They sat in the parlor, Katie’s parlor. Rachel sat on the fat sofa and Katie on a padded chair. Both chair and sofa were covered in a flowered pattern of greens and yellows and reds. The flowers were small and the pattern seemed to move everywhere at once and to focus nowhere. The backs and arms of the sofa and chairs were covered in large and small doilies of many colours which Katie used to crochet and create, deftly moving the crochet hook in and out of the loops - until her fingers stiffened. Between them stood a paraffin heater and a small round table which held a paraffin lamp. Katie bent forward and turned the wick so that the flame sprang up yellow in the glass and enlarged their shadows on the wall and the roof which was high and joined in an upside down V above their heads. It was made of corrugated iron. And the cold of the night seeped through it to the cold of the cement floor. Katie and Rachel moved closer to the heater but it was helpless against the concerted attack of the cold. Katie poured strong bush tea from the blue enamel pot. She poured it into delicate white porcelain cups and added milk from a white porcelain jug. She placed one cup on a matching saucer and passed it to Rachel with the sugar. Rachel bent forward, added sugar and took the cup. The spoon hit the inside of the cup loudly as she stirred. “This will warm us, “ said Katie without conviction . “I don’t remember a winter as cold as this,” said Rachel. Katie’s brown eyes smiled sadly, ”We say that every winter. “ They drank in silence. From the bedroom came the snores of Katie’s husband, Max. “He sleeps well,” said Rachel motioning with her head towards the bedroom. “That he does,” said Katie. Rachel finished her tea, put the cup on the table , “Better be going, “she said. She leaned forward, drew her coat about her and buttoned it. She had kept it on to fend off the cold. It was brown, of good quality but worn. She took the flashlight from her pocket. She wore no gloves and no hat. “Good night,” said Katie, as Rachel stepped out into the black and cold night.
That’s how it was between us. We were friends. We never talked much but we were there for each other . Company and help. One time Yehuda swallowed a little red. button and Rachel was hysterical with fear. I sat with her watching him as he shat into his potty and then poked through the shit until we found it. I watched Rachel disappear into the darkness, closed the door and moved towards the tea things. I placed the cups on the tray and was about to take them to the kitchen when all of me shivered and I put the tray back on the table.It was too cold to go into the kitchen so I picked up the heater and carried it carefully to the bedroom. Then I went back and took the lamp. Brrr it was cold. I unbuttoned my dress, and threw it over a chair. Then I pulled my flannel nightie over my knitted underwear. I wasn’t going to take off all my clothes in that cold! I turned off the heater, blew out the lamp and crawled into the bed. It was warm ! I snuggled in beside Max’s snoring back.. Bed. The best thing about this marriage!. I wouldn’t dare tell that to anyone . Not Rachel certainly. Why! She and Isaac sleep in separate beds. Always have. They don’t even have that for comfort. Of course they do have children. But Rachel has packed Yehuda and Vivienne off to boarding school so she hardly has children either. Strange business children. Babies... Ugh. No thank you. I sank my head into the warmth of Max’s back and fell asleep.
. Seven children we were and me the eldest and all of ten years old. I held the babies and washed them and fed them with whatever food there was and wiped their stinky bottoms. Best to leave their bottoms bare. I decided that early on when I only had three brothers and sisters to take care of. That way there were no rags to wash, only the floor, and most of the time they played outside the corrugated iron hut on the veld. And when they shat on the veld there was no need to clean up. Everyone shat behind the bushes on the veld. Pa never did build that outhouse he kept promising ma. She did carry on about it.
I helped deliver Bessie, ma’s last baby. Blood and ma screaming. I kept thinking ,”How did these babies get into her stomach?” I sure knew how they got out . Yuk! What a mess! Bessie was all bony and blue. Christine yelled at me to hit the baby on the back but how could I do that ? It was such a tiny little helpless thing so I just stood there clutching it to my chest. Then Christine cracked me across my face , grabbed the baby and shook it hard, so hard that it began to cry. Then she stopped shaking it and wrapped it in a blanket and rocked it gently. “That’s better, that’s better, shush up now, shush up now,”she crooned. I couldn’t understand why she made the baby cry in the first place? I asked myself ,”How come babies never get into men’s stomachs?” Then I wandered outside on to the bare veld . I remember the pink of the sky was fading to silver and then a dull grey as the sun slowly came into view. Then I did it. I stood up on the rock and rubbing one bare foot against the other I declared,” God hear me! Never, never will I let any baby crawl into my stomach. I swear.” I spat three times on the ground and then spat into my hands and rubbed them together. Tears were streaming from my eyes. I wiped them away with the hem of my dress for Christine was shouting, “Katie, Goddammit do you want your ma to die. Where is the hot water?” I had clean forgotten about the water!
