[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
going to sell up?
Yes, Ma told me. The drought s really bad.
It s not just the drought. We re getting on, you know, and we
thought we d like to move closer to the children. Both Cathy and
Doug are living in the Cape now.
I should never have allowed Cathy to get away from me, I
joked, winking. Until two years before I d often seen her during
holidays, playing tennis on their farm or having sundowners;
pleasant husband she had, outdoor-type surveyor; and once, on a
New Year s Eve, when we d all had rather too much to drink, she and
I disappeared among the shrubs to consummate, for auld lang syne,
the remembered passion of our childhood.
Doug doesn t want to take over the farm? I asked.
A hopeless question, I knew. As Ma had put it once: Poor Doug.
The Lord gave him only one talent and that was to play rugby. Now
he s gone and hurt his back, so all he s got left to do is drink. At one
stage he d almost reached the Springbok team. Now his old man
regularly had to bail him out of jail.
It s just not pleasant any more, Martin, confided Mrs. Lawrence.
I used to enjoy working in the store, you know. We always got along
very well with the Kaffirs. I mean, they were noisy and all that, but
they knew their place. Nowadays they re so cheeky, one doesn t know
what to do any more. I ve got to keep a gun in the shop, just in case.
One never knows. She pulled open a drawer to show me the pistol.
Oh, it s a real problem. They re getting too white, is what I say.
Well, time to go, Mrs. Lawrence. Goodbye, then. Give Cathy
my love when you write again. Adding, for the sake of propriety:
And to Doug as well.
271
A NDRÉ B RI NK
I drove back with my eyes narrowed in concentration as the little
van bucked and danced on the corrugated road, kicking up a cloud
of dust behind it. Soon I was back at the top gate. The piccanins
came running on from the distance, but stopped when they
recognized me, obviously reluctant because I hadn t given them
money the first time. I hooted loudly. They seemed to confer among
themselves until I opened the door. That got them moving all right.
Mrs. Lawrence had been right, I thought as I drove through.
They were becoming cheeky, even at their age. This time I chucked
a handful of cents at them, grinning to see them fighting and rolling
in the dust for the money. It wasn t to confuse or spoil them that I d
done it, but to reward them for the little service they d performed
without begging like the previous time.
Straining my eyes, I could see the deep red gashes of erosion
ditches running down the side of the road. If this drought lasted for
much longer, Ma would have no choice but to pack up and leave.
Not only Ma, but everybody else in the district. It seemed as if the
drought was bent on getting rid of us. Beyond buying and selling,
beyond economics and politics, beyond White and Black, lay the
land itself, and in times like these one discovered it was only by its
leave and by its grace that we were tolerated there.
It was unnerving to realize how easily we could be dispensed
with. When I d left Aunt Rienie s home after completing my stud-
ies in Stellenbosch it had taken me an afternoon to clean the room
and pack up and dispose of the accumulated waste. Afterwards, a
stranger might have walked in without an inkling of the man who d
lived there before him, so completely had I eradicated all signs of
my existence. And in London it had happened again, when Elise and
I had left our basement flat in Islington to come back home. Two
years of our lives had gone into that miserable little place: yet, after
a single day s packing and cleaning there hadn t been anything left
272
R UMORS OF R AI N
of us at all. How much worse it would be, one day, when the earth
itself began to clear us away. One never knew when it would hap-
pen. The worst of all was that it might have been predestined in the
very core of the earth since millions of years before one s own birth.
Like a shooting star that became visible aeons after it had already
burnt out.
There had been the disaster at the mine near Carletonville, two
years before: a rockfall caused by the pressure of earth on a
geological fault, a displacement of less than one micron, creating
shock waves which caused the whole mine to collapse. An event
prepared a million years ago: a disaster predestined without our
slightest knowledge (Calvin would have relished the thought). By
the time we became aware of it, the earth was shaking and the
tunnels and shafts were caving in. More than two hundred men
buried, four of them Whites. I shall never forget the scene. The
crowd gathered in the cloud of red dust, the four White women
praying on their knees, the hundreds of Blacks to one side first in
deadly silence, then erupting in ululations of grief, lasting all night.
