When she met Petra’s parents they seemed as white as any Afrikaner, but she noticed something she found most ominous: in spite of the sun, Mrs. Albertyn had no freckles.
Back home she told her husband, ‘As clear as the lines in the palm of your hand, that woman’s Coloured.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘No freckles.’
The Van Valcks returned to the school to present their hard evidence to Dr. Sterk, who laughed nervously and said, ‘Really, I can’t act upon freckles.’
His use of this word angered the Van Valcks, who rose to leave. ‘My husband knows what to do,’ Mrs. Van Valck said. ‘The life of our daughter is endangered.’
‘Now wait,’ the principal said, inserting himself between them and the door. ‘A public charge could hurt this school. It might even rebound against your daughter.’
‘It’s our daughter we’re thinking of,’ Mrs. van Valck said.
‘Will you grant me two days? Please?’
‘We’ll grant you two months,’ Leopold van Valck said generously. ‘But only if you take this seriously.’
‘I do. I do. I’m thinking of the great damage that might be done to the Albertyn girl if your charges are made public …’ He tried vainly to find some good way to end this sentence, but none surfaced. ‘And are found insubstantial,’ he added.
This angered both the Van Valcks, but it was the wife who replied, ‘They are substantial. That girl’s Coloured. Now get her out of here.’
‘It had better be two days,’ Mr. van Valck said sternly.
That afternoon Dr. Sterk held a meeting with three of his wisest teachers, two women and one man, good Afrikaners all, and their counsel was crisp and clear: ‘The Van Valcks are troublemakers, especially the mother. She raised the merry devil last year when Minna received a caution on her deportment. If she’s threatening to bring public charges, she’ll do it. Better get the Albertyn girl out of here quietly and forget the matter.’
‘But is the girl actually Coloured?’
‘No sign we’ve ever seen,’ the arithmetic teacher said, ‘but she’d better go.’
‘Mrs. du Plessis, you’ve always told me what a splendid child Petra is.’
‘I did and I love her. But in a case like this, it may be best for the child’s sake if she leaves.’
The three teachers were adamant. The welfare of this important school superseded all other considerations, and whereas to suspend Petra might be heartbreaking for the girl, even the rumor that she was Coloured might have disastrous consequences for the school if circulated by determined people like the Van Valcks.
But Dr. Sterk refused to accept such advice, and next afternoon drove out to the Albertyn store, where he asked the owners to get into his car so that he might take them to some isolated spot on the veld where they could talk privately. As they drove in silence the Albertyns could only speculate on what painful thing might have happened at school: Petra had done something warranting punishment, and they were distressed, but they were also prepared to support Dr. Sterk and school discipline. Mrs. Albertyn placed her hand in her husband’s and took deep breaths as the car stopped and the principal turned toward them. He looked ill-at-ease, distant, and finally he came out with it.
‘Charges have been made that Petra is Coloured,’ he said.
‘Oh, Jesus!’ Mr. Albertyn gasped.
‘Most serious charges, by persons prepared to press them publicly.’
‘Oh, my God!’
The anguish expressed by Mr. Albertyn was an indication of the gravity of this accusation. To make such a charge in South Africa was not like someone saying in Hungary, ‘I think Lazlo’s a Rumanian.’ Or saying in the west of England, ‘If you look into it, you’ll find that Masterson is really Irish.’ In normal countries such charges were matters of social judgment; in South Africa they determined life and sometimes death.
‘Is there any foundation to the charge?’ Dr. Sterk asked.
‘None whatever,’ Mr. Albertyn said, and right there the great suspicion began, for the principal noted that whereas Mr. Albertyn leaped forward to defend his family and his daughter, Mrs. Albertyn did not, and he said to himself: Why is the woman so quiet? She must be hiding something. I do believe Petra is Coloured!
At the conclusion of the interview on the veld Dr. Sterk suggested, ‘I think under the circumstances you’d better take your daughter out of our school.’
‘I refuse,’ Mr. Albertyn cried. ‘Have you any idea what it would mean to the child? Thrown out of school for doing nothing wrong?’