Funny, that’s what came into my mind that morning when I woke. My oath.. No one to talk to, no one to ask. That one time I tried to ask ma about the blood . It suddenly came pouring out of me. Why, she cuffed me across the back of my head and said not to talk dirty. Can you believe it? And she with seven children. I was so scared. I was sure I was going to die. All the blood was seeping out of my body. That was when he found me , Max . . . I was sitting on the rock. and crying. A shadow loomed above me “What is dirty about dying?” I asked it and looked up. It looked like a man. I wasn’t even surprised to see him standing there. “Dying is a nasty business, not a dirty business,” he said , “Who is dying?” “I am,” and I began to shiver and cry. He pushed a cloth under my nose and said “wipe your eyes.” It was so soft and so white. “Its beautiful,” I said, “So white. Too white, too soft. I can’t use it, I will dirty it” and I handed it back to him and for the first time lifted my eyes from the ground and looked at him.. . “You’re a funny little girl. Why are you dying?”I told him “I am bleeding to death. It doesn’t hurt. I know who you are. You are the angel who has come to take me to heaven.” At this he laughed out loud. “That is the nicest thing I have heard in a long time. My name is Max and I am just a man. Please take my hanky. This cloth is called a hanky. Its a present from me. “I shook my head, “too pretty,” I said and looked at him. He really was a man and he had brown eyes and they were soft under bushy eyebrows, a bit watery but kindly. “You are not going to die,” he said, “Ask your mother about the blood.” “I tried,” I said forlornly. We were both silent . “ She hit me. Said I was talking dirty.” “Dear God,” he said and was silent. Then he said, ”I will try to tell you. That is holy blood. It cleans your body , once a month so that when you are bigger you will be able to have babies.” “No, no,” I said, ”You must make it go away. I don’t want any babies crawling into my stomach” “I promised I would not let any babies crawl into my stomach.” “Promised who? “ “God.” “Oh” he said and burst into loud laughter. “Why are you laughing? Angels don’t laugh” “Because , I told you. I am a man, I am not an angel. You have very pretty eyes.” I burst into tears and covered my face with my hands. When I looked up he was gone . The veld lay clear and pristine/undisturbedunmolested, its stones blinking in the sun. Somewhere in the distance I heard the humming of a car engine. On the ground next to my bare foot lay the white handkerchief. I clutched it to my heart. I had pretty eyes, he said so and he gave me this beautiful soft white thing. I knew he was an angel. The blood did not come back for a long time so I knew it was true. I had asked him to make it go away and he had made it go away.
“Katie, where is my shaving water? Did you heat it?” That’s what Max shouted and shook me out of my remembering.. I quickly poured the hot water from the kettle to the basin and spilled some on my hand. But I ignored the sharp burn so intent was I on carrying the water to him in the bathroom. He was wearing his tattered gown. I remember I placed the basin on the table and said, “That gown is as old as we are.” “It keeps me warm,” he replied “ anyway I‘ll get a new one as soon as I get my money for the cotton. Its coming along beautifully. Lots of buds already. Its going to be a great crop/harvest . I‘ll get the bank off my back . Mr. Horn, here’s a cheque for the whole loan. No more favors, thank you.” “I don’t believe that you managed to get so much money together. Was your cotton crop that good?” Max imitated the bank manager. He could be so funny!” Max do sit down. Can I get you a cup of coffee?” “And then” he put his arms around me holding the razor in one hand and the tube of shaving cream in the other “Then I will look down my nose at him and say ‘the farming instinct, that’s the secret. You have to feel when its right to water and when its right to spray and how the weather is turning. I was blessed with that instinct.” He waltzed me about the narrow bathroom, ”and then I will take you to the sea for a holiday and then we’ll come home and we’ll fix the plumbing so that we have an indoor toilet and all the hot water we want all the time and then and then” he planted a kiss on each of my cheeks ,”and then, we’ll buy our own generator and light up the house every night. Not like Rachel and Isaac.” “Oh go on,” I said and pushed him away and I was smiling. That’s how we were. I returned to the kitchen, put more wood into the stove and stirred the porridge and then I prayed . “Dear God, let it be true this time., Just this once, please God let it come true. Just this once let that cotton grow” Grietjie had finished milking the cow and brought in the pale of warm yellow milk with its top layer of froth. I set some aside for making the butter. Then I stuck my fingers into the dough to test it. It had risen nicely but I let it wait. Max came out of the bathroom shiny and clean and humming a little tune and I covered the table with the white starched cloth that Jeanie had given me, ladled the mielie-pap into the enamel plates and set them on the table. Max and I sat down to breakfast. It gave me so much pleasure - sitting down to a meal at a table which was covered with a starched white cloth. It still does even today. Why, in my family they simply put a big pot on the table and everybody stuck their hands into it, grabbed what they could and stuffed their mouths full. No one even sat down. Anyway there weren’t enough chairs. I remember the first time I ever saw that . It was after we were married and Max drove me all the way to Port Elizabeth to visit Jeanie, his sister. What a shock! He told me so many stories but never this one. He never said a single word about Jeanie and Joseph and the big house and all those servants -a black man standing behind me at dinner to serve everybody as if they could not stretch out their arms to get the