The Colour of Gold

by Oliver T Spedding

“Kays?” Bala asked.

  “Kilometres.” the boy said surprised at such ignorance.

  “Oh, thank you.” Bala said.

  Bala returned to Fatima and Salona.

  “Pageview is only about three kays from here.” he said. “Apparently a “kay” is a kilometer. We can easily get there before dark.”

  The little man picked up the heavy suitcase.

  “We have to go down that street, I think the boy said it was Rissik street, and then into Bree street.” he said.

  Bala turned to Fatima and smiled bravely.

  “Come along, my dearest,” he said, “We’ve managed the first step. Let’s hope that the next one is just as easy.”

  The family trudged slowly along the pavement until they reached Bree Street where they turned westward towards the setting sun. The traffic was still fairly heavy and there were a great many pedestrians who hurried past the slower trio occasionally bumping the suitcase in Bala’s hand. Each time this happened the Indian apologized profusely but nobody took any notice of him. They simply hurried on. Every now and then Bala stopped to rest and flex the fingers of the hand gripping the heavy case. Fatima walked patiently, slightly behind him and carrying Salona on her hip. The setting sun was blinding and the two females shielded their eyes with their hands. Bala stared at the pavement in front of him.

  “How will we know when we have reached Pageview?” Fatima asked.

  “The boy said it was the suburb after we cross the bridge over the railway line.” Bala said.

  The pedestrians and the traffic thinned noticeably and eventually, just as the sun slipped below the horizon the three wanderers walked into the dingy suburb of Pageview. The tiny brick and corrugated iron houses were packed tightly together and were so close to the pavement that one could step from the uneven sidewalk straight onto the front verandas of the small hovels.

  The little family wandered through the miserable suburb until they found Bala’s uncle’s house. The lawyer had instructed Bala to ask the neighbour who lived in the house on the left side for the keys.

  To Bala’s dismay the house was in darkness and there was no response when he knocked on the blue painted door.

  “We’ll just have to wait until he returns, my dear.” Bala said shrugging his thin shoulders.

  Just then a short, stocky Indian man came out of the next house. He looked inquiringly at Bala.

  “We’re the new owners of number twenty one.” Bala explained. “We’ve just arrived from Durban and we were told to get the keys from the owner of house number twenty three.”

  “You’re the late Mister Dinat’s nephew?” the man asked.

  Bala nodded and the man walked closer, extending his hand.

  “I’m Dajee Dhupelia.” he said “Mister Dinat was a wonderful man and a good friend of mine. We all miss him terribly. Come into my house. I live alone. You can wait for Mister Cajee there. He works for the railways and he usually only gets home at about ten o’clock.”

  “We don’t want to be a nuisance.” Bala said. “We can wait out here.”

  “Most definitely not!” Mister Dhupelia said. “I insist that you accept my invitation. No family of my good friend Mister Desai will wait outside my house. Please come in.”

  Bala lowered his head in gratitude and the three newcomers followed their host into his little house.

  After mister Dhupelia had settled his three guests in his tiny front room and brought them mugs of hot, sugared tea, he turned to Bala.

  “Have you been told that Pageview has been declared a white area under the Group Areas Act and that we Indians will all eventually have to leave here and go and live in the new Indian suburb called Lenasia which is about thirty kilometres from here and also move our businesses to the new Oriental Plaza?” he asked. “Most of our people have already been moved there.”

  Bala’s heart sank. Had he given up his job in Durban and come all the way up to Johannesburg just to find that the government was taking away his inheritance – his hope for a new and brighter future?

  “N-no.” he stammered.

  “In 1950 the government declared Pageview a “whites only” area even though we Indians have been living happily with our white neighbours for many years.” Mister Dhupelia said. “We have been ordered to move to the new Indian suburb of Lenasia which is just south of Soweto. There are no proper facilities such as electricity there yet and so we are fighting the government to allow us to stay here. We know that we can’t win in the long run but so far some of us have been able to resist and stay here. The houses in this street are the last few houses in Pageview still occupied by Indians. It's just a matter of time before we are forcibly moved.”

