by Irma Joubert
The name of the store was John Orr’s, she read on the big sign.
“That’s English too,” the lady said.
Her new mommy bought and bought: frilly panties Gretl had never seen the likes of, white socks with lace at the top, shiny black shoes that fastened with a strap, white shoes decorated with a bow for church, and sandals with red, yellow, and green straps.
“Why don’t you keep them on?” said the lady. The sandals were so pretty that Gretl couldn’t stop looking at her feet.
They took the escalator to the top floor, where the dresses were. Gretl grabbed hold of the lady’s hand. It was her first time on an escalator, but she wasn’t afraid, just careful. At the top she took an enormous leap. She didn’t want the escalator to suck in her new sandals.
Walking by the lady’s side, holding her hand, Gretl thought that they looked like a real mother and daughter. “I’m going to call you Mommy,” she said.
The lady stopped in the middle of the shop floor, knelt, and hugged Gretl tightly. “It would be wonderful if you would call me Mommy, Grietjie, because you’re my little girl now.” She kissed Gretl on both eyelids.
They bought so many dresses that Gretl became confused: strappy dresses, because it was very hot on the farm, dresses that tied with a big bow at the back for church, dresses with puffed sleeves, fly-away sleeves, and long sleeves for when it was cold. Also shorts like the ones boys wore and blouses. They bought nightgowns and a robe and bedroom slippers, they bought ribbons and hairpins and two small hats for church. How they laughed at some of those hats! They even bought white gloves and a little handbag. When they had finished, they were exhausted.
Gretl wore her new red dress because it went with the sandals. They went to a tearoom in the store, and Mommy read the menu out loud so that Gretl could choose what she wanted to eat. But she was too excited to eat. She was just very thirsty.
A black man came to fetch them in Grandpa John’s big black car. Gretl and Mommy sat together in the back. At Grandpa John’s house they took all their parcels to Gretl’s bedroom. Aunt Nellie came to look at everything they’d bought and clapped her hands together. After a while Grandpa John came too. He put his arm around Mommy’s shoulders and asked, “Are you happy, Kate?”
“Very happy.” She laid her cheek against his.
They all love each other, Gretl thought, amazed. They don’t argue. It seemed so strange.
They were speaking about her. “What is Grandpa John saying?” Gretl asked.
The two grown-ups laughed. “He said you look like my mother,” said Mommy. “Her name was Ouma Susan. She also had curly blonde hair and blue eyes. And she was small, just like you.”
“Where is she?” Gretl asked.
“She died, Grietjie. A few months ago.”
Gretl nodded. Now she knew why Grandpa John listened to music at night. Nights are when you miss someone most, she thought.
They put all the clothes away in the new suitcase, everything except the nightclothes and an outfit for the next day. The red coat with the little cross in its pocket went into the suitcase as well.
When they tucked the blankets around her late that evening, Gretl said in Afrikaans, “Good night, Daddy. Good night, Mommy. Sleep tight.”
“Good night, Grietjie, sleep tight,” said Daddy and kissed her forehead.
But in the night she took her cross out of the suitcase and held it in her hand. She was afraid her nightmares would return, and Jakób was very far away.
They set off early the next morning because it was a long way to the farm. Aunt Nellie had packed a picnic basket, and they stopped under a tree to eat. The land was completely flat and parched and hot. “This is called the Springbok Flats,” said Mommy. “Once we’ve crossed it, we’ll be in the bushveld, where we live.”
Gretl sat up straight in the backseat, trying to take in everything she saw. South Africa wasn’t a bit like the pictures in the library book she and Jakób had looked at.
It was almost noon when Mommy said, “Here we are in our hometown. Look, Grietjie, this is our church.” She pointed at a white building with a tall spire. “This is our store.” Gretl read the sign: Cohen Crown General Dealer. Farther along, she read Northern Transvaal Co-op and on the corner Boere Koffiehuis, which her mommy told her meant Farmers’ Coffee Shop.
One street block farther Mommy said, “This is the school.”
Gretl took a good look at the red-brick building with the long veranda and row of classrooms, much like the ghetto school before it burned down, and the convent school in Poland, and the German school she had briefly attended. But around this school there was no green grass, only bare earth. In front of the building grew a single gray tree with unhappy leaves.
“That’s a pepper tree,” Daddy said.
She tried to think of the Afrikaans words, but it was too hard, so she asked in German, “Does the brother also go to this school?”
“No,” said Mommy, “Kobus is in standard six. The high school where he’s a boarder is in a bigger town.”
She didn’t understand all of it, but she didn’t want to seem stupid, so she said nothing further.