food. It looked so pretty on big white plates and then the candles and the strange mumbling. And they only spoke English, no Afrikaans but that mumbling was not English. It was all too grand. I could hardly eat and all those knives and forks. “What is that mumbling,” I whispered to Max . “The Friday night blessing - Its what Jews do on Friday night.” Then it suddenly hit me together with the white table cloth and the black serving man and the knives and forks. She was his sister.”Is Jeanie Jewish?” I whispered. He nodded. “Then,” I thought ,” he must also be Jewish. Why didn’t he tell me ? “ I knew Jewish was something bad. And then I thought some more, “He didn’t tell me, so it must be something very bad.” But I looked around me and everything just looked very grand. Sort of like a fairy tale. Then I glanced sideways at Max . He was eating quietly and he didn’t seem quite comfortable. But I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything. Boy! was I mixed up! I started to ask myself ,” Was it bad what I did? Getting married in the magistrates office and not in church? Did it also make me Jewish? What was Jewish anyway? “The green dress Max had bought me was tight under the arms and it didn’t look as pretty in Jeanie’s dining room as it had in the shop. It was hard to understand what they were saying. Max did try to teach me English and I did pick up a lot of words but there in fairy land they would not come out of my mouth. So I watched in growing wonder as more and more food appeared on the table. But the most beautiful of all was the starched white table cloth with little white roses that seemed to come out of the cloth. I remember I rubbed my finger gingerly against them and when Jeanie smiled at me Afrikaans words came popping out of my mouth, “The cover of this table is so beautiful. It makes all the food look beautiful too.” Everyone laughed. Max grabbed my hand and then I saw his face was very red. Jeanie smiled at me but I was so embarrassed. Even now as I tell it I get hot under the collar and my hands get sweaty. How I wished the words had not come pouring from my lips. I kept them tight closed for the rest of the visit. When we left, Jeanie gave me three white table cloths and said,” Don’t keep them in your cupboard. Use them every day. It does make the food look pretty” And I used them everyday for a long, long time .. When they frayed at the edges I crocheted a border for them and when they tore I darned them.
Strange, that day at breakfast I said to Max as I poured the coffee “I don’t know what is the matter with me ,” “Here I am thinking of poor Jeanie. You know, I think she liked me. It was Joseph and the children who really couldn’t stand the thought of a goy in the family.” “Yeah but she let them influence her plenty.”he replied. Then I remembered her letter about the wedding. That whole conversation comes back to me now. Funny, haven’t thought about it . “The worst was that letter ? I cried buckets. ‘We want you to know how happy we are. Our Debby is getting married. Such a wonderful family and her intended is going to be a doctor,” I mimicked Jeanie “ Joseph and I have talked it over and we think it would be better if you did not come to the wedding. It is such a long trip.’ Long trip, my foot and you made me crochet a cloth for them! “I wiped my tears angrily with the edge of my apron. He ate his mielie pap in silence and then he said, “She did help us buy the farm, you know and she never asked for the money back.”” Oh Max, ‘help us’ you mean she gave you all the money to buy the farm and I thought it was all yours. I was sure you were very rich.” “And that’s why you married me?” “No, silly, I was too young to be so sensible. You know that I married you because you were an angel that God sent to me.” And we both laughed aloud. We were silent for a while and then I said “That’s the worst of it . She could insult us as much as she liked and we had to be grateful. Oh well, never mind . Some fairyland!”
Strange how clearly I remember that day. I poured the milk into the butter churn and turned the handle. The wooden blades flew through the milk and then slowed as the milk thickened and thickened and then suddenly it was butter! “A little bit of magic and I did it,” I whispered to myself as I patted the butter into bricks - butter bricks - I call them . I heard Max drive off in the ‘buckie’ and wondered why he had not walked to the lands to check on the cotton. I crossed my fingers and prayed again, “Dear God, let the cotton crop be good , please, please.”
And the cotton was magnificent and the bales were many - but it was too late. Too late . . .
I had put on my bonnet and was poking around the tomato plants hoping to find one ripe tomato. I looked up and saw a barefoot little Coloured girl run in through the front gate . That made me angry because the Coloureds know they’re not allowed to use the front gate . But then the girl was standing before me panting for breath, “Missus come quickly , Its the baas -Mr. Max, its Mr. Max” I dropped my basket and shook the girl, “What is it? Come where? What happened? Where is the baas? “ “In the shop. The miesies says you must come quickly.” I started to run,”Oh God, Oh God, let him be alright….” I reached the little farm store . He was lying on the cement floor, his pipe beside him. Rachel was dabbing something on his forehead and shaking him,”Max, Max . . . Can you hear me? Max, please hear me, Max. . . .” His eyes were closed and his nose was very white. I bent down, touched his face and whispered “Max. Max, oh dear God.” He opened his eyes and closed them again. Some one said, “He’s not dead.” I looked at Rachel and Rachel said, “Let’s get him home. “I said, “Phone the doctor.” Rachel said, “The line is out of order.” Isaac said, “First I will take him home and then I will drive the truck into town and fetch the doctor.” He lifted him gently into the truck.. There was no room in the front for me so I climbed onto the platform at the back..