  “Does that mean that we will lose everything?” Bala asked.

  “No.” Mister Dhupelia replied. “The government has assured us that we will be compensated but we don’t trust them. This Lenasia is very far from where we all work and building a new house will be very expensive and difficult. We’re all determined to stay here for as long as we can and only move once we know that we have been adequately compensated, if that is possible.”

  Mister Dhupelia looked up as a shadowy figure past the front window.

  “Ah! Here is your neighbour Mister Cajee now.” he exclaimed.

  He hurried to the front door, opened it and called to his neighbour.

  “Mister Cajee! Mister Dinat’s nephew has arrived from Durban!”

  Mister Cajee was a tall, thin man who wore a red fez and had a full, grey beard in the manner of orthodox believers. He surveyed the three newcomers with sad, brown eyes. His bushy eyebrows rose in a look of surprise.

  “Such young people.” he said in a deep voice. “I don’t know why, but I was expecting someone older. Welcome though, to Jo’burg and to Pageview. I hope that you will find happiness here and that we will all become good friends.”

  Bala stood up and shook hands with Mister Cajee who towered above him. He introduced Fatima and Salona.

  Fatima rose from her seat and everyone looked at Salona expectantly but she was fast asleep, tucked into the corner of the settee, her empty mug resting in her lap with her rag doll.

  Mister Cajee smiled.

  “It’s very late and you must all be very tired after your long journey.” he said. “Come with me and I’ll give you the keys to your house.”

  Fatima carefully picked up the sleeping child and the group left the house. Mister Cajee hurried into his house and returned with a bunch of keys which he handed to Bala.

  Trembling with trepidation Bala unlocked the old blue-painted, wooden door and the little family entered their new home.

  CHAPTER 4

  The car stopped in front of the administration building. It was a single storey cream-coloured structure with a wide glass-fronted entrance and scalloped white gables on each side. The wooden window and door frames were painted white and a neat garden of brightly coloured flowers stretched from the entrance along the front of the building on both sides. A black gardener attended to the flowers, his tools and a green garden house lying on the smooth lawn next to him. Drops of water on the leaves and blooms sparkled in the early morning sunshine.

  The black driver got out of the car and opened the back door. Bogdan stepped out of the car while Julia waited, sitting in the front passenger’s seat. The low hum of the powerful electric motors that drove the huge hoists and air extractor fans that carried the miners up and down the mine shafts and kept the shafts adequately ventilated filled the air. Men in heavy, dirty overalls and wearing white hardhats with lights glowing on them walked along the street in small groups. The whole area was extremely neat and tidy.

  “Baas Moore’s office is in there.” the driver said pointing to the entrance to the building. “Just ask the receptionist to tell him that you’re here.”

  It was cool and dry in the reception area and the outside hum was replaced inside by the gentle purr of air conditioners. A young white woman sat busily typing behind a long, highly polished
wooden counter with the legend “Reception” above it. She looked up and raised her eyebrows inquisitively as Bogdan approached.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m Bogdan Vodnik. I’m here to see the mine manager, Mister Moore.” Bogdan said. “I’m going to be working here in the buying department.”

  “Oh, yes.” the receptionist said. “Mister Moore’s expecting you. His office is that one over there.”

  Bogdan walked to the office that the receptionist had indicated, knocked on the half-open door and walked in.

  The man seated behind the large wooden desk that had piles of documents scattered about its top, was dressed in a grey safari suit. His long face was smoothly shaven and the few strands of grey hair on the top of his head had been carefully combed across his gleaming pate as if to try and hide the fact that he was actually bald. He looked up from the document he had been reading and smiled.

  “Hello Mister Vodnik.” he said. “I heard you talking to Sally. Welcome to Deep Reef Gold Mine. I hope you’ll be happy here. I’m Gavin Moore.”