The floodlights, the bulldozers and cranes, the Women s Auxiliary
serving coffee. Even the Salvation Army turned up for prayer
meetings, separate services for Blacks and Whites. The brave little
choir singing in the wind, the bulging red cheeks of the old men
blowing their trumpets. And the journalists. Pages and pages of
interviews with the four White women. In the end the operation
had to be called off, after some thirty bodies had been found, all of
them Black. The others remained under tons of rock and rubble. It
was useless to continue the search, and extremely dangerous as well.
I had to write off the mine. A loss of several hundred thousand.
Driving back to the farm, I thought: When will it happen again,
to us? When will the continent decide to throw us off, like an old
dog shaking himself to rid him of fleas?
I was getting morbid. It was time Ma made up her mind. The
273
A NDRÉ B RI NK
farm was no good to us any more.
How long would it take to clear out everything that belonged to
us? Perhaps a week, at the most. Only the graves would stay, of course.
In the backyard the old diviner was preparing to go and Philemon
was just putting his small black trunk on the back of their van when
I stopped. Unfortunately I was still in time to shake the limp, damp
paw of Mr. Scholtz.
Found any water? I asked perfunctorily.
Yes, he said in his mournful way, as if he were blaming me for
it. Yes. Just as I thought. Running down from the ridge up there
and passing right under the house. For a brief moment there was a
flickering of malevolent glee in his lifeless eyes: But it s very deep,
he said. And solid rock. Almost impossible to reach.
274
8
UNCH STARTED PEACEFULLY ENOUGH, even with a hint of good
humor. But there was a more ominous undercurrent. There
Lwe were, halfway through Saturday, and Ma hadn t budged
yet. I would have to start turning on the pressure before long. There
was too much involved not to feel tense. But I had to wait for the
right moment, or all would be lost.
I was annoyed to see Louis sitting down with unwashed oil-covered
hands, but feeling Ma s eyes on me in silent warning I decided not to
make a remark, although I felt sure he d done it deliberately. My silence
probably unnerved him; also, he may have felt some guilt about the
morning s scene, or otherwise his involvement with machinery had [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl rafalstec.xlx.pl
going to sell up?
Yes, Ma told me. The drought s really bad.
It s not just the drought. We re getting on, you know, and we
thought we d like to move closer to the children. Both Cathy and
Doug are living in the Cape now.
I should never have allowed Cathy to get away from me, I
joked, winking. Until two years before I d often seen her during
holidays, playing tennis on their farm or having sundowners;
pleasant husband she had, outdoor-type surveyor; and once, on a
New Year s Eve, when we d all had rather too much to drink, she and
I disappeared among the shrubs to consummate, for auld lang syne,
the remembered passion of our childhood.
Doug doesn t want to take over the farm? I asked.
A hopeless question, I knew. As Ma had put it once: Poor Doug.
The Lord gave him only one talent and that was to play rugby. Now
he s gone and hurt his back, so all he s got left to do is drink. At one
stage he d almost reached the Springbok team. Now his old man
regularly had to bail him out of jail.
It s just not pleasant any more, Martin, confided Mrs. Lawrence.
I used to enjoy working in the store, you know. We always got along
very well with the Kaffirs. I mean, they were noisy and all that, but
they knew their place. Nowadays they re so cheeky, one doesn t know
what to do any more. I ve got to keep a gun in the shop, just in case.
One never knows. She pulled open a drawer to show me the pistol.
Oh, it s a real problem. They re getting too white, is what I say.
Well, time to go, Mrs. Lawrence. Goodbye, then. Give Cathy
my love when you write again. Adding, for the sake of propriety:
And to Doug as well.
271
A NDRÉ B RI NK
I drove back with my eyes narrowed in concentration as the little
van bucked and danced on the corrugated road, kicking up a cloud
of dust behind it. Soon I was back at the top gate. The piccanins
came running on from the distance, but stopped when they
recognized me, obviously reluctant because I hadn t given them
money the first time. I hooted loudly. They seemed to confer among
themselves until I opened the door. That got them moving all right.
Mrs. Lawrence had been right, I thought as I drove through.