At home, Isaac helped me lift him onto our bed. He opened his eyes again and I said, “Look he is smiling. Max you’re going to be fine. Why did you have to give us such a devil of a fright.” Isaac said, “I’m going to get Dr. Krige” and left. Rachel had walked from the shop. You see she really was my friend. She never left the shop ever and here she was . She made me some tea and said,” There he was sitting on the counter telling everyone about his cotton crop and how great it was going to be and everyone was laughing at the way he was going to show the bank manager . . . The next thing , he was lying on the floor. He just keeled over. But he’s going to be all right. “ I held his hand and caressed his face. Max opened his eyes and looked at me .. “I love you,” he said. That was a bit embarrassing, in front of Rachel but she just smiled. “You gave us a devil of a fright” she said and told him what had happened and how he had fallen. “I don’t understand it,” he said and lay back on the pillows, his eyes closed.
I remember Isaac came back with Dr. Krige a long time later. It was already dark because Rachel had lighted a lamp. Max was fine. He was sitting up in bed. Dr Krige examined him and asked for black coffee. I remember he patted Max’s shoulder and said that he would be all right. He just needed rest. Max sat up and told him all about how he had fallen and lost consciousness. The doctor drank his coffee and gave Max an injection.. He said it would help him sleep comfortably. Max fell asleep immediately. The doctor went to his car. .I was so grateful that everything would be o.k. and then it happened. Max suddenly gasped and his face turned red and then purple. He had no air. I jumped up and tore open his shirt. Rachel ran out screaming for Dr. Krige. He ran back in and grabbed Max by the shoulders shouting “Max wake up, wake up,” Max opened his eyes.He was looking at me and then he shook and lay still. Isaac and the doctor massaged him and blew air into his mouth.Rachel put her arms around me. And then Isaac said something in Yiddish to Rachel and Rachel put her hand on the doctor’s shoulder. The doctor looked at me and then I knew he was dead. I, ran to the bed , put my arms around Max. He was so still, “Don’t leave me !” I cried and cried and couldn’t stop. I felt so alone.
They buried Max in the Jewish cemetery of Upington
Of course I drove home with Isaac and Rachel. My brother Christiaan asked me to ride with them but I did not hesitate. Isaac and Rachel were so helpful and they were there when Max died.
We drove and drove on that long dusty road back to the farm. I thought we would never get home. I felt so drained.
But then there were all these people camped out in the veld outside my house. First I saw the carts and the horses and then I saw that there were buckies and cars too. I hardly knew anybody. They came up to me as I got out of the truck and shook my hand and said how sorry they were and what a good man Max was. I started crying all over again and then I heard something about money and debts and how sorry they were to bother me on this sad occasion. I asked Isaac what they were saying and he said,”I think Max borrowed money from some of them and they are asking you to pay them.” “Nonsense,” I said , “Max never owed anybody money.” I honestly didn’t know. Imagine, Max never told me and true, I never asked. About the bank , I knew but not about other people. To this day I don’t understand. Why didn’t he tell me? I was so confused then. When I think about it now I just see red. And that was just the beginning.
Next day Mr.Horn, the bank manager all got up in a suit and black tie came all the way out to the farm. That scared me. I knew Mr. Horn was bad news. Of course I couldn’t talk to him without Isaac . You see I still trusted Isaac, blind fool that I was. I sent Grietjie over to call him and he came immediately. At first I did not understand what Mr Horn was saying. I even made him tea. I had to leave the farm because Max owed so much money and he was going to take it away from me and sell it. “But its our farm,”I said. “We bought it with Jeanie’s money.” I looked at Isaac but he just sat there. “What was this man doing on my farm anyway? “ I stood up “Get out . Get out I said. “Get your arse off my property this minute or I’ll take a whip to you,” I didn’t shout. I whispered but all of me was shaking.. That showed him. He grabbed his briefcase and ran down the path shouting, “I’ll be back.” Isaac was sitting with his head in his hands. Judas himself. I should have taken the whip to him.”
He promised to work something out with Mr. Horn . And he did. My friend Isaac Renner. Max may you turn in your grave . . . he was your friend too. So they came over together. “Its all settled,” he said. “You can stay in your house,” she said.”Everything will be allright . Nothing has changed.” But they didn’t sound happy. So I said “What is it” and then he came out with it,” I had no choice “ he said. “Max owed the bank so much money. You see Horn was already getting ready to sell the farm at a public auction. So I had to take a loan from the bank to buy it” I couldn’t believe what I thought I was hearing! “You just have to sign here/” I didn’t even see what he was pointing at.”Look, “said Rachel,” It says here you can live in the house for the rest of your life.” “You can’t just steal my farm like that. And you’re my friends! Jeanie gave us the money and we bought it with real money and I signed and Max signed.. I wont, I wont just give you that cotton crop. Max would never allow it. Go! Go! Just go.” How dare you!” I think Rachel tried to say something but I just wanted them out. I shouted, “I don’t need you! I can run the farm by myself!
And then it just got worse and worse. Perhaps I could have run the farm alone but they took the tractor away, the nice new green John Deere. Max was so proud of it! “Please, just until the cotton is in,” I begged. They only looked at the ground and showed me all sorts of papers. The man came with a policeman. “Your husband was behind with his payments,” one of them said. Maybe they were lying, maybe they weren’t. I didn’t know who to ask, certainly not my “good friend” Isaac. When they came for the bucky I knew it was all over.
