Too Late the Phalarope

by Alan Paton

  They set off, and he sat down on the ground and lit his pipe, enjoying the sun and the freedom. For at Buitenverwagting, where he was born, the hills ran down with kloofs like these to the low country, to the reserve of Maduna. He knew them all, and the trees and the ferns and flowers, the sharp-tasting water plant that children chewed for its sour juice, and the magic never known again, save in memory, for duty and law and custom closed on you, and work too, and you did what thousands had done before you and thousands would do after you, so that something could continue that had no magic or wonder at all.

  The black boys came to watch him as he sat there. Some sat on the ground too, as though they would sit there as long as he. They talked quietly amongst themselves, about his business here and the soldier’s ribbons that he wore, so that he smiled to himself, and they seeing it knew that he understood them, and said that also. And if there had been time for it, he would have had the power over them too, and they would have done anything that he required, and found it pleasure. But he rose suddenly, for he had seen the two men come out at the top of the kloof. The boys scattered at once, observing his great height with wonder. He walked past them, giving them a small salute in return for their greetings, which greatly pleased them. He chose a path that seemed to lead to the big kloof, and walked along it through the fields of maize, and the weeds of old fields lying fallow. His choice was right, for the path suddenly turned, and in a moment he was in the bush, where the singsingetjie, the shrill cicada, made its piercing song in the coolness. Here was what lay in the store of memory, the water running over the stones and the sharp-tasting water plants and the mosses and ferns. Then suddenly ahead of him, under a little fall of water, he saw the girl Stephanie.

  When he was near her, she turned and looked at him, smiling the secret smile, and then submissively turned her eyes to the ground.

  — Stephanie.

  — Yes, baas.

  — What are you doing here?

  — I came to see my child, she said.

  — Here? In the kloof?

  She smiled sheepishly.

  — Down there, she said, where you were.

  — Why didn’t you ask me if you could come?

  She looked to left and right, taking her time.

  — I thought the baas would say no.

  — And tomorrow you must be in the court.

  — I would have been there, she said.

  — How?

  — I would have walked.

  — Now you can ride, he said.

  But seemingly she did not want to ride, for suddenly she had fled by a little path at the side of the fall, that came to another, with no way up except over the rocks of the fall itself, green and slippery. He followed her at leisure, and came to where she was standing.

  — Why did you do that, he asked.

  She made him no answer, except to smile in her strange and secret way. Then she heard the sound of the men above, and drew back. And as she drew back she touched him. And he did not move.

  He did not move, neither forward nor back, nor did she. It was all silent but for the sounds of the men above, and for his breathing, and the racing of his heart. Then she turned round and smiled at him again, briefly, and moved forward an inch or two, standing still with her eyes on the ground; while he, shaking with shame, went and sat on a stone, and took off his cap and wiped his brow, hot and cold and trembling. She did not turn to look at him, but went on smiling, with her eyes on the ground. Above them the sounds of the descending men grew nearer and louder. She lifted her head and looked upwards into the kloof, waiting for them with a kind of forlorn enjoyment.

  Then Vorster called out, are you there, lieutenant?

  — I’m here, called the lieutenant, the girl’s here too.

  — Baas.

  — Yes.

  — Can I see the child before I go?

  — Yes.

  The smile of irresponsibility left her face, changing it and surprising him.

  — Dis my enigste kind, it’s my only child, she said.

  She was filled with some hurt pride of possession, so that he, knowing her life, wondered at it.

  — It’s my only child, she said, and looked down at the ground again, waiting hopelessly. He, feeling pity for her was suddenly purged of the sickness of his mind, and stood up and put on his cap.

  — That was a good plan, lieutenant, said the young constable from the top of the fall. He looked for a place to land, and jumped like a cat, softly and easily.

  — I could do that once, said the lieutenant.

  Vorster smiled disbelievingly, not that the lieutenant could have done it once, but at the implication that he could not do it now. The lieutenant signed to Maseko to lead the way down the kloof.

