The Complete Voorkamer Stories by Herman Charles Bosman

Author:Herman Charles Bosman
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780798161527
Publisher: Human & Rousseau
Published: 2011-10-24T04:00:00+00:00

Divinity Student

“For the way you’re feeling now,” Jurie Steyn said to At Naudé, “if you want my advice, I’d say you should go somewhere where you can get away from civilisation, for a bit. Nerves, that’s what you’ve got. Why don’t you go on a fishing trip to the Molopo for a week? You know – get right away from things.”

Chris Welman had another suggestion to make.

“If you want my advice,” Chris Welman said to At Naudé, “you’d go and camp for a while at the Bechuanaland end of the Dwarsberge. That’s almost on the edge of the Kalahari. You’ve got no idea how desolate that part is. It’s a howling wilderness, all right.

“You’ve got to be there only a day or two, and you’ll forget that there ever was such a thing as civilisation. You could even take Gysbert van Tonder along with you. That should help your state of mind a lot. With Gysbert around, the lower end of the Dwarsberge would look absolutely barbaric. Gysbert has got that effect even on a city, I mean.”

Somehow, Gysbert van Tonder did not seem quite as pleased as he might have been at the subtle flattery conveyed in Chris Welman’s speech.

“You go and –” Gysbert van Tonder started ungraciously. Then he bethought himself.

“Ah, well,” Gysbert van Tonder ended up. “I suppose one can have too much of civilisation. And I am quite willing to believe that that is At Naudé’s trouble – his listening in to the wireless and reading the newspapers every day. His brain has got too active. But you can be glad that that is a kind of sickness that you will never suffer from, Chris Welman.”

Gysbert van Tonder seemed very pleased with himself, the way he made that remark.

Strangely enough, the friendly controversy in which Gysbert van Tonder and Chris Welman saw fit to indulge did not tend to allay any of the restlessness with which At Naudé’s spirit was charged.

For At Naudé acted in what we could not help feeling was a quite singular fashion. First he half rose to his feet, emitting a long moan. Then he suddenly slumped back again into his riempies chair, at the same time smacking the open palm of his right hand in a despairing manner against his forehead. His visage was noticeably contorted.

“All the same old childishness,” At Naudé exclaimed, “that’s supposed to be clever or that’s supposed to be funny. I can’t stand it anymore, this heavy what’s assumed to be Marico fun. If it’s not Jurie Steyn doing it, it’s Chris Welman. Or it’s Gysbert van Tonder. And if it’s not Jurie Steyn’s wife, it’s Oupa Bekker or it’s me. And if it’s not me, it’s – oh, I tell you it’s driving me mad. And when I switch on the wireless it’s the same thing. It’s either the Free State Monday Jokers or it’s the Tuesday Choir of Comical Ouderlings or it’s the Wednesday Half-Laughs with the Upington District and Schweizer-Reneke/Kaokoveld Trek-Boers.

“And then, when I

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