The store

Mrs. Cartstens owned the farm store. It smelled of stale sweat and was a narrow and rectangular building, rising from the reddish grey of the veld. Pants and gaudy jewelry, needles and sugar, shirts and spoons, guitars and material peered out from the dankness of the high wooden shelves. On Saturday the white farmers came to the store to   pay the colored boys. The colored men came early in the morning with their wives and children to the store. The baas never said when they would come and they didn't want to miss them. Clustered together in the tight cement space between the door and the counter the people yelled and laughed pinched bottoms and tendered brown breasts to withered babies. They meditated on the costs of merchandise fingering the few pennies that remained from last weekend: Three shillings sugar, five shillings of flour; potatoes, coffee and sweets for the children – three pence worth; There still has to be money to pay for wood, no, no, better take  four shillings' worth of flour so there will be for the wood.

       No baas had yet appeared in the doorway and the colored's babbled on. At the grocery end of the store Mrs. Carsten was stacking sugar. Rhythmically her body swayed from the large pile of pound paper bags in the carton on the right to the near empty dark shelf on her left. A yellow pencil peered from behind her ear and graying black hair. She had deep set deep blue eyes. Her stubby, work worn fingers, firmly lifted each packet and put it in its place, as she swayed back and forth back and forth piling sugar. Occasionally she glanced up at the commotion in the store and at the white clerks who were dusting the shelves. Wisps of wind crept through the crevices of the rickety building and sneaked icily around the peoples feet, up their legs, and flapped the torn end of their shirts and dresses.

-"Missus, excuse me missus… missus isn't busy now?"

Mrs. Carstens raised her eyes across the counter at Petrus. He was tall with muscular arms but now he hunched forward and fingered the buckle of his denim overall nervously and stared at the counter.

-"No Petrus," she said, "I'm not busy." She continued stacking the sugar on the shelf.

"What is it?" she asked.

For an instance muddy brown eyes looked at the missus. "Missus, we wanted to ask the missus something…it's that boy –child of mine, Mans – the baby. Well, He's been so sick with sores and all and…" Petrus shifted from one foot to the other, "And can't missus tell us what to do? We brought him to show missus. "

-"Where is he?" She asked.

Petrus turned and shouted through the knot of pushing people about him "Hey Maria, come here."

 Maria who was seated beside the wall next to the other woman, raised herself up, holding a bundle wrapped in cloth. She pushed her way until she reached her husband. She placed the bundle on the counter and unwrapped it, revealing her little black boy. His eyes were wide and listless and bellow his eye was a festering sore which was partly covered by a three penny bit. Near it perched a fly. Mrs. Cartsens leaned forward and gently pushed the fly away. "What's that dirty money doing on the sore?" She asked.

-"Missus, they say it makes the sores go away; but we didn't have  more than a three penny bit to put on it. Maybe if we put a shilling on it, it would have gotten better."

- "Nonsense! Maria,  You take it off at once and wash it with this carefully," Mrs. Carstens produced a bottle of disinfectant and bandages, "and then put this powder on and cover it with these bandages, Don't touch it with anything dirty."

Maria tightened the covers around the baby and held her to her arms, "But missus," she said timidly," last time I had a sore, money helped."  

 -"Your other children have they got sores like these too?"

-"Yes, missus, Pietie and Mins have, but they're older." Maria rocked the baby.

-"Well," Mrs. Carsten gave the powder to Petrus. "You see that she puts the powder on the sores and puts on the bandages also for the other children. And you better buy some meat and bones to make them warm soup."

-"But missus we haven't got any money." Said Petrus.

-"When the bass pays you, you come back to me and I'll see that you get the meat…you want them to get well…perhaps you'll buy less tobacco this week." Mrs. Carstens finished packing the bags of sugar. Her eyes suddenly lit up and she said quickly, almost excitedly, "I've been thinking about these sores. Many of your children have them and it would help you if you could get some warm food every day. We have scraps of meat and bones left over in the butchery every night and we just give them to the dogs. If you mothers could get together and make soup out of these scraps, we could give it to the children at the school. Speak to the other mothers and tell me what they say."

-"Yes missus," Maria said and began to wind her way back to the wall through the pulsating crowd. The babble of laughter, curses, and gossip came suddenly to a halt When Mr. van der Merwe, a tall well trimmed white farmer, stood in the doorway. Mother's hastily pulled their children away from the path of the white baas, and watched as he walked to the counter, whipped out his Parker and flourished off a cheque which Mrs. Carstens changed for him.  Mr. van der Merwe  fingered the grey pound notes, the brown ten shilling notes, and put the coins in his pocket. Then he went to a table on the other side of the store and placed the piles of silver before him, "Bloody lot of money to waste on these bastards." He said as he took a list from his pocket. The coloreds sat on next to both sides of the table. Der  Merwe's steely eyes surveyed the rags and the noise before him and his voice was imperious as he called, "Jan Meintjies."

   Jan shuffled up to the table, short and bony. The wind teased a rent in his shirt sleeve and revealed a muscular arm. He looked stead-fastly at the cement floor so that Mr. van der Merwe spoke to his closely cropped graying head when he said paternally, "Well Jan, you've been a good boy this week. Your baas will give you…1.16 Pounds. "

Jan turned his burnt eyes up toward his baas. His wide nostrils dilated, "Thank you my baas, thank you," and his voice warm as he feverishly collected his reward. He had cleaned furrows that week, knee deep in icy mud, he had dug up the weeds. His baas had given him the minimum daily wage. "Thank you my baas, thank you," he placed the money in a little cloth bag which had once held tobacco. Then he shuffled towards his wife Siena who was sitting against the wall suckling her baby next to the rest of the women.