‘I understand your sensitivities,’ Dr. Sterk said with a certain unctuousness. ‘But have you considered the consequences if a public charge is made? There would have to be a Race Classification inquiry. The effect on Petra …’ He paused, not ominously, but with just the hint of a threat: ‘The terrible consequences to yourselves?’
Belatedly Mrs. Albertyn spoke, and she did so with quiet force: ‘Have you been thinking of the consequences, Dr. Sterk? Of persecuting a poor little child?’
These words had just the opposite effect to what she had intended. Dr. Sterk interpreted them as a challenge to his integrity, and said crisply, ‘I’m always mindful of my duty, Mrs. Albertyn, to my pupils and to my nation. If you are attempting to pass into a white society, that is against the laws of our country, and a board will determine the facts.’
He took them back to their cottage, then speedily returned to Venloo, where he joined a meeting of the school committee: ‘A most serious charge, not yet formalized, has been made that our child Petra Albertyn is a Coloured. Have any of you evidence bearing on this?’
Two of Petra’s teachers had asked to be present and volunteered their assurances that Petra Albertyn was one of the finest—Dr. Sterk cut them off: ‘We’re not testifying to her quality. We’re interested only in her race.’ And the way in which he spoke these words conveyed the clear impression that he now considered the accusations against this child justified. This encouraged the vice-principal to say that he had been watching Petra for some time, and she not only looked suspiciously dark, but she also behaved in distinctly Coloured ways.
‘What do you mean?’ Dr. Sterk asked.
‘The way she says certain words.’
Venloo’s dominee, Reverend Classens, was a committee member, and he asked ponderously, ‘Do we appreciate what we’re doing here tonight? This child’s entire future is at stake.’
‘No one could be more sympathetic than we are, Dominee,’ Dr. Sterk said. ‘But if she is Coloured, then one of her parents must be Coloured, too. They can have a future among their own people. Not here in Venloo.’
‘Does this mean,’ the dominee asked, ‘that you plan to examine every child who seems a bit dark?’
‘They are examined every day. By their fellow students. By everyone who sees them. This is a Christian nation, Dominee, and we obey the law.’
‘That is what I preach. But I also preach “Suffer the little children to—” ’
‘We don’t persecute little children. But we must keep serious priorities in mind.’
‘Such as?’
‘The moral welfare of every child in this school.’
After the meeting a grim-faced Dr. Sterk went to see the Van Valcks, and reported: ‘I’ve seen the Albertyns and there is foundation for your accusations. The vice-principal has also had his suspicions.’
‘That’s what we told you,’ Mrs. van Valck said smugly. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘I’ve asked the Albertyns to remove their daughter.’
‘And they refused?’
‘They have.’ There was a long pause, in which each of the three considered the inevitable next step, the one that would throw the community into turmoil. Twice Dr. Sterk made as if to speak, then thought better of it. In a matter of such gravity the decision must be made by the people involved, and he would wait upon them.
Finally Leopold van Valck asked in a low voice, ‘You want to kno
w whether we’re prepared to lodge formal charges?’
‘We are,’ his wife interrupted with great force. Having made the decision for all of them, she sat primly in her chair, hands folded, chin jutting out as if she were already bringing her testimony before the Race Classification Board.
Dr. Sterk felt that he was the only one in this mess who appreciated the terrible confrontation that threatened; only he foresaw the consequences, once this social avalanche was torn loose, and he wanted to give the Van Valcks time to consider. He said nothing, and in the silence Mr. van Valck might have wavered, except that his wife rose suddenly, smoothed down her dress, and said, ‘Well, that’s that. It is our job to inform Pretoria.’
‘You’re sure you want to?’ Dr. Sterk asked one last time.
