Catching Tadpoles by Ronnie Karils

Author:Ronnie Karils
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 9781431429660
Publisher: Jacana Media

As for debtors who changed address to avoid a writ of attachment, the procedure was to turn the matter over to a tracing agency which employed ‘detectives’ to track the offenders down. The artful ones often changed address to make themselves scarce – and good luck to them. I knew of Jewish families who did just that or adopted other ploys. A distant relative was inclined to order a piano on trial and enjoy some 30 days of free practice and even making a little income by giving private tuition to students. The instrument would be sent back by the ‘dissatisfied’ customer, who would order a piano from a different supplier and so on. Who was I to be judge in such matters, where even those who could afford to pay were constantly working on ways to beat the system? I had no qualms about mislaying the Credit Control file of the most destitute of my clients.

I was relieved that I had nothing to do with the trackers except when the occasional one came seeking information which might assist them. They were either retired policemen or enthusiastic youngsters who had failed matric. The former smoked non-stop, looked like they possessed only one rumpled suit and wore battered hats. The latter were more irritating, over enthusiastic and asking questions they had learned from the movies or from reading Sherlock Holmes. I made a pretence of being serious in searching my brain for any clues, but never ever gave them as much as the time of day. On one occasion I remember playing the fool with one of the sleuths by pondering on the incessant coughing of the man he was pursuing and suggesting he check out the TB patients at the General Hospital.

It wasn’t as though I had any inbuilt respect for authority. My schooldays were evidence of that. The battle between ‘them’ and ‘us’ was played out on the streets daily, as police hunted for pass offenders among the throngs of overwhelmingly white pedestrians, shoppers, smatterings of black messengers, street cleaners and job seekers – the latter being their targets. Distorted views were evidence enough among even my fellow articled clerks, who would meet on a nearby corner every afternoon for a lift to law school. One future officer of the court jeered inanely about an African messenger mounting a moped. ‘Just look at this squint-eyed boy trying to ride a scooter.’ The man turned to him and gave him a piece of his mind. ‘The black chickens and the white chickens live peacefully together,’ he chided our associate, ‘so why can’t we human beings? Do you realise how backward you are parading your ignorance?’

White racist attitudes were rife and all around us. My grandfather’s driver, a quiet man called Morris Maloi, sometimes drove me into town. It was almost murder when a white driver was held up behind him if he failed to pull away smartly enough at a traffic light. The road rage was palpable as the motorist

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