  — You, Stephanie, he said.

  She smiled, but not at him, and followed obedient, and Vorster followed her.

  I waited till they had passed out of sight, and then I took off my cap and said, o God wees my genadig, o Here Jesus wees my genadig.

  I did not expect any voice to answer, yet if a voice had answered me, I would have believed in it. If some voice had spoken to me there, out of the sky or the kloof or the trees about me, or if some new strength had come into me there, or if I had felt again as I felt in the days of my innocence, I would have believed in it. Yet I did not expect any voice to answer; that was the truth of it.

  Then I thought of Nella and the children, with sudden realisation as though I had just seen myself, in a blinding light that exposed me. If it shocked me to see myself, it shocked me no less to see my danger. It was like a kind of shadow of myself, that moved with me constantly, but always apart from me; I knew it was there, but I had known it so long that it did not trouble me, so long as it stayed apart. But when the mad sickness came on me, it would suddenly move nearer to me, and I knew it would strike me down if it could, and I did not care. It was only when the sickness had passed that I saw how terrible was my danger, and how terrible too my sickness, that when it was on me my wife and children could be struck down, and I would not care.

  I was suddenly filled with love for them, and longed to see them again and to touch them, as soon as I could. I put on my cap and went hurrying down the kloof after the others.

  THIS WAS THE TIME that Japie Grobler came to Venterspan, when they opened the new office of the Social Welfare Department. And because they had no other place for it, they opened it in the old butcher shop. It was a queer place for Social Welfare, for it still had the beam from which butchers hang their meat. Nothing could have suited Japie better, for it gave him a lot of new jokes, and he was a man who when he had a joke, brought it out whenever he could. He never troubled to remember the people he told it to, so that he would tell you the same joke two or three times and not know. He went to Matthew Kaplan and begged from him one of the hooks from the new butcher’s shop, and he put the hook on the beam, right there in the middle of the office. He would be seeing some person in his office and making notes on paper, then he would suddenly stand up and go and put the piece of paper on the hook, and say seriously, that hook is for hangende sake, which is in English pending cases, and then he would roar with laughter. He tried his joke on the Dominee, who is a sober man and who brought a case to him which he took soberly and earnestly. And Japie roared with laughter, but the Dominee did not laugh at all. Then Japie felt a fool and always after felt a fool in the presence of the Dominee. When he roared with laughter you could hear it in the street, and in Kaplan’s store, and even at the Service Station, so that the Venterspan people must have thought that Social Welfare was a joking business. My brother, having heard the story of the hook already went more than once with some friend into the office, and then he would ask Japie what the hook was for, and Japie would tell him again, and roar with laughter; my brother would laugh too, and the friend also, but at the joker, not the joke. But at the second visit Japie saw through the whole childish business, and was reluctant to tell the joke at all. Then my brother would put on
the manner that made people a little afraid of him, and say, Mr. Social Welfare Officer, why do you have that hook? So Japie would have to tell the joke again, feeling like a fool. After that he grew shy, and told the girl in the office to warn him when the Oubaas was coming, so that he could slip out through the back door and do Social Welfare among the weeds till my brother was safely by.

