Afrika by Colleen Craig

Author:Colleen Craig [Craig, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-77049-021-5
Publisher: Tundra
Published: 2008-08-16T04:00:00+00:00

“The thing is this,” Kim wrote to Themba the morning after they arrived at the farm, “the Van der Merwes are firmly rooted in another century – the nineteenth, I would estimate.”

Kim put down her pen. She wanted to describe everything to Themba from the moment Oom Piet drove them through the high wire gate, down the gravel driveway, to the stone farmhouse with its green roof and sprawling front porch. A dozen or so people, some black and some white, had been there to greet them. Which one was Themba's grandmother, Kim had wondered. Then a stout old African woman who, the second after they climbed out of Uncle Piet's Land Rover, ambled straight over and folded her arms around Riana. Riana exclaimed with a joy Kim had rarely seen. “My Elsie,” she cried, embracing her. “This is Kim.”

Elsie looked Kim over with wonder. “My, my my,” she said, grinning broadly, before stepping back so the rest of the family could be introduced.

Themba's grandmother possessed Lettie's same wide body, but her skin was darker than Lettie's, the color of dark bark. Of course, Kim couldn't write that to Themba. Just like she couldn't reveal the dream she'd had of him wearing only a leather apron.

The Van der Merwes weren't going to be easy to describe either. Briefly: Kim's fair-haired, fifteen-year-old cousin, Marjike, possessed enough nail polish to open a beauty shop, yet her nails were badly bitten, some bleeding. (Her mother forbade her to wear anything but clear polish, so she nibbled at her fingers in protest.) Then there was Marjike's steely-eyed brother, Japie, who smelled of animal droppings and spent his spare time shooting small birds and burying their bones to see if fossils would form.

Not to mention Kim's long lost grandfather, Oupa. Oupa had a wiry old beard and huge, sunburnt hands. “Come,” Oupa had said, ushering them into the dining room for a heavy lunch soon after they arrived.

As if in slow motion, the family crossed the slate floor, past the stone fireplace and dark, museumlike furniture of the front room toward the massive wooden dining table. The sideboard was almost as thick as the table. On top of it were oval-shaped photos of stern-faced ancestors frowning down at Kim with expressions of dislike. With the formality of church, everyone sat on throne-like chairs. “Let's bow our heads,” said Oupa tugging at his steel-wool beard.

Kim shivered as Oupa gave the blessing. It seemed like the thick stone walls of the house exhaled a continuous cement-cold breath. She said her own prayer. For herself. And her mom.

“Amen,” said Oupa and the food was passed. Riana, who had been a vegetarian for as long as Kim could remember, retreated about three thousand feet into herself when the joints of mutton, and the thick sausage coils were served by Elsie and her grown daughter. Kim surprised herself by enjoying the strange meats. What she did not enjoy was the way Bliksem, who in spite of his itching and drooling

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