Afrika, page 9
“Our arrival at Melkweg has put everyone on edge,” she continued in her letter to Themba. She thought about the best way to describe the situation. She had not been very truthful with Themba about Riana's fragile nerves and nightmares, nor had she told him that her mother was seeing a therapist. She hoped that a week away from the pressures of the Truth Commission might help her mother. However, the atmosphere at Milky Way Farm was as tense as anything Riana had faced in Cape Town. Even Oom Piet was ill at ease. Immediately after lunch, he cornered Kim in the pantry where she was looking at the rows of preserved food, some as bizarre as the pickled pig's feet in the science room back home. Piet was wearing an open-necked khaki shirt and he waved his cigarette at her. “Do you think she's going to be okay?” he demanded.
“Who?” Kim asked, watching a long line of ants swim across a saucer full of water to get to the sugar bowl.
“Your ma.” Oom Piet exhaled a cloud of smoke. His face was more tanned than Kim remembered and his neck was sunburnt. “Covering this commission – it's not a job for a lady, nê?” He stubbed out his cigarette on the bottom of his boot.
Not if a lady is someone like your wife, Kim thought. Her Aunt Reza was like a character right out of a Halloween thriller. Clad in a black dress, black stockings and shoes, and prone to monster headaches, Tante Reza either locked herself up in the attic all day, or sat silently on the porch drinking tea, waving the flies off her face with an ostrich feather.
Better to write to Themba about the outdoor dogs – half a dozen of them – with their hot breath and dancing tails, and the elegant horses, Willem and Tara, who neighed and pranced in the fields around the house. Kim especially loved the guinea fowl that ran wild on the farm. They had miniature white polka dots and the funniest looking crimson-red headpieces above their bright blue necks. Cute, but would Themba care?
Kim put down her pen and glanced across the room at Marjike's empty bed. Before they had gone to sleep, Marjike had produced about six different kinds of pimple cream. “Pimple cream for Africa,” she joked as she smeared the most fluorescent brand across her chin. “Ma would have a fit. Ma thinks pimples is, I mean are, a result of standing too long in front of the mirror.”
Kim rolled her head back on the stiff pillow. What a bizarre place – a farm named after the Milky Way – her mother's girlhood home. But it was beautiful too. The Cape winter had been cold and rainy but green. By contrast, the landscape around the farm was dry and dusty – more African – and beautiful in a way that she couldn't begin to put down on paper.
Kim turned back to her letter. She knew that what Themba would really want to hear were clues about her father. And she had none. In addition, she was beginning to realize that it would not be easy to get her relatives to open up.
A minute later, Marjike was standing over Kim with a tray of hot coffee and a bowl full of rusks. “Koffie en beskuit,” Marjike announced. “Japie says I must practice being more ladylike,” she said, as she poured out the milky coffee.
Kim had never been served food in bed before. A round lacy cloth with tiny pink shells dangling from the edge, covered the sugar bowl. “These are called babies' toes,” Marjike said, as she fingered the fat little shells.
Then her cousin looked at the envelop beside Kim's bed.“Who are you writing to?” she asked.“A boy or a girl?”
Kim found the coffee too hot and bitter to drink. “A guy, you know, in my class,” she explained, carefully setting the cup back on the tray. “When I finish will you help me mail this?”
Marjike's eyes widened as she checked Themba's last name on the envelope.“We will send the letter to town with our garden boy. But don't tell Japie that you have an African friend.” Marjike chewed on her fingers and added, “You're lucky you don't have a brother. Last month I bought myself a Foschini backless halter. Japie cut it up with scissors for a rabbit bed…. Something wrong, Kim?”
“No,” Kim said through clenched teeth. She wasn't about to tell her cousin what she could do with her brother.
Just before breakfast, Kim ran into her mother out on the porch. Except for the hyperactive outdoor dogs that guarded the house, Kim and her mother were alone.
“We should have brought Themba with us,” said Kim. “So he could see his grandmother.”
“Oupa would not have allowed it,” Riana said in a dull voice. She looked as if she hadn't slept.
“In thirteen years, haven't they changed at all?” Kim asked.
