Читать книгу Synapse - Antjie Krog - Страница 10

a story

we grew up together on the farm, we two were the same

early in the morning it was still dark then I could see:

he was waiting by the trees, they were like aloe trees, he was waiting

then we would play there we shot little birds, we rode the horses

we would move move down to the stream till the old lady

with the bonnet came out and called the way Matjama was

I was the same we ate porridge from one bowl one o’clock

then Matjama ate from his plate then I ate from my plate

when he didn’t eat nicely then the old lady brought him outside

then he sat next to me then we ate together I knew Matjama

well well like I knew myself if a white child

came and he wanted to play then we didn’t hear what he was saying

Matjama also Matjama also didn’t understand

white children’s language till he went to school

then we were apart till then we were

the same, the same then he went past us

then another baas said: Baas Willem is looking for you

there in Senekal at the café so I waited for him there

but I was scared I wouldn’t remember him properly

what I remembered well was the little scar

Matjama had a scar above his eye from the accident

when we were small then I saw a man standing there

and suddenly I said loud right behind him:

‘Hii, dumela Matjama!’ then I saw no, the man’s head jerked

then he laughed and then I saw the scar then he said

he was going to get married on a farm and I must come with him

we must stay together we must be together forever

so I came so we stayed together until today, this very day

I knew him like I knew myself when he came out of the house

I could see if he was tearful or cross but one thing

he didn’t like squabbles he looked away when there was fighting

and when he spoke then tears would fall from your eyes

in the farmyard I looked after the milking, sick calves, chickens

every year the henhouse was full of chicks that had to get ants to eat

pruning the trees the grapes laying drains and digging them open

I slaughtered sheep, cattle, pigs I can build with sandstone

ironstone bricks I can put in a ceiling wooden floors

I can put on a roof I can drive all the years I drove you to school

went to fetch flour if there was something I didn’t know how to do

I watched, I watched then I saw then I could do it

one thing that makes me unhappy

is that the work I can do doesn’t have any papers

I can do all these things but there are no papers to show it

now I’m not the Hendrik Sengapane Nakedi that I really am

I want to have some land a small piece I want to know: it’s mine this

is where I will stay this is where I will build to be in my own place

plant vegetables and trees apricot peach and a shade tree

Matjama’s mother taught me a person

must have a shade tree but one thing for sure: I won’t leave Matjama

I will only leave Matjama on the day that he dies or I