  The Social Welfare Office came to Venterspan because of our Women’s Welfare Society, which we had set up about a year before, to deal with the cases of the poor, and of naughty and neglected children, not only of the poorer white people, but also with the small klonkies from the black people’s location, who liked to hang round the store and the Service Station, and round the place of the buses, where they offered to carry the white people’s things, and sooner or later would take something that they had no right to. It was my sister-in-law who made it so that we would look after black as well as white children. She even had a committee of the black people in the location and would go down and sit at the same table with them there in one of the houses, and they all smiling and pleased, though of course she would not have sat with them in the town. This is not a thing that would be done by all Afrikaner women, and I tell you it to show that my sister-in-law, for all that she was full of care, had a strength of her own; and my brother would treat her doings with a kind of growling, like a lion growls, and you do not know if it is pleased or otherwise. For she was a lover of the Lord Jesus Christ, and like Him she was gentle and pure, and took to her heart His saying that all children should be suffered to come unto Him. She was the President of the Welfare Committee, and was loved and respected for herself, and not only because she was the wife of my brother. It was she who got my brother to go to Pretoria and ask the Government for the Welfare Office, so he went and got it; and he liked to say frowning, it took me thirty minutes. For my brother was Chairman of the whole Party in the grass country, and though he never went to Parliament in Cape Town, being as halt and lame in public speech as he was in walking, yet he ruled the Party as he ruled his own home, and said that the Members of Parliament were his span of oxen, though that was a joke he made only privately.

  Now Japie was also a boy of the grass country, and had grown up with them all. He was of the same age as my elder nephew, and they were deep friends in a way; but only in a way, for one was tall and grave, and the other short and full of jokes. They went together to school and university, and Japie had the open door at Buitenverwagting and was like a child of the house; and he and Pieter and Frans were like brothers together. Indeed there was a time when we thought he might have become their brother-in-law, but that was not to be, for the moment we began to think it he was away like a frightened bird; and soon after that his people moved away, far beyond Sonop, to the farm Genadendal, which is the Valley of Mercy.

  Therefore I was surprised when I passed the place of the busses, to see him there with his suitcases looking pleased to be in the grass country. Then he saw me and rushed at me, calling me not Tante Sophie but Ta’ Sophie, which is a thing I have never liked, it being a silly habit from the Cape. He caught me by the arms and kissed me on both cheeks, and looked at me as though I were his mother, which is a deep pleasure for a woman like myself.

  — What are you doing here, he said.

  — What do you think, I said.

  I looked at my shopping bag, and at my clothes, which were such as you wear in your own town that has only one street.

  — Have you left Buitenverwagting, he asked.

  — Yes.

  — Why? Who’s there?

  — Quiet, man, I said, for he was still holding me and shaking me about. We left because of the Oubaas’s leg.

  — I heard about his leg, he said. And how is the Oubaas? And Ta’ Mina?

  — The Oubaas is well, I said sharply. And I said very sharply, and clearly so he could hear me, Tante Mina is well too.

  — And who’s at Buitenverwagting?

  — Frans is there, I said. But why are you here? Have you left Social Welfare?

  Then I suddenly understood, and I laughed too, to think that Japie Grobler was what my brother had got for going all the way to Pretoria.

  He took his hands away from me, and put on what he thought was a proud and noble look.

  —I can’t leave Social Welfare, he said. I am Social Welfare. I’m the new Social Welfare Officer for Venterspan, Bremerspan, Sonop, Rusfontein … oh about ten places, wait a bit, it’s all down on paper.

  He took out one of those long envelopes that is marked On His Majesty’s Service, though I hear the Government will change all that.

  — Keep your paper, I said. They’ve put you in the butcher’s shop.

  His face fell a bit, but he recovered himself and said, I asked for a butcher’s shop.

  — Why, I said.

  — So that I can make mincemeat of all the social problems of the grass country.

  He roared with laughter, like a man suddenly attacked by some new disease, so that all the people in the street, white and black, looked at us.

  — Stop your fooling, I said.

  — Seeing you won’t read the letter, he said, I’ll tell you what they said to me privately. They said they wanted a man who will be held in respect by all, but won’t knuckle down to the predikants and the Members of Parliament and the rich farmers, but will reform all the klonkies in the location, and will uplift the whole district and maintain the ideals of our forefathers and …

  — Don’t think you’ll run the Social Welfare Office, I said. The Oubaas will run it.

  Then he was serious again, and I wondered what was coming.

  — I jumped for joy when they told me I was coming, he said; I thought, now I’ll see old Pieter again.