“I don't know,” muttered Riana.
At that moment Elsie's daughter, wearing a blue uniform and a blue headscarf around her head, announced that breakfast was served. The family congregated around the enormous yellowwood table in the kitchen. All through the meal, Kim kept her eye on her cousin Japie. He loved to jab his rusk into his black coffee and then scatter the gooey crumbs across the table before plunging the rusk into his mouth. While Tante Reza passed eggs and sausage she ignored her piggy son, yet watched Kim's manners and the placement of her elbows with a sharp eye. “Does Oupa want some more milk?” she asked in a baby voice as Elsie's daughter arrived with a pitcher of boiled milk. With a sinking heart, Kim realized that getting information out of these people would be like communicating with rocks.
Suddenly, as they finished up breakfast, a vehicle charged up the farm road at a terrific speed. Uncle Piet jumped to his feet and went to the back door to quiet the dogs. Japie left the room and returned with a rifle. Tante Reza glanced nervously from the door to Riana and spoke. “When a car turns up at the gate, we don't know if it's vriend of vyand. Friend or enemy.”
Oupa dropped his fork and tried to stand.
“Oupa, sit,” Piet said, as Japie put down the rifle. “It's just Old Koos. He's in a new vehicle.”
The neighbor was in a hurry and would not stay. Marjike translated it all for Kim. “Someone is stealing his cattle. When he finds out who it is, he will set the dogs on them,” Marjike added as she poured out more coffee. “If that doesn't work he'll shoot them.”
“Must I bring Pa's other rifle?” asked Japie.
“Bring it!” Uncle Piet told him.
Kim glanced across at her mom with concern.
“It's just routine,” explained her uncle. “We need to patrol the land.”
“I'm going to show Kim the horses,” announced Marjike, as she got up from the table. “Fix your hair first,” Tante Reza said looking at both her daughter and Kim before she left the kitchen and headed for the wooden staircase on the outside of the farmhouse.
Kim watched her aunt slowly climb the stairs that led up to the attic. What would it be like to be the daughter of a crazy mother? Kim might be in that position herself, if Riana wasn't back on a plane to Canada in three weeks as planned. Kim pulled back her hair with the thick vegetable elastic she kept in her pocket for when it became too frizzy. Then Oom Piet appeared in the doorway with two rifles.
“This is ridiculous!” cried Riana. “If there's trouble you should phone the police. You don't take matters into your own hands.”
Uncle Piet was feeling for his cigarettes.“Forget calling the police,” he said. He exhaled heavily. “They're in league with the thieves now.”
Kim looked anxiously from her uncle to her mother. Would it be safe for Marjike and her to leave the farmhouse?
Riana got up abruptly from the table.“Nothing's changed,” she snapped.
“My girl, you've got that right,” Oom Piet said, slamming the door as he left.
“What is she saying?” asked Kim. It was very obvious to Kim that Elsie's daughter, Rosie, was talking about her. As soon as Oom Piet had gone off with the neighbor and Marjike had gone to her room to fix her hair, Rosie had padded out with a large tray and begun to clear the table. Suddenly she stopped what she was doing, stared across at Kim, and said something to Riana in Afrikaans.
“Nothing,” said her mother, rubbing her lips together. Riana had announced that she had a story to work on, but instead of bolting away from the table, she sank deeper into her chair.
Rosie clicked her tongue against the side of her cheek, exactly like Lettie might have done, and continued speaking.
“She's talking about me,” insisted Kim to her mother.
Riana leaned forward. She was stroking the table like it was a long lost friend.“Look, Rosie, how you've kept it polished up,” she muttered.
“Mother!” Kim said.
“She says you remind her of her oldest daughter,” Riana explained. “She is your age and she is away at school.”
Kim was about to question how she with her long unruly hair could look anything like the cropped-haired, chocolate-skinned Rosie. But before she could say anything a voice came from the first door off the kitchen. Kim peered inside, heard her name, and took a few steps forward.
