Tjieng Tjang Tjerries and Other Stories by Jolyn Phillips

Author:Jolyn Phillips
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-928215-18-9
Publisher: Modjaji Books
Published: 2016-02-01T05:00:00+00:00

Hanna

I remember the day Hanna got sick. She cried all day, ever since that morning when Ma had to go and fetch Hanna at the shop because she wanted a tjoklit and tjips.

‘No,’ Mamma had said, ‘there’s no more.’

But Hanna didn’t believe her. While Ma and I were at the washing line she walked off to the shop and sat there crying like an owl for ‘tjokoloks’.

‘I want Gom!’ she screamed like a pig being slaughtered. ‘Gom buy sakkewa. Gom buy suckers now!’ Gom was what Hanna called my Uncle Jerome. She never said his name properly. He’s dead too, like Antie Lena, but I don’t think Hanna knew.

I was the only one that understood Hanna’s special language. Sometimes she would tell me how people laughed at her. ‘Hulle lag in my in.’ They laugh into me.

You couldn’t really cheer her up when she was sad. So when she cried we just let her. But she could be happy too. Sometimes she grabbed a broom and started singing. Then Ma would sing in soprano, I would chirp in with them and we would miela-miela-miela like a real choir. Then Hanna would laugh.

Hanna had been staying with us since Antie Lena’s funeral. Before Hanna got sick, Ma had been struggling to keep Hanna happy so that she wouldn’t notice Antie Lena passed away. Antie Lena was the closest thing to Hanna. Oorle Antie Lena reckoned that Hanna thought that Antie Lena was her mother. Antie Lena was the spitting image of Ouma. But our money was drying up and Ma told Antie Nettie, our next door neighbour, she couldn’t afford all the luxuries for Hanna anymore.

‘Why don’t you call Charmaine, Daleen. Forget about your pride. I mean she has Hanna’s money.’

‘No, I can’t, Nettie. The Lord will provide.’

‘Ai, it’s so tragic, kuintjie. I wish you well.’

Ma and Antie Charmaine had a fight at Antie Lena’s funeral. They did it in front of the grave, the flowers and all the people, even the Pastor. At first, they argued with their hands and tjie-tjie-tjied. Then Antie Charmaine said, ‘You owe me.’

‘Excuse me. Owe you?’ said Ma, her hands on her hips.

‘Yes. All those years my mother had to look after you. Or did you forget how your mother left you on our doorstep? If it wasn’t for my mother where would you be, huh?’

‘I would be here nonetheless, Charmaine. I am here by God’s grace and no one else’s. We are not kids anymore. You remember all those times I had to do your chores and those times you made me feel like a nothing. Well, those days are over!’

‘Well, Hanna is staying with you. It’s the least you can do for the family.’

‘For the family? For the family? Why don’t you tell the family how you sold your mother’s house from under her and how you gambled the money at the casino? Do you know how you broke your mother’s heart? She didn’t die of a heart attack. You killed her. Every day she prayed that you would become better.

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