  The manager stood up and walked around the desk. The two men shook hands.

  “I’m sure that you are eager to get settled in so I won’t offer you tea or coffee.” Gavin Moore said. “Please call me Gavin. I don’t like to be too formal with my office staff. It’s different with the mining staff though. Let’s go and look at the house that you and your wife will be staying in.”

  The two men walked out to the waiting car and got into the back seat. Bogdan introduced Gavin Moore to Julia.

  “Go to house number twelve in Percy Murdock street.” Moore instructed the driver.

  The house was a typical mine house with plastered brick walls painted white and a sloping red corrugated iron roof. A wide veranda stretched across the front of the structure and on the left hand side was a garage with rickety wooden doors painted a dark brown. A large grey corrugated iron water tank on a concrete base stood on the other side of the house, its purpose being to collect rainwater as it drained off the roof of the house during the summer afternoon thunderstorms that were so typical on the Reef. The gutters, down pipes and window frames were painted white and the front door was the same colour as the garage doors. Bogdan guessed that the house must be at least fifty years old. Probably built in the early nineteen twenties, he thought.

  “It’s an old house,” Moore said, “but you’ll find it very comfortable. The furniture is also old but solid and practical. You’ll need to get yourselves cutlery, crockery and linen though. Open an account at the concession store near the compound. The electricity and water come from the mine so it’s free.”

  The three people climbed out of the car and entered the small house through the front door. The entrance passage ran straight through the house to the back door in the kitchen and all the other rooms led off from the passage. It was very dim inside the abode and Moore switched on the lights in the passage. The wooden floor creaked as they walked further down the passage. The wallpaper that covered the walls was decorated with a fine floral design and a pleasant mustiness filled the place. The lights hung in the centre of the rooms from intricate pressed metal ceilings.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to settle in.” the mine manager said. “I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes time. You’ll start work on Monday?”

  “Yes.” Bogdan replied. “Where is the buying office?”

  “It’s in the same building as my office.” Moore said. “See you on Monday then.”

  Bogdan and Julia began to inspect the house. As one entered the house through the front door, there was a large lounge on the right with the main bedroom on the left. Next to this bedroom was a smaller one and then came the bathroom followed by the kitchen. Next to the lounge was the dining room followed by a large scullery. The back yard was enclosed by corrugated iron fencing with a washing line and a small storage shed.

  The furniture in the house was all about the same age as the house – heavy wooden tables and chairs with ball-and-claw feet in the dining room, large overstuffed chairs and a settee in the lounge and a wooden double bed in the main bedroom. The bathroom contained an old free-standing enamel tub and two basins with mirrors attached to the wall. In the kitchen, a magnificent iron and brass coal stove with a black chimney running up through the ceiling stood in one corner. A more modern electric stove stood beside it. A large white fridge and a chest freezer stood against one wall. A white marble shelf with varnished wooden cupboards below it ran along the opposite wall. Despite its age the little house had a comfortable homely quaintness about it.

  “I’m going to love staying here.” Julia said. “We need cutlery, crockery and linen and food. Let’s make up a list of all the things that we need. But where are we going to buy them and with what?”

  “Mister Moore said that we can open an account at the concession store near the black miner’s quarters.” Bogdan said.

  “Concession store?” Julia asked.

  “Yes. It’s a shop on the mine premises that keeps just about everything.” Bogdan said. “Food, bicycles, furniture, radios, cutlery, crockery – you name it, they’ve got it. The owner of the store has to bid for the right to use the building and sell his goods. That’s why it’s called a ‘concession’ store. Anyway, let’s get the list drawn up so that we can buy what we need and start living properly. I’ve got a feeling that we're going to do very well here.”

  "What about a domestic servant?" Julia asked. "After all, most white households in South Africa have a domestic maid to do the washing and ironing, clean the house and sometimes even do the cooking of meals."