The sun was setting when I reached their house. The sky was all red and orange. “Desert sunsets are so beautiful,” I read that in one of the books Max brought from the library in town. Its true and that was what I was thinking when Rachel opened the front door. “What must I sign?”I said, “They took the tractor and the bucky. Just leave the house and the cow and my chickens and my table cloths” She started in on ,”It was the only thing we could do. He owed the bank so much . . . “ but I shut my ears and signed the papers and walked out. To this day I don’t know if that was the right thing to do. But I did it . So I went on living in the house and I watched Isaac’s tractor and lorry haul away the cotton, bales and bales of it. They gave me some money every month. So I did not starve. Was it all Max’s fault? Did he really make such a mess? I don’t know. That’s Jews for you. My best friends stealing my cotton and my lands. True, Max was Jewish too but he was different. Now he’s dead.
Can you believe it? Isaac used to wave to me as he passed the house back and forth to my lands . The gall of it!
I stayed alone in the house for that year after Max died . I wore black - black bonnet, black dress, black apron, black stockings and black shoes. Sometimes I got so angry with Max. Sometimes I felt sorry for him. There were times when I even forgot all about him. Rachel sent cakes and jams and I don’t know what else. I sent them all back. I don’t need any of her false gifts!
In that year so much came back to me. I recalled it all so clearly. The day Max reappeared. It was my sixteenth birthday. I was sitting on my rock in the veld with my stick - my pencil. I used to write with it in the sand - the letters and words I learned at school. I didn’t go to school anymore. I had to help with the other children. My father said school was a lot of nonsense and a waste of time. He never went to school so why should I and I was only a girl! I cried a lot.
So there I was writing 16 over and over again in the sand.
“That’s a pretty pattern.” I looked up frightened and there he was – my angel!. I jumped, “You gave me the devil of a fright. . . . please excuse me, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it. You are really an angel.” He threw back his head and laughed,” Not an angel but not the devil either.” And that’s the truth Max you were no angel, but God knows you were not the devil either.
74 years old. He never told me how old he was but then I never insisted he tell me. Sure he was older than I. But that much! I do this with a stick in the garden over and over and it always comes out the same. I write 74 minus 48.Its always 26. He was 26 years older than me. And 16 plus 26 makes 42. He was six years younger than I am now when he married me! Max why, why didn’t you tell me? It wouldn’t have made any difference. It didn’t make any difference did it? That was not the only thing he did not tell me. He never told me he was Jewish. He never told me that all the money to buy the farm had come from Jeanie -not a penny of it was his. I finally worked it all out and asked him. But then at that time it did not seem to matter.
Now, now that he was dead it all looked so different. He was 42 years old. What did he do before he married me? Where had he been? His papers showed that he had been born in Lithuania . Never mentioned such a place. I just assumed that he had been born in South Africa like everyone else. Isaac and Rachel would know . . . but they can keep that knowledge! And the farm . . .I never thought to ask why Jeanie should have bought Max a farm. Now it wouldn’t leave me alone. Why? Why? And then it was suddenly clear. That I was a goy was the least of it. They wanted Max out of their hair because they were ashamed of him. For that they were willing to pay. Why were they ashamed of him? What did he do?
Was that part of the deal? They bought him the farm and he stayed away from them? After the non-invitation to the wedding I refused to go near them. Max sometimes suggested we visit them. You know what . . . that was just how clever Jeanie was, And yet, and yet Jeanie did write on all the Jewish holidays and she even left us some money in her will. “Whose to know?”
I did not eat much. I was never hungry. But I took care always to set the table with the white table cloth, a plate, a knife and spoon and a side plate and a serviette. It hurt so to sit down to eat and he not opposite me. But the hardest was getting into bed. That empty bed! At first I tried sleeping on the spare bed on the stoep but the mattress was so lumpy. Max used to tell me a story about a princess and a pea. Well, this mattress made me a real princess! I could feel so many peas! Night after night I would wander from the stoep to the bedroom to the living room to the kitchen until one night I just collapsed in tears and tiredness on our bed. I fell asleep and dreamed of the white hankerchief. After that it was easy. I could sleep in the bed.
In the beginning Christiaan and Bessie came to visit . But all they could talk about was that Jews were all the children of the devil. They were sure that Max was in cahoots with Isaac and Rachel all along. Now really! They told terrible stories of how Jews drink the blood of children at Passover! Now, that is just nonsense! But I kept my mouth tight shut. Bessie said I would burn in hell for marrying a Jew. She said that way back then when she found out Max was Jewish and now she said it again. Bessie of all people! She never had a single man want to marry her – such a dried out old maid! They stopped coming.