On the outskirts of the town Daddy pointed to the left. “There’s the station.” They stopped at the tracks to see if there were any trains, then drove bumpity-bump across. She didn’t look at the station. There was a three-week ocean between her and Poland now.
A short distance out of town they turned onto a gravel road and drove through a gate and across an iron grille in the road. “This is where our farm begins, Grietjie,” said Daddy.
The farm looked completely different from Jakób’s. It was dry and the grass was brown. She couldn’t imagine what the poor goats and ducks were supposed to eat. They crossed a bridge, but the river had no water. She saw a circular stone wall with cattle inside. She still hadn’t seen any goats. On one side of the property was a rough mountain with big rocks instead of familiar rolling hills. The school was very far away. She would never be able to walk there. She felt her tummy contract again.
“How will I get to school?” she asked.
“I’ll take you, my sweetheart, in the car,” said Mommy. “But we’ll wait until you understand a little more Afrikaans before we take you to school.”
“Almost there,” said Daddy. She understood what he was saying. “Look, there’s the house. Over there, on the mountainside.”
Gretl looked. She saw a big stone house with a wide veranda. “It’s sehr schön,” she said.
“Very lovely,” said Mommy.
“Very lovely.” Her lips and tongue wrapped around the strange words.
They stopped in front of the veranda. A big boy jumped over all the steps, landing at the bottom. He looked just like Daddy. Gretl opened the door to get out, and two large dogs came bounding around the corner—dogs that could bite, like the ghetto’s guard dogs. She went ice-cold with fear.
Mommy went to the big boy and hugged him tightly. Daddy saw Gretl was afraid. He picked her up in his strong arms and held her out of the dogs’ reach. She clung to him, drawing up her feet.
“Kobus, hold the dogs,” he said. “I don’t think Grietjie likes dogs.”
He carried her inside, but when she still clung to him, he didn’t put her down. “Never mind them, Grietjie,” he said. “They’re big, but they won’t do anything. Close the door, Kobus.”
Daddy carried her through a room with armchairs and a sofa, a low table, and a cabinet full of pretty things. They entered a room with a long table and many chairs. Against the wall was a cupboard with a big mirror, and in the corner stood a piano.
Only then did Daddy pu
t her down.
Mommy put an arm around Gretl’s shoulders. “Kobus, this is your sister, Grietjie,” she said.
“Yes, Mom. Mom, she’s tiny, Mom,” said her new brother.
Their parents laughed. “You’ll have to mind what you say,” said Daddy. “She understands every word.”
Gretl looked her brother in the eye, held out her hand, and said, “Good afternoon, Kobus.”
He looked surprised, but he shook her hand and said, “Afternoon.” To their daddy he said, “Dad, she’s funny, Dad.”
Daddy’s eyes twinkled. “She’s precious—just lovely,” he said. “I don’t think much will get her down.”
“Nur der Hund,” said Gretl.
Surprised, her daddy laughed again. “See?” he said. He turned to her. “You’ll soon make friends with the dogs, wait and see.”
A black woman entered. She wore a long black dress and a white headscarf. Gretl thought she looked like the Black Madonna in the monastery at Częstochowa. She was happy to know there was someone watching over this house as well.
“Grietjie, this is Maria,” said Mommy.
“I know,” said Gretl. “She is ein Engel.”
Her mommy looked surprised. “Ye-es, I suppose so,” she said with a slow smile. “Look, she’s brought us some cold ginger beer.”
The black madonna put the tray on the table.
“Good afternoon, Maria,” said Gretl.
“Shame, the little creature is just skin and bones.” The madonna clicked her tongue. “She looks sick.” She turned to Gretl. “I’ll call you Missy.”
“She won’t understand everything you say, Maria,” said Mommy. “Bring some orange squash as well. I don’t know whether she’ll like the ginger beer.”
“We must feed her milk,” said the madonna and went back to the kitchen.
Kobus was furtively watching Gretl, but she gazed at him openly. His feet were big and dusty, his clothes too. He didn’t sit on a chair but stood as he sipped his ginger beer. His eyes were blue. He could have been her real brother, except for his size. “Come, I’ll show you the calves,” he said.
“I think we should show her her bedroom first,” Mommy said hesitantly. “Maybe she’d like to—”
“I think she’ll enjoy seeing the calves,” Daddy decided. “I’ll shut the dogs in.”
Gretl walked across the farmyard with her new brother. “Do you know what calves are?” Kobus asked.
She shook her head.
“They’re baby cattle.”
“Oh,” she said.
He opened a gate but stopped her. “Take off your sandals,” he said, pointing at her feet, “they’ll get dirty.”
She took off her new shoes and he closed the gate behind her. The calves came trotting up to them.
“Ach, sie sind very pretty!” She stroked their heads. They had gentle eyes and wet noses.