  "Yes." Bogdan said. "From what I've heard most of the domestic maids up here on the Reef don't have permission to live and work here so they are prepared to work for very low wages. They're also very honest and reliable and don't cause any trouble. They know that their employers can very easily have them sent back to the homelands where there's no work if they cause trouble. Apparently a lot of them do indulge in petty theft though, stealing small amounts of sugar, tea, coffee and that sort of thing but they very seldom steal anything of value like jewellery or money. Not having a "pass" for this area makes them very vulnerable and most homeowners take advantage of this."

  "How do we find one?" Julia asked.

  "I don't think we'll have to find one." Bogdan said. "As soon as the word spreads that we are new in the area the women will come to us looking for work."

  "Can we choose one together?" Julia asked. "I wouldn't know which one to choose."

  "From what I've heard there are certain things that we need to take into account when choosing a domestic." Bogdan said. "Obviously, they must know how to do the washing and ironing and keep the house clean. Then they should not have permission to live and work here. That's very important. As long as they know that we can have them sent back to the homelands if they give us any trouble they'll work hard. And finally, they must be clean and have a good knowledge of what cleanliness and neatness is. As they'll be spending a lot of time in our house and possibly even doing some cooking for us this is very important. We must also make sure they know how to work the machines like the vacuum cleaner, the washing machine and the stove properly."

  "If they show up here what should I tell them?" Julia asked.

  "Tell them to come back at five o'clock in the afternoon." Bogdan said. "I'll come home straight from work and we can interview them together."

  The following day, while Julia was unpacking the items that she and Bogdan had bought at the concession store, she glanced out of the lounge window and noticed three black women sitting patiently on the pavement in front of the house. She went outside.

  "Why are you sitting here?" she asked.

  "We are looking for work, madam." one of the women, a tall well-dressed woman in her early twenties replied. "We heard that you and the baas were new here and might want a domestic maid. We all have experience in housework."

  "You must come back at five o'clock this afternoon whe
n my husband is here." Julia said. "Then we will interview you."

  "Thank you, madam." the tall woman said. "We will come back at five o'clock."

  When Bogdan arrived at the house just after five that afternoon there were four black women waiting on the pavement. He went into the house.

  "You were right." Julia said, pointing the women on the pavement. "Those are all women looking for work."

  "Let's go and talk to them." Bogdan said.

  As Bogdan and Julia walked out to the pavement the four women stood up.

  "Do all of you know how to wash and iron clothes and keep the house clean?" Bogdan asked.

  "Yes, baas." the women replied.

  Bogdan studies the four women. The young well-dressed woman who had earlier spoken to Julia attracted his attention. Apart from being well dressed she also looked clean and neat and appeared to be well educated. Two of the other women were older than the first woman and had their faces smeared with ash, a tradition followed by some African tribes in the country, and this put both Bogdan and Julia off. The fourth woman was also neatly dressed but Bogdan could see that she had a slightly surly attitude that was likely to create problems. He motioned to the younger woman.

  "Come with us." he said. "We want to talk to you in private."

  The woman followed the two white people through the house into the kitchen.

  "What's your name?" Bogdan asked.

  "Catherine." the woman replied.

  "Do you have any references?"

  "No. Employers don't like to give us references because if the police find them they can charge the employer with hiring an illegal person." Catherine replied.

  "So you don't have a "pass" to work here." Bogdan said.

  "No." Catherine replied. "But I'm a good and neat worker and because I don't have a pass I won't give you any trouble."

  "Why did you leave your last job?" Julia asked.

  "The people that I was working for moved away." Catherine replied.

  Bogdan studied the woman. She was very attractive with large brown eyes, a slim delicate nose and lips that turned up slightly at the corners. When she smiled she showed small clean white teeth. Her hair was covered with a colourful scarf and she wore a white blouse and a dark blue skirt, her breasts pushed enticingly against her blouse and the rest of her body was slim and well proportioned. Her voice had an attractive husky tone.