  He touched me, right in my heart, there in the middle of van Onselen Street. Then he took me again by the arms, and said to me gently, Ta’ Sophie, Ta’ Sophie.

  — Don’t Ta’ Sophie me, I said.

  I looked up the street, to hide myself from him, and my eyes, and I said to him, don’t think you’ve come to play the fool in the Social Welfare Office.

  He roared with laughter, and all the people turned to look at us again, which I least of all desired.

  — Must you laugh like that, I asked.

  — That laugh will be respected here, he said. When they hear it, people will say, you hear that, that’s the man who reformed the grass country.

  — You’re a fool, I said. I’ve got no time for fooling. You’ll come round soon?

  — This very day, he said.

  He called to one of the klonkies that were hanging about, and he told him to carry the suitcases and I said to him, that’s what we got you here for, to stop things like that.

  — I’m not in the office yet, he said.

  So I left him there with his luggage, and went on, not sure whether to be sorry or pleased that Japie Grobler was our Social Welfare Officer, but glad that he had come to Venterspan. Ah, if he could have bound the other to him, and brought out the laughter from that dark unhappy face, for there was laughter enough there, if one could have brought it out. And laughter heals mankind and makes the darkness light and eases pain; and it makes the eyes light up, and the soul throw off its heaviness, and sends the blood quicker through the veins, so that it casts out its evil humours. Ay, if he could have laughed and come again amongst us; but as his burden was his own, so was his happiness to sit silent in the veld, moved by some lonely joy. Child, child, would to God I could have died for you, would to God I had stayed hammering on the door, and cried out not ceasing. Would to God my love had had some power greater than your coldness, some flame that would have set the walls of your heart on fire, so that I could have come at you. And Japie, poor cheerful fool, went laughing through the town and the grass country, and tinkered in his merry way with this problem and that, and saw nothing of the greatest of them all.

  Then I went to the court for our Women’s Welfare Society, to hear the case of the girl Stephanie.

&
nbsp; MY NEPHEW WAS IN THE COURT when I got there, and that was a pleasant surprise to me, for he is not always there. He was also surprised to see me, and smiled at me with pleasure. He would not let me sit in the public seats, but took my arm, and led me to the seat next to himself, and I was proud to be led by a tall strong man, who was blood of my blood and of the same name as myself, and held in respect in this place. And I felt as I did on the day that Louis Botha left the great people that he was speaking to, and came over to me and took my hand in both his hands and said to me, your letter lifted me up when I was down. Which words I have never forgotten, because they are written in my heart.

  The magistrate was not yet in, and I said to him, I’ve just met the new Social Welfare Officer.

  — Who is it, Tante?

  — You must guess, I said.

  — Someone I know?

  — As well as you know your own brother.

  He thought for a minute, and then he said, well, well. Then he grinned at me and said, Father will be pleased.

  For I must tell you that my brother, though he had a great fondness for Japie, thought he was a clown.

  — Who is it, I said.

  Then he grinned at me again.

  — Don’t be silly, he said.

  But I insisted and so he humoured me.

  — Japie, of course.

  I was disappointed that he had guessed so easily.

  — I could see he was a bit cast down to have to go into the butcher’s shop, I said, but he said to me, I myself chose the butcher’s shop.

  — Why, Tante?

  I told him and he laughed aloud.

  — Pieter, why don’t you laugh more often?

  — You’re after me again, he said. Quiet, the case is beginning.

  They brought in the girl Stephanie, and then the magistrate came in, and we all stood up, and when he had sat down, we sat down again, but the girl stood in the dock, smiling her secret smile. Then she would think it not right to smile, or perhaps her smile had some time angered someone in authority, for she would frown as though by that she would show respect for the law and the court, and would show that she was not careless and indifferent. So she went between smiling and frowning, so that unseeing persons might not have known that that was the sign of her nervousness, and might not have believed it had they been told, thinking that she must by now surely be used to being in the court.