“Here, hold out your hand and they’ll suck on it,” he said. He took her hand and held it out to a calf.
She laughed when the calf licked her with his rough tongue. The calves pushed and shoved to get to her.
“You can help feed them later this afternoon,” Kobus said. “It’s too early now.”
“Wipe your feet on the grass,” he said when they left. “There’s dung between your toes.”
As they walked back to the house, she was dying to tell him about Bruni with the lovely eyes and Rosie, who refused to stand still to be milked.
“Here’s the pantry,” said Kobus. “Look, that’s the fridge.” He opened the door of a cabinet that was cold inside and filled with jugs of milk. The pantry shelves were stocked with bottles and tins. There was a lot of food, honey as well, and an entire bag of sugar.
“It’s nice,” she said.
The front room was filled with people. Gretl stopped in the entryway.
“Come to me, Grietjie,” said Mommy in German. “These people have all come to see you.”
“My feet are dirty,” she protested.
Mommy reached for Gretl’s hand and smiled. “Come, say hello,” she said. “This is Auntie Lovey. She and her family live on the farm as well.”
A sweaty lady stepped forward, picked up Gretl, and hugged her tightly. Then she kissed her on the lips. “Shame, poor little orphan,” she said, sniffing loudly. She turned to the thin man beside her. “This is Oom Doorsie. Say hello to Oom Doorsie.”
Oom Doorsie was an old man with a prickly beard and yellow fingers. He hugged Gretl and kissed her on the lips. “She’s very pale, isn’t she?”
Gretl felt shivers go down her spine. She tried to pull away. If only she could stand on her feet, she would look them in the eye and hold out her hand to greet them. But the man was clutching her too tightly.
“I think she’d prefer to stand on her own, Doorsie,” said Mommy, saving her from the man. Gretl clung to her mother’s hand. “These are Oom Doorsie and Auntie Lovey’s children: Boetie”—smack on her lips—“and Doorsie”—smack—“and Sis”—another wet kiss—“and Mattie . . .”
“I don’t want to kiss them!” she protested in German.
“Turn your cheek,” said Mommy, also in German. “Kissing is an Afrikaner custom that I also found strange at first.”
Gretl realized that she and her mommy could speak German and the people wouldn’t understand. It made her feel smart.
She raised her chin. “Good afternoon, Mattie,” she said and held out her hand.
Mattie was a bit taller than she. He looked at her with vacant eyes. “Say hello to the girl, where are your manners?” Auntie Lovey scolded him.
“Afternoon,” mumbled Mattie.
She met the rest of the Pypers family—Baby and Susie and Tiny—but she didn’t kiss any of them. She fled to the kitchen.
“Sie haben mich geküßt!” she told Kobus, who had been drinking milk and had a white moustache on his upper lip.
“I can’t stand being kissed!” he declared. “Want some milk?”
Her room had a big bed with a blue bedspread scattered with butterflies. There were butterflies on the curtains too. She had her own closet with lots of space for her clothes. There was also a dressing table with ruffles around it in the same butterfly fabric and a little stool to sit on.
On the night table next to the bed was a Bible. She picked it up and ran her hand across the cover. “It’s German!” She was so surprised that she cried out in German.
Next to the Bible she saw a candle and a box of matches. “Do you know how a candle works?” asked her mommy.
“Yes.”
“You have to say, ’Yes, Mommy.’ Do you understand, Grietjie?”
“Okay.” She kept forgetting.
“We have a generator that gives us light in the evenings, but when we go to bed, Daddy turns it off. During the night you must light a candle. Are you afraid of the dark?”
“No, I’m not afraid of anything, except the dogs,” she said.
“The dogs sleep outside. They look after us,” Mommy said.
A blanket soft as a baby goat’s skin lay on her bed. “It’s your comfort blanket,” said Mommy. “When I was small I also had one. When you’re alone or feel cold during the night, you can hug the blanky in your arms.”
“Thank you,” she said in Afrikaans.
They put all her things away in the closet, set the pink facecloth Onkel Schalk had given her in the bathroom, put her toothbrush in a mug, and hung each of her dresses on an individual clothes hanger. She couldn’t believe she had so many
things of her own.
When Mommy wasn’t looking, she put her little wooden cross under her pillow. She would have to find a safe place for it so that Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t be angry if they discovered it.
After supper Daddy said, “Grietjie, fetch the Bible.”
Mommy showed her where the Bible lay in the cabinet under the big mirror. She placed it in front of her daddy. He opened the heavy Bible and looked at her. “Is there a passage you would like us to read, Grietjie?” he asked.
She understood what he was asking and thought for a moment. She remembered Sister Margaret reading about Ruth and Naomi. Sister Margaret hadn’t