visual gaps makes us more aware of nuances in voices, even when we can see the speakers. State attorney Gerrie Nel sounds like a fatherly teacher who might tell you, in confidence, how to avoid a beating from the headmaster. Advocate for the defence Barry Roux, who is fond of the phrase "I put it to you", looks like a benign, silver-haired uncle, but his voice, when his patience is strained, can make him sound almost sinister.

I was drawn back to the TV this week by the sound of legendary US attorney Robert Shapiro being interviewed by Subniv Babuta on Carte Blanche's channel 199. Shapiro speaks with the low, slow, growling authority of a lion that knows exactly where its next meal is coming from. He sounds like Orson Welles. Were I on trial, I would want to be represented by this man's voice, in a darkened courtroom where only sound mattered.

We have yet to hear how Pistorius will sound on the stand. In all the material arranged to fill space around the court proceedings, we hear his recorded voice frequently, and that of Reeva Steenkamp. Another moving voice was heard this week. Channel 199 obtained an old radio interview with Sheila Pistorius, mother of Oscar, and played it on Thursday, the 12th anniversary of her death.

If justice is blind, then hearing matters even more. Judge Thokozile Masipa and her assessors have a tough job sifting through what was heard and deciding what it meant. In the informal world outside the court, everyone has a judgment to deliver - a judgment that, in this case, relies so much more on the ear than on the eye.

degroots@sundaytimes.co.za