     - "Siena, are you coming to buy things? God knows, you'll grumble all week if I do it myself."

-"All right, all right, I'm coming…the stuff doesn't run away, mind you" she turned to the women, "the money does." And she gathered her baby who continued suckling, and ran after her husband.

        Mr. van der Merwe called: "Andries Fieries." Andrie's chest, barrel-like and ribbed protruded through his button less, colorless shirt. "Andries, let's see." He examined the list, "only worked three days this week, drunk for the rest." Andrie's face creased into a wheedling, wet smile and his words floated forth, faintly tinged with the vaaljapie which he brewed from fruit peels and leaves, bushes and patent medicines. –"My basie, how can my basie say that? My baas knows that I have a terrible back." And as if to prove it he put his hand on his back and hunched forward.

-"You bastards, your only good for drink…aren't you?"

-"Yes, bass, yes my baas."

-"And good for having more infernal brats." Van der Merwe started counting the money.

Andrie's sighed, "Whatever my baas says…it's true. Basie, please my basie." Two yellow teeth showed through his parted lips, "Can't basie lend me an extra five shillings?"

Van de Merwe banged the coins on the table, "What the hell do you think I am – a bank?"

Andries jumped back but his bloodshot eyes were imploring, "Ag, my basie is so good and kind and I paid it back last time, please my basie."

Van de Merwe's eyes glinted, flattered, contemptuous, "All right, you filthy vermin, here take it!" He leaned forward and cuffed him under the chin, "but get drunk quietly, I don't want no fights!"

-"Yes my basie, of course my basie, thank you my good, kind basie." Andries took the money with both hands.

 -"Ach, your baas does lots good things for you. Lets see, Petrus Snyers"

-"Yes baas." Petrus approached

  -"What does the baas do for you?"

-"What?"

-"What does the baas do for you, Petrus?"

-"Baas remembers the firewood, baas gave it last Saturday after little Petrus chopped wood for baas."

-"Yes, yes…you're a lucky boy" Merwe's eyes were warm again, "you have a kind baas. Now lets see how much is your baas going to give you this week?" He pushed two piles of silver toward Petrus.

"Your baas will give you….1.16 pounds."

-"Thank you my baas. "Petrus picked up the money one coin at a time. Suddenly he turned frightened eyes towards der Merwe "Baas, please baas. That’s only 1.15 pounds – seven two shilling pieces and one shilling piece on this pile. Please I need for meat to make soup for the children."  Petrus left the coins on the table. The crowd looked to see what  would happen next. Van der Merwe bent forward, his eyes riveted to Petrus's face "You black bastard, you take what I give you!" He swept the coins to the ground. Petrus dropped on all fours and crawled about the dust collecting his money.  Van der Merwe looked down at the groveling man and lifting a well polished boot, kicked him on the behind. Petrus fell forward on his forehead. Van der Merwe laughed, his laughter rushing up from his stomach, shaking his whole body. Than every one was laughing, the little copper colored children and the colored men and their wives and the white clerks. Petrus managed to gather all of coins from the dust and walked limply to the other end of the shop.

Van der Merwe continued calling: "Abram Roy; Johannes Strauss; Willem Engelbrecht."  - All shuffled quietly to the table and took what their baas gave and went to buy their week's provision.

       Van der Merwe carefully placed the remaining notes in his wallet and made his way to Mrs. Carstens. She was rushing between the counter and the shelves laden with mealy pop and potatoes and sugar. The crowd pressing around the counter sullenly made way for their baas. As der Merwe reached the counter he said: "Please give me three shilling's worth of candy. My kids have been sitting in the car all this time."

Mrs. Carstens gave van der Merwe his candy and said: "Do give my regards to Mrs. van der Merwe."

-"I certainly will. Thanks and good bye." He left.

Mrs. Carstens turned towards her colored clients. The rumble of talk and laughter began again as some of the people pushed and pulled to get to the counter and others laden with provisions pushed and pulled to get away from the counter. Siena next to the wall divided long, red and white stripped sugar sticks among her children. Five bony pairs of fingers closed tightly around the half sticks as each child withdrew to a corner to gobble or suck slowly at his candy. Siena's youngest son of three years old stood beside her and sucked at his candy. His rounded, protruding belly peered through a tear in his shirt which hung to his knees.

-"It’s the first food they've had today." Said Siena to Maria.

Many of the mothers had made their purchases and returned to their places beside the wall.  –"Oh yes," said Maria as she wiped her baby's nose with a scarf.

-"Listen all you, the missus says to tell the mother's of the school, we can have the leftover scraps from the butchery to make soup for the children of the school. The missus says they won't get sores if they had soup."

-"But its dog food, isn't it?" Mina said slowly. She had black large eyes that stared straight ahead. "I've seen them: 'Sa, Sa dog! Sa dog! Come get it!' Jan gives it to them before he closes the butchery and when they're done he chases them away with stones so they won't hang around the shop."

-"God, we're not dogs!" said Siena.

-"But the soup it's good for the sores." Said Maria

-"You give your children dog food." Said Mina

-"As you have it."  said Maria

She held her baby and pushed her way through the crowd that was beginning to ease on the counter,  

-"Oh good." Said Mrs. Carstens. "This the meat and bones for your children."

-"Missus, thank you missus, but missus can give the scraps and leftovers to the dogs."