The day after the first anniversary of Max’s death I knew I had to do something or I would go mad. I put my black dress and my black stockings in the clothes tub and washed them. As I was rubbing the material between my soapy hands I knew what I would do. But first I filled the basin with boiling water from the kettle and slowly I washed all of me. Then I chose my most colourful dress. It had large blue and red flowers. I put it on and sent Grietjie to fetch Kerneels. He came to the back door. There he stood holding his hat in his hands, so clumsy, so shy. “ Auntie Katie, is anything wrong?” He is not my nephew, not even a relation but that is how it is with us. The young respect the old and so they call them auntie and uncle. “Auntie Katie,” he said squashing his hat in his hands,” I came straight from work.” “Nothing changes.” I said, ”Please come in.” “No, no,” he held up his hands ,”I am full of grease.” “You do look a sight,” I said and went out into the yard. “I want you to drive into town and get me some books from the library. I will pay you.” Then he said the funniest thing “Auntie Katie,” he said, ”Where is it, that shop which sells the books?” I laughed and laughed. It was probably the first time I had laughed since Max died, “You’re just like me,” I told him “I also thought a library was a shop. The first time Max took me there I asked him where he suddenly had so much money from to buy all the books he was piling up.” I explained about borrowing books and returning them. Kerneels’ large pimply face slowly turned a bright red. “And you’re going to read them?” he asked in wonder. I suddenly felt myself blushing. Kerneels moved from one foot to the other, “Auntie Katie, I would like to help you. Please, I have never been in such a place . . . only books. What must I do there? I don’t know .” “Its so simple,” I said. Kerneels began to cough and his face grew redder and redder. I poured him a glass of water and then I remembered how uncomfortable I had felt that first time in the library . The librarian who seemed to me a formidable lady kept shouting at me to be quiet. And I could read! Kerneels probably hardly knew how. “You know what, “I said, ”I will come with you.” Kerneels took a gulp of water and gave me such a grateful smile. “I don’t work on Saturday ,”he said, “Is that place open ?”
On Saturday morning Kerneels came. He held his hat in his hands before his chest but this time he wore flannels and a white shirt, shoes and socks. Even his face was shining and its pimples looked less forbidding. He knocked on the front door. I opened it. He just stood there so I said, ”What are you standing there for man? Come in. I’ve made some coffee.” Kerneels was so clumsy and so shy. He just stood next to the table clutching his hat so I had to tell him “Come on man. Sit down,”You can put your hat on that shelf.” He did as he was told. I handed him the coffee adding sugar and milk without asking if he wanted any. Kerneels lifted his cup with both hands. “Its good coffee,” he said, ”I didn’t want to be late so I didn’t have any before.” We drank the coffee in silence . . . well not exactly, Kerneels made the loudest slurping noises you can imagine and I loved it. I kept thinking how horrified Jeannie and Joseph would have been and that gave me a lot of satisfaction. I wore my blue and red flowered dress. We drove in silence and then he said,”I want to ask you, Auntie Katie, is the table broken?” ”Why no. “ “Oh,” he said, ”You covered it so I thought it was broken. You see I could fix it if it is broken.” You see he was just like I was when I met Max and it was so sweet of him to offer. His bucky rattled over the stony road and once I almost hit the roof when it bounced over a particularly rough patch. When we reached the town I told him which way to drive to the library entrance at the side of the town hall. I really wanted him to come in with me but he wouldn’t hear of it so he stayed in the truck.
At the entrance to the library I stopped and breathed deeply. I felt so alone. Actually I had not been there for several years because Max used to choose the books for me and return them when he went to town on other business. I had rarely gone into town. Sometimes we went to the bioscope on Saturday afternoons. Max loved cowboy pictures “skop, skiet en donder”. Me ? I liked Tarzan and all the musicals. When I had needed anything Max got it for me or we asked Isaac. Rachel also rarely went into town. She had other reasons. She had to run the shop and besides she was usually too embarrassed by Isaac’s drunken shenanigans to want to be seen with him. Now Max was dead and Isaac . . .. How could he have done that to me?That’s what was going through my head when I pushed the glass doors open. The steel book cases and the steel rimmed glasses of the librarian made the place quite scary. I was actually shivering as I walked to the librarian’s desk and asked her where the romances were. She smiled at me and then I felt better. The shelves were full of books. I did not know how to begin. Then I remembered Max saying that he always looked at the covers. They all looked so exciting but I told myself I couldn’t read them all at the same time so I put them all in a pile, closed my eyes and picked out six. One cover had a lady with a low cut dress and big breasts, another showed a little girl and a man standing on a red carpet. There was also one with a man in black pointing a gun at a frightened lady. I can’t remember the other covers. Kerneels didn’t say a word when I got into the truck. He kept looking at the books as he drove out of town and back to the farm. Then he wanted to know whether I was going to read all six books.I said yes and thought how stupid, what else would I do with them but I bit my tongue and did not say a word. . That was all the words we exchanged until he stopped at the house. Then he said that the petrol cost 15 shillings. I counted out the money from my purse.
It was so good to have books to read! Real people to think about! I even talked to them sometimes but I always made sure that Grietjie was not around. Those women did things I would not have dared do! Quite disgusting really.
I read each book twice. The second time was always different. That was when I could really tell those people what I thought of them.
Then I sent for Kerneels and he agreed to take me into town to get new books. And so it came about that Kerneels and I went into town every second Saturday. At first there was not much to say but that was fine. It was good to get out.
One Saturday he asked me in his hesitating shy way what the books said. I began to tell him the story of the book I had liked best. He got so interested. Of course I left out the really juicy parts. I never told him how the lovers kissed. All the books had many words about long, long kisses and all that. He asked whether the lovers got married. I said I did not know because the book ended when they made up their quarrel. He said that that was a pity. I wanted to know if the pity was that they made up. “Oh no,” he said, “That they did not get married.” I said that we would never know and so we laughed together.
