*
“What a shit thing to happen during the holidays,” Hummel groaned at the breakfast table.
“My boy, that is what happens to people who don’t brush their teeth,” Ma Saida said.
“Ja,” Debbie agreed, “you’ll have your mouth full of stinky black stumps before you turn 21.”
“And you’ll never find a wife,” Alicia said. “Who wants to kiss a guy with a breath like an old dog?”
“And who wants to kiss a fat cow with pimples all over her face?” Hummel retaliated.
Alicia threw her spoon into her pap making the cream splash all over the table and ran off with a howl.
Pa Saida closed his Farmers’ Weekly. “Stop this nonsense everybody. Hummel, you go and apologize to Alicia. Maybe that will teach you some manners.”
“But Pa, she does look like…”
“Hurry up, or I’ll get the wooden spoon out,” Ma Saida threatened.
“Okay okay, but it’s not fair.” Hummel got up.
“And then get ready for the dentist,” Ma Saida shouted after him.
“I also want to go to Swawelpoort,” Debbie said. “I haven’t been there for ages.”
“You drive all the way to Swawelpoort to go to the dentist?” I was amazed. “Isn’t that quite far?”
“Not really,” Pa Saida said. “Only about 60 ks.”
Heidewitzka!
“And in any case, it’s where our nearest dentist is.” Pa Saida grinned. “This is different to Europe, hey? In my younger days I used to drive up to Jo’burg to go ice skating. That is about 200 ks – one way.” He grabbed his hat. “All right. I must just get Petrus and the boys started to fix up the road to the lower sheep camp, and then we can go.”
Debbie, Hein and Ryno disappeared to their rooms to empty piggy banks and get their pocket money to hit Swawelpoort, which didn’t only have a dentist and a permanent vet but also Woolworths and a movie house.
Sarie slapped some more lemon curd on her toast. “I’m staying here. My friends from the Zeekuievlei Farm are coming over.”
“I’m not going either,” I said. “We came through Swawelpoort on our way here. It didn’t really look like an exciting metropolis to me. It actually looked a bit sad. Come to think of it, a lot of little towns I’ve seen in the Freestate don’t exactly look joyful. There is junk lying in the gardens and the houses look neglected and even in the middle of the day the curtains are drawn. I dunno…there is nohing just for fun or because it’s pretty. Like as if for the people living there life’s a total drag.”
“Hear that Ma?” Sarie said with a full mouth. “I’ve always known that there is more to life than the dorps in the Freestate, that’s why I want to go to Cape Town or London or Paris.”
“You’ve got the farm,” I said. “That’s different. A farm is heaven on earth.”
“You hear that?” Ma Saida said to her daughter. “Be grateful for what you’ve got.” She put her serviette on the table. “I’m going to make jam and chutney today. Lenaaa…”
The maid shuffled in. “Missis?”
“Lena, tell Sannie to bring the peaches in and Lorah to clean the big copper basin.” Ma Saida got up energetically. “And tell Hezekiel to wash the Land Rover and Poppie must quickly clean it inside, the Baas wants to go to town.”
“Mathildaaa, want to come and take the boys to the lower sheep camp?” Sarie yelled through the house.
“Jaaa, when?”
“Right now.”
Ma Saida stuck her head out of the kitchen. “Girls, you better take Alicia along.”
“But she’s in her room sulking, Ma. She says she’s fasting and she won’t come out of there until she’s as thin as Twiggy.”
“Oh, in that case leave her alone. We’ll probably see her for lunch…or supper.”
I met Sarie at the shed. 4 blacks were loading tools into the bakkie. Trigger, the puppy, jumped onto the front bench with Sarie and me. The blacks climbed onto the back. Sarie reversed out onto the road like a rocket, changed gear and kept on at great speed, slowing down only at the gates to wait for one of the blacks to open and close them. The farm roads didn’t exactly have the impeccable surface of the Nürburgring, and it crossed my mind that Pa Saida’s frequent maintenance work on the bakkie might have something to do with my host sister’s driving style.
“See that?” Sarie suddenly slammed the brakes on. The 2 guys who had been standing on the back holding to the cabin roof, crashed into the tools.
“Gee Sarie, can’t you drive a bit more carefully?”
“It’s their own fault. I’ve told them to sit on their bums while we are travelling. If they don’t want to listen…” She shrugged her shoulders. “And just look at them. They think it’s a colossal joke.”
She was right. Everybody in the back was having a big laugh.
“Look there,” Sarie pointed to a tall black and white bird with an orange face.
“What is it? Looks a bit like a stork with a short beak.”
“It’s a secretary bird.” Sarie turned round and slid the back window of the cabin open. “Shush man,” she hissed to the guys in the back. “Tulla.”
The bird held one wing open that it nearly touched the ground and walked around a thing that looked like a thick branch.
“Wow, he’s got a cobra there,’ Sarie said. That’s why he’s opened his wing. It’s like a shield, the snake can’t do anything to him”
The bird kept on circling the snake. The cobra spread its hood, and, with its errected body, followed the bird’s movement. All of a sudden the snake toppled over. The bird lashed out a foot and, with a mighty talon, grabbed the snake just behind the head. The cobra whipped around and the bird nailed it to the ground with his other talon.
“Wow, I’ve never seen that before,” Sarie whispered.
The bird tore his prey in 2 pieces and then looked around as if waiting for applause.
“He’s splendid,” I murmured.
The bird picked up one half of the snake and swallowed it one shot. Just when he picked up the other half, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a movement. 2 of the blacks had jumped off the back of the bakkie; they ran towards the bird throwing rocks at him.
“Bloody savages,” Sarie yelled. She hit the hooter that it nearly broke. The bird ran a couple of paces, spread his mighty wings and flew away.
Sarie shot out of the car white with rage. She shouted at the 2 guys fit to burst a poepstring.
Careful Sarie. These 2 are twice as big as you are. They’ll beat you up.
One of the men said something with indignation. Sarie only shouted louder. I was getting nervous.
She’s crazy. The blacks will stick together. 4 grown men against 2 girls. We don’t have a chance.
I looked around for a weapon but the tools and everything one could have used were in the back – with the guys. I wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts. We had the dog but he was still a puppy. They could kill him with one blow to the head or strangle him with their bare hands. We could lock ourselves in the car but they would smash the windows and anyway, Sarie was still outside shouting her head off.
The bigger one of the blacks raised his arm. He still held a rock in his hand.
That’s it. He’ll smash her face.
The black threw the rock in the veld and said: “Sorry Miss.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes – or my ears.
Sarie yelled: “Now get on the bakkie and hurry up.”
The 2 men turned round and followed her orders like dogs with their tails between their legs.
Sarie climbed back behind the steering wheel. “These blooming barbarians. They’d kill anything that moves and eat it.”
“Maybe for poor people it’s the only way to get some food on the table. If you haven’t got much to eat…”
“Rubbish,” Sarie interrupted me. “Do any of them look starved to you?”
I had to admit they didn’t.
“They get enough food as part of their pay,” S
arie carried on, “but I’m telling you, these blacks are something else. When they see an animal they say: there walks nyama – meat, and the animal has had it.”
“And what about white hunters who shoot stacks of animals for trophies?” I said. “They just take the tusks or a horn and let the rest rot in the sun. That’s also barbaric.”
Sarie cast her eyes towards heaven and started the engine.
“I thought these 4 guys would beat you up and me as well, the way you were yelling at them.”
“They’d never do that,” Sarie grinned. “Sometimes it’s just necessary to show them who’s the boss.”