They were becoming cheeky, even at their age. This time I chucked
a handful of cents at them, grinning to see them fighting and rolling
in the dust for the money. It wasn t to confuse or spoil them that I d
done it, but to reward them for the little service they d performed
without begging like the previous time.
Straining my eyes, I could see the deep red gashes of erosion
ditches running down the side of the road. If this drought lasted for
much longer, Ma would have no choice but to pack up and leave.
Not only Ma, but everybody else in the district. It seemed as if the
drought was bent on getting rid of us. Beyond buying and selling,
beyond economics and politics, beyond White and Black, lay the
land itself, and in times like these one discovered it was only by its
leave and by its grace that we were tolerated there.
It was unnerving to realize how easily we could be dispensed
with. When I d left Aunt Rienie s home after completing my stud-
ies in Stellenbosch it had taken me an afternoon to clean the room
and pack up and dispose of the accumulated waste. Afterwards, a
stranger might have walked in without an inkling of the man who d
lived there before him, so completely had I eradicated all signs of
my existence. And in London it had happened again, when Elise and
I had left our basement flat in Islington to come back home. Two
years of our lives had gone into that miserable little place: yet, after
a single day s packing and cleaning there hadn t been anything left
272
R UMORS OF R AI N
of us at all. How much worse it would be, one day, when the earth
itself began to clear us away. One never knew when it would hap-
pen. The worst of all was that it might have been predestined in the
very core of the earth since millions of years before one s own birth.
Like a shooting star that became visible aeons after it had already
burnt out.
There had been the disaster at the mine near Carletonville, two
years before: a rockfall caused by the pressure of earth on a
geological fault, a displacement of less than one micron, creating
shock waves which caused the whole mine to collapse. An event
prepared a million years ago: a disaster predestined without our
slightest knowledge (Calvin would have relished the thought). By
the time we became aware of it, the earth was shaking and the
tunnels and shafts were caving in. More than two hundred men
buried, four of them Whites. I shall never forget the scene. The
crowd gathered in the cloud of red dust, the four White women
praying on their knees, the hundreds of Blacks to one side first in
deadly silence, then erupting in ululations of grief, lasting all night.
The floodlights, the bulldozers and cranes, the Women s Auxiliary
serving coffee. Even the Salvation Army turned up for prayer
meetings, separate services for Blacks and Whites. The brave little
choir singing in the wind, the bulging red cheeks of the old men
blowing their trumpets. And the journalists. Pages and pages of
interviews with the four White women. In the end the operation
had to be called off, after some thirty bodies had been found, all of
them Black. The others remained under tons of rock and rubble. It
was useless to continue the search, and extremely dangerous as well.
I had to write off the mine. A loss of several hundred thousand.
Driving back to the farm, I thought: When will it happen again,
to us? When will the continent decide to throw us off, like an old
dog shaking himself to rid him of fleas?
I was getting morbid. It was time Ma made up her mind. The
273
A NDRÉ B RI NK
farm was no good to us any more.
How long would it take to clear out everything that belonged to
us? Perhaps a week, at the most. Only the graves would stay, of course.
In the backyard the old diviner was preparing to go and Philemon
was just putting his small black trunk on the back of their van when
I stopped. Unfortunately I was still in time to shake the limp, damp
paw of Mr. Scholtz.
Found any water? I asked perfunctorily.
Yes, he said in his mournful way, as if he were blaming me for
it. Yes. Just as I thought. Running down from the ridge up there
and passing right under the house. For a brief moment there was a
flickering of malevolent glee in his lifeless eyes: But it s very deep,
he said. And solid rock. Almost impossible to reach.
274
8
UNCH STARTED PEACEFULLY ENOUGH, even with a hint of good
humor. But there was a more ominous undercurrent. There
Lwe were, halfway through Saturday, and Ma hadn t budged
yet. I would have to start turning on the pressure before long. There
was too much involved not to feel tense. But I had to wait for the
right moment, or all would be lost.
I was annoyed to see Louis sitting down with unwashed oil-covered
hands, but feeling Ma s eyes on me in silent warning I decided not to
make a remark, although I felt sure he d done it deliberately. My silence
probably unnerved him; also, he may have felt some guilt about the
morning s scene, or otherwise his involvement with machinery had [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]