When Kim's eyes adjusted to the dim light she saw that the room was filled with rows of books in high glass bookcases. In front of her, sitting on an antique desk, was an old-fashioned Bible, bound in leather. Suddenly she heard the sharp strike of a matchstick and wheeled around. It was Oupa, her grandfather, lighting his pipe with a long match. Behind him, in a glass case, were three large guns.
Kim moved closer to inspect them. “Can you shoot those? I mean do they still work?” she asked.
“We all shoot,” explained Oupa in careful English. His voice was raspy and uneven. “Except your mother. She refused to learn to shoot a gun.” Oupa and Kim listened as Riana and Rosie laughed together in the kitchen. Then he pointed to an oval frame on the wall. “Riana takes after her great-ouma, her great-grandmother, as you say.”
Oupa sucked on his pipe as Kim looked at the portrait. The woman had a high lace collar and the man beside her, a dark Sunday-best suit. The man clenched a long gun in one hand.
“Her husband, Marthinus van der Merwe, fought and survived the Zulu wars up North,” he explained. “They had six sons before Great-Ouma was bitten by a snake. Great-Ouma survived a British concentration camp only to come home and be killed by a snake. Why? Because she did not know how to shoot.”
Kim wanted to know more about snakes – and what to do if she saw one – but she decided to ask something else instead. She needed something to tell Themba, and she was getting impatient. She decided to jump in with her question. “Oupa,” she began boldly.“Did my father know how to shoot?”
Her grandfather's forehead furrowed. “I wouldn't know that,” he responded.
Kim heart was thumping. “Did you ever meet Hendrik?” she asked.
Oupa's pipe had gone out and he knocked the ash from it before responding. “I met him once,” he said. “He had come up here to the farm from Cape Town to see your ma. He came up in secret, and Lettie hid him in her room in the compound.”
“Lettie?” Kim asked, trying to keep her voice steady. She wasn't sure she had heard her grandfather correctly. “The woman who works for us in Cape Town?”
“Ja,” Oupa said. He fumbled for a pipe cleaner and said in an earnest voice:“You must pass my words onto her. You must tell Lettie I am very sorry for the fire and for all that happened during that time.”
What fire? thought Kim. She also wondered what Hendrik was hiding from. But before she could ask Oupa these questions, he pointed the end of his pipe cleaner at a photo in a plastic frame. “Do you not recognize your Oom Piet?” he asked. Kim looked closer. There was a photo of a blond youth in an army uniform with a bunch of soldiers on top of an armored tank.
“I think that was taken in Transvaal,” he said twisting the pipe cleaner inside his pipe.
There was a wedding photo of Oom Piet and Tante Reza and then three photos of babies. Kim stopped in her tracks. Who was the third child?
Oupa moved her along, obviously not wanting her to ask about the baby photos. He listened to make sure Riana was still occupied with Rosie and then asked: “How is your ma's life over there in Canada?”
Kim hesitated. It was hard to change gears so quickly and think about home.
“Your mom has her courage,” Oupa said, refilling his pipe. “But it is a life of loneliness, nê? No nation. No roots. No tribe.”
What an odd way to sum up Riana's life. Riana's life in Canada was pretty good, and as far as Kim was concerned, she was counting the days until they would be back there.
Marjike poked her head into the study and Oupa indicated that Kim should follow her. They said good-bye and made their way to the back porch. Kim surveyed the farm from there, listened for gunshots, and wondered out loud if it was safe to leave the house.
“The wire fence is electric,” explained Marjike. “It protects the house, the barn, and the outbuildings from intruders.”
Kim watched as Elsie and Rosie hauled two large pots of soup for the workers who had come especially to dig a swimming pool.
“Oupa said we could finally have one,” said Marjike excitedly as they watched dozens of blue-overalled men overturn the soil with shovels and picks. “For years and years we fought with Oupa about the pool. He would not allow it.”
“How come?”
“Oupa said we were too young. He did not want any child to have an accident in it.”
Kim remembered the third baby in the photo and wondered when might be a good time to ask Marjike about the child. As they crossed the field to the barn, she saw six of Bliksem's relatives sleeping in a sloppy pile against a brick wall. Kim looked around for her favorite birds. There they were, her guinea fowl, resting under the rhubarb patch. They came out to greet her.
“Pa doesn't want you to ride yet,” said Marjike as she slid open the barn door. “Why not?” asked Kim.
“He wants to make sure there are no accidents,” explained her cousin.
Why is this family so slaphappy with guns, yet so scared of accidents? Kim thought, as she entered the barn. Two horses, standing in box stalls, towered over her. She watched Marjike pick up a large thick sponge and step right into the stall with the largest horse.
“It works like this, see,” said Marjike, pulling the horse's face close to her. “To groom the horses I begin at Willem's ears and brush in the direction of the hairs.” Cautiously, Kim moved closer to Willem. He was a large red horse with fast-blinking eyes and a black mane. “Now you try,” Marjike said, holding Willem tightly.
Shooz! The barn door whirled open just as Kim began brushing Willem. The noise caused the animal to start and almost step on Kim's foot. Great! It was Japie.
Marjike frowned and said,“I thought you were helping Pa.” Japie stood in the doorway with one hand on his hip. In his other hand was a red, ball-shaped fruit – a split-open pomegranate.
“Just ignore him,” instructed Marjike as she turned back to the horse. “Try with Tara. She's gentle.” As Kim approached the fair horse in the next stall, she could feel Japie's eyes burning into her. What was his problem anyway? She got the distinct feeling that Japie hated her guts.
“It's okay,” reassured Marjike. “She can't kick with the front leg.”
Marjike showed her how to run her hand down the back of the leg and grab the foot by holding the front of the hoof. She had a little pick in her hand. “Wiggle the hoof pick in there,” Marjike explained. “Scrape out mud, stones, the works.”
Kim was sweating. If only they could finish grooming the horses and just ride them.
“Watch out,” shouted Japie, spitting the pomegranate pips to the ground. “She's hurting Tara. Look!”
“Mind your own business,” yelled Marjike to her brother. She turned to Kim.“Careful around the spongy area of her hoof.”
Kim did as she was told and then put Tara's foot down.
“Come. Let's walk them around a bit,” suggested Marjike. “You lead Tara and I'll take Willem.”
Japie tossed down the half-eaten piece of pomegranate. “I hope you both get rabies from a meerkat,” he said.
As Kim guided Tara outside, she heard the roar of an engine. She turned to see Japie jump on his dirt bike, point it into the path of her favorite guinea fowl, and speed off behind a row of aloe trees. The lovely birds were sent scrambling for cover behind the barn.
What was his problem? The only thing to do was ignore the creep. As she glanced in the direction where the birds had taken shelter, she noticed a row of old shacks. She hadn't seen these before. Most of the walls had crumbled in and there was only the framework and roofs in place.
“What are those?” Kim asked.
“Only ants live there now,” said Marjike. “The compound burned down about the time your ma left for Canada. Elsie and her family used to live there. Now they live in new rooms up closer to the house.”
Kim remembered how Oupa had asked her to tell Lettie he was sorry about the fire. She wondered again why Hendrik would have been hiding in Lettie's room.“Did Oupa burn down their rooms?” Kim asked.
Marjike shrugged. “Oupa had an accident and a fire began.” Kim waited for something else, but that was all her cousin would reveal. She watched Marjike pull herself easily up onto Willem's back. “I'm going to let Willem run. You can walk Tara around the yard, but do not ride her. Stay close to the house. And don't go near the fence that surrounds the werf.”
“What's a werf?” asked Kim.
“It's the open area around the yard,” Marjike explained. “Careful. Remember the wire fence is turned on.”
Keeping far away from the fence, Kim led Tara on the path beside the farmhouse. Rosie was fetching some firewood at the side of the house. The workers' picks thumped as they dug out the new pool.
Suddenly, Kim heard angry voices coming from the kitchen. Piet and her mother were arguing.
Kim tied Tara up to a tree and drew closer to the kitchen window. She glanced over her shoulder; Marjike couldn't see her. She was riding Willem in the open field beyond the barn and the electric fence. Kim snuck closer. Rosie wouldn't notice; she was occupied with the firewood.