‘We are,’ she said firmly, and next morning she went early to the Venloo post office to buy a money order for £10, which she carried to her husband’s office. He had been in since seven, preparing two affidavits detailing the grounds for their complaint. When she filled out the forms, she took them back to the post office and mailed them to the Director of Census in Pretoria. At home she told her husband, ‘I’ll be proved right. They’re trying to penetrate white society. And when the verdict’s in, I’ll get my ten pounds back.’ This deposit, the government believed, was required as an indication of good faith on the part of the accusers: ‘It stops malicious persons from bringing frivolous or vexatious complaints.’
A tornado broke over the school, for rumor quickly spread that Petra Albertyn was Coloured; her father was white enough, but her mother was Coloured, maybe even a Bantu, and the inquisition to which children are prone ensued. Two teachers, unusually mindful of the race laws, told the principal they did not wish to have any Coloured child in their classes, that to do so was not only illegal but also personally offensive. By midafternoon the school was polarized, a few older students and the two younger teachers defending Petra, the rest ostracizing her.
It was obvious to Dr. Sterk that such a situation could not be tolerated during the weeks it would require for a Race Classification Board to be appointed, so once more he drove out to the Albertyns’, imploring them, for the welfare of their daughter, to remove her from school. Mr. Albertyn, keenly aware of what could happen to his family if his daughter was declared Coloured, was disposed to comply, but his wife said, ‘No. If a cruel charge like this can be made against Petra this week, it can be made against others next week. Let’s settle this once and for all.’
But next day a deputation of parents stormed Sterk’s office, demanding that the girl be removed immediately. One was the wife of the sergeant at the Venloo police station, and her husband stepped forward: ‘Wouldn’t it be best for all if I drove Petratjie to her home?’ So Petra’s things were collected from the dormitory and placed in the sergeant’s car. On the way to Blinkfontein he said little, but he did offer her several of his extra-strong white peppermints: ‘Don’t worry, Petratjie. These things always work out for the best. You’ll be much happier with your own people.’
The Race Classification Board was appointed by Pretoria, for this was one of the early cases under the new regulations and it was important that precedents be established. The membership was curious: the chairman, Detleef van Doorn, the lawmaker, who had at one time or another headed every important local organization and was still head of the committee of the Paulus de Groot High School; Mr. Leopold van Valck, the magistrate, who in another country might have been disqualified as being partner to the litigation; and the Venloo dentist with the good English name of John Adams, to avoid charges that the commission was overloaded with Afrikaners judging their own special laws.
They met in one of the town’s two courtrooms and spent the first days taking testimony from any interested parties: teachers who had always suspected the child, playmates who might have observed suspicious behavior, village gossips interested in the Albertyns’ personal life. The intention was to learn whether their friends and others regarded them as white persons. The testimony was conclusive that they did.
But the vital evidence was taken on the third day, and the community watched grimly when a motorcar brought the Albertyns, including two older children, to be inspected visually by the three commissioners. This was all-important, for what the investigators were endeavoring to decide was whether the Albertyns as a whole were Coloured or not, and looking at them face-to-face was one of the best ways to judge.
The four Albertyns, lacking Petra, were lined up before the commissioners, who studied them minutely prior to questioning. Mr. van Valck, whose name meant falcon, rose from his chair behind the prosecutor’s table, where the commissioners sat, and suggested that they move onto the bench used by judges ‘so we can look more impressive.’
‘No,’ Detleef objected, ‘this is a simple family matter, so let’s handle it that way. Our job is to start sorting out our nation, putting everyone in his place. This wouldn’t have been necessary if the English had kept people properly separated, but once those first fatal steps of intermixing occurred, the damage was done. Now we must move back to an honest base.’
Detleef van Doorn began: ‘Who were your grandparents?’ He placed great store on lineage.
‘Have you any Coloured friends?’
‘What is your minister’s name? His initials?’
‘Is his church exclusively for whites?’
‘Are you and your husband registered as voters?’
‘Have your names ever been removed from a voters’ list?’ Here Magistrate van Valck interposed gravely: ‘Remember, you are under oath, and one false answer will put you in jail.’
‘Have you ever traveled in a train for Coloured persons?’