The next time we went into town he asked me to tell him another story from one of the books but one with a really happy ending. And that’s how we began our Saturday stories. It was fun telling him stories and fun to read them and think how I would tell Kerneels.
One Saturday I was still telling about the young boy and the neighbor girl when we reached home. It was silly sitting in the truck and the engine running so I could finish the story. I invited him in for coffee. He hesitated. He was so shy. But he really wanted to know the end of the story so he turned off the engine, grabbed his hat and came into the house. “It’s a good story,” he said. I put on my apron and got the coffee ready and then I decided to fry some eggs on the primus. He just stood there staring at me. “Sit!” I said and then, “You can put your hat on that shelf.” He obeyed. “About the story,” he said. So I continued “Julia’s father was dying. . .” I had my back to him but I could feel his eyes on me as he swallowed every word. And then the funniest thing happened. He just stared at me as I arranged two plates with two fried eggs and a piece of brown bread and butter on each and put one before him together with a knife and fork and the other before me on the table. I poured the coffee. He continued staring. Suddenly the penny dropped. I should have known! He’s just like I was way back then. Of course he didn’t know what to do with the knife and fork! So I said ,”Start”, picked up my knife and fork and began to eat. That’s what Max did that first time he took me to the tearoom in town and I just goggled at him. I kept my eyes on my plate but I felt Kerneels watching me and then slowly pick up his knife and fork and begin to eat. We ate in silence and I tried not to look at him. I knew that would only embarrass him more. Then he said, “Such a shame the father died before they could get married, “ he said and began to cough. I poured him a glass of water. He drank, put the glass on the table and said, ”Its hard to talk and eat at the same time. Pa would never let us.” We didn’t talk anymore. Actually he did very well with the knife and fork. It took me much longer. When Max turned his back I used to grab the food with my hands and stuff it into my mouth. He finished every morsel on his plate and put the knife and fork down on it. “But he forbade them to marry and then when he got so ill he really wanted them to. Such a stupid man,” he said. He took his hat and left.
After that, whether the story was finished or not I invited him in for supper. I would get up early on those Saturday mornings and cook soup or meat so the supper would be ready when we returned from town. He learnt to talk and eat at the same time and became quite good with the knife and fork.
One Saturday I saw people lining up at the bioscope to buy tickets. I said,” Let’s go to the bioscope.” Kerneels said he did not understand English and he’d heard that all the movies were in English, no Afrikaans movies. Then he turned to me with that shy sheepish look of his and whispered,” But if you really want to go . . . “ I said I would find out what was playing while he parked the truck. How lucky, it was “Annie Get Your Gun” and I knew he would be able understand it.
I went back to the truck and promised him it would be allright. Then he got out . I took his hand for he was still hesitating and pulled him toward the ticket line. He held his hat before him and with his free hand picked at a pimple on his face. I saw he was sweating. When they reached the ticket counter she ordered two tickets in a loud imperious voice as she had seen Max do. She thought the ticket - girl snickered at her as she checked her change but she didn’t care. The tickets cost a lot of money, more than she had expected and Kerneels blushed a beetroot red when she told him their price. “Antie Suzie that is a lot of money,”he said. “Don’t worry I ‘m paying for them.,” she said curtly. When they moved into the darkened theatre he took a sharp breath and grabbed her hand. “Like a little boy” she thought. The advertisements began and then he did become like a little boy. “Is this the movie?” he whispered. And so she whispered back just as Max had done those many years before that the movie would only begin after the interval. He was too embarrassed to ask all the other questions which crowded his mind as he watched pictures of a big ship and men blowing music and a very important man and lady. The lady wore a hat with a feather and smiled “just like Katie” he thought. The man wore a military uniform with lots of medals pinned to his chest. “He must be a very brave man,” he thought.
Suzie did not buy chocolates as Max would have done at the interval. She was already doing sums in her head. Instead they sat in their seats while children and adults clambered back and forth over them with their ice creams and chocolates. And then the movie began. Kerneels was mesmerized. He sat forward in his seat hardly daring to breath. “That was wonderful,” he said when the lights went up,”just wonderful.” They were both silent on the drive home. Then he said, “Ag she was really a crack shot hey. There aren’t no girls like that for real.” She said, “Kerneels would you like to go again?” “Yes, oh yes,” his pimples all blushed red as he lifted his glance from the road and turned to her. “Well then you must help me. I have the milk from the cow. I can make white cheese and sell it to those Jewish ladies in the town who are too lazy to do anything. But you will have to help me take it to them. “Oh yes,” he said so fervently that he swerved the buckie across the road.
It was humiliating knocking a Mrs. Hummel’s front door and waiting outside while the maid went to call her. Katie had considered going to the back door – after all she was peddling something. “Never , never, ever go to the backdoor, “Max’s voice came to her. “The backdoor is for kaffirs.” Oh so long ago . Her eyes filled with tears as she saw her barefoot self carrying the figs he had given her to deliver – as a gift . Why was he giving Mrs. Hummel a present? Maybe he never told her. Maybe she never asked. She shrugged her shoulders . So many questions. Too late. She had followed him so blindly all those years , like a puppy. Mrs. Hummel came, a big woman. Her three sons were well known rugby players. She recognized Katie and invited her in but Katie shook her head. “How are you?” she said addressng Katie in English. Katie was taken aback by her smile and in English! But she found her English and offered the cheese she had so carefully prepared . Mrs. Hummel happily bought all the packets. “Fresh home made cheese!You are an angel, sent to me from heavenl” she said, “this is just what I needed. I am having the Wizo meeting at my house. I so wanted to make cheese cakes. Thank you! Thankyou! “ Katie felt her face reddening as Mrs Hummel counted out the money.”any time you have extra cheese for sale , just bring it to me.”
Katie returned to the bucky clutching all the money. “Look” she opened her hand to show Kerneels. They both giggled like naughty children. “That was so easy” she said. “Do you know Max never let me sell cheese to the Jewish ladies. Rachel always does when they are short……… She said I was an angel. . . . .once long ago,when I was very young I thought Max was an angel.” Her eyes filled with tears and she wiped them with the back of her hand. Kerneels looked at her wide eyed, “She was right, that lady, you are an angel. . . .Please don’t cry . . . what have I done?” She could not stop the tears flowing down her cheeks. She looked up at him and then she put her arms around him. He held her, “please don’t cry,” he said. They sat in silence holding each other. Then Katie straightened up, gave him a little smack and said, “Jesus, look at us two.” Kerneels, his face red, started the truck , “Where to now?” he asked looking straight ahead.
She moved further back in her seat and edged toward the door her eyes on the floor. “its full of sand, “she said, “the floor of the bucky.”
“What?. . .”he said, “Oh yes.”
They sat in silence, the engine running noisily.
“Do you want to go to the library?” he said.
“Yes, of course.”she replied. He reversed the bucky and turned left. “Antie Katie” he began
“Don’t ,”she snapped,”don’t call me Antie”
He did not reply but drove to the library where he parked carefully. She took her parcel of books from the back and got out. When she returned he said,”We don’t have to , you know” “What?” she said startled. “Sorry.” Said kerneels, the bioscope, we don’t have to, you know,”
“Don’t be silly, of course we do” she replied.
So they drove to the bioscope wordlessly.
He was soon immersed in the magic of the flickering pictures. It was a cowboys and crooks movie and there was lots of shooting and those guys could certainly ride their horses and it didn’t matter that he couldn’t follow all the English words. Katie followed the good guy anxiously, taking a deep breath when he nearly fell off his horse as he was aiming at the bad man..
On the way home she began to tell him a story of one of the books but it petered out. When they reached her home he looked at her and she motioned for him to come in . Conversation livened up over the meal as each began to recount the exciting moments of the movie.
The next day , Sunday he knocked on her front door . He had been to Church. She opened the door , surprised, “Kerneels what are you doing here? “ “We must get married,” he said. She took one step back, her mouth open, “Kerneels, oh Kerneels you are such a silly little boy”
“No” he said
“And I am a silly old woman.”
“No” he said.
“Well then come in man. Don’t just stand there.”
They were married in the magistrates office two weeks later. Kerneels had wanted a church wedding but Katie insisted that she wanted to be married just the way she and Max had been married.Kerneels took Max’s place in the double bed and Katie showed him the joys of that bed. Kerneels said,”My pa and ma, when I was little I saw what he did to her. She always looked so sore.” “It doesn’t have to be like that,”she said ,”I learned from Max.” “Yes,”he said,”Yes!”
At the corrugated iron house he shared with his mother, he collected his clothes,stuffing them into an old beat up suitcase which he tied with rope. Then he said to his mother, “I’ve taken my clothes, you can rent out my room.” “Where are you going?” she asked.”To Katie’s,” he was already halfway through the front door. “Just like that?” “Don’t worry. We got married.” “What? When? She’s older than I am!” her hand reached for her weatherbeaten cheek, “ Dear God! She aught to be ashamed of herself.” But Kerneels was already in his bucky .
So Kerneels and Katie settled down to married life . He continued to work at the railways riding his trolley along the tracks to check them and fix the dislodged sleepers . At the end of every week he handed Katie his paypacket just as he had handed it to his mother. “That whore of Babylon ,”his mother shouted,”She stole my son and now she is stealing my money. Its scandalous! She’s old enough to be his grandmother Ughh.” For Kerneels it was simple. When a son married, his money went to his wife, not his mother.
Katie was delighted. She was a wife again and her husband brought home money every week. Not like Max . Where did his money come from? She never knew. She never asked “The farming instinct” huh. I don’t remember one really successful crop except, except ,”her eyes filled with tears,”that last cotton crop. Damn Isaac ! Damn Rachel “ She thumped hard at the dough she was kneading.
Now there was someone else in the house and there was bed and that was good, so warm and comforting and sometimes even exciting. And at her age! She blushed a little.
But Max had made her laugh with his stories of the war and the sea and all the the wonderful places he had been . Or not been, who knows?”. She wiped her tears with the corner of her apron.
Now it was she who told the stories and Kerneels who listened. He sat for hours with his brown eyes focussed adoringly on her as she cooked or baked or churned the butter. So what if he was only 24 and she 50!