‘When you go on holiday, where do you stay? What hotel? Is it for whites?’
On and on, for three hours, the questioning went, inconclusively. The Albertyns seemed much like any other South African family, mostly Dutch, with a strong strain of German and perhaps a Huguenot ancestor far back. No English. Probably no Malay or Hottentot or Bantu.
Now the fascinating part of the investigation approached, when the commissioners actually inspected the bodies of the suspects. Each commissioner had his or her special clues for detecting Coloured blood, the result of rural superstitions. Mr. van Valck, coached by his wife, placed emphasis on freckles and ear lobes: ‘White people freckle. Coloureds don’t. It’s as simple as that.’ But when he examined the Albertyns, he found Mrs. Albertyn and one son with no freckles, Mr. Albertyn and the other son with a copious supply. ‘Now, with ear lobes,’ he explained to everyone in the room, ‘with whites, there’s an indentation. With Coloureds, there isn’t.’ But again the Albertyns divided two and two.
The dentist had heard that something about the half-moons at the base of fingernails furnished some clue to racial origin, but he could never remember what it was. He considered an investigation like this offensive but felt he had better go through the motions, so he carefully studied forty Albertyn fingernails, and said, ‘Hmmmmmm!’ The other two commissioners were relieved that he was taking his assignment seriously.
Van Doorn trusted only hair, especially on the backs of hands, where it could not be tampered with, as it often was on the head: ‘Hand hair that twists in a certain way.’ Eight Albertyn hands were carefully inspected, after which Detleef asked for a pencil, which relieved Mr. van Valck, since he placed considerable store in the pencil test. ‘We twist the hair over the ears tightly around this pencil,’ Van Doorn explained to the watchers, ‘and if the subject is white, it unravels quickly when the pencil is withdrawn. With blacks, as you know, it remains crinkled.’ Studying the pencil to see that the hair was properly drawn, he jerked the pencil away and watched with satisfaction as the hair responded. ‘You may sit down,’ he told the Albertyns.
Now came the time to investigate the little girl herself, the one who had technically committed the offense. Petra was brought into the room and told to face the interrogators, who went through the tedious busines
s of asking her profound questions when everyone knew that it would be the physical examination that counted.
Even so, little Petra responded with answers that were innocent and sometimes charming. Yes, she understood this was a serious business. Yes, she knew that if she were indeed Coloured, she would have to go to a school with her own people. Yes, she knew that every group had its own place in South Africa so that it could be happy. In fact, she knew a great deal and demonstrated the intelligence of which her teachers had spoken, even those who wanted her expelled.
‘Now, Petra, walk to the end of the room and back.’ It was clear to Mr. van Valck that she walked like a Coloured.
‘Now we come to the most important part.’ It was Mr. van Valck speaking in a rather conciliatory voice, for he was about to impose the one inspection that some people deemed foolproof. ‘Slip down your dress,’ he said as gently as he could.
So the little girl, shyly but with no fierce embarrassment, dropped her dress and then her petticoat until she stood practically naked before the commissioners. Since her breasts had not yet formed, she felt no need to cover them with her hands; nervously she twined her fingers over her flat stomach. ‘Drop your hands to your side, Petra, so we can see how you stand,’ Detleef said, and the commissioners examined her, paying special attention to the small triangle at the base of the spine, for as Mr. van Valck had assured them: ‘If that’s dark, you can be sure she has Bantu blood.’ Dr. Adams, ashamed of himself for participating in so ghastly a ritual, looked at the triangle and saw only the properly developing spine-tip of a little girl.
When the Albertyns, all five of them, were dismissed from the room, the commissioners excused Dr. Sterk and the two policemen and started their deliberations, and it became quickly evident that Mr. van Valck was determined to find the family Coloured, while Dr. Adams, a naturally sardonic type, would have none of it; indeed, he appeared to be contemptuous of the whole affair. The deciding vote would therefore be cast by Van Doorn, and he intended to be as just as Solomon.
‘I think we should begin our deliberations with prayer,’ he said in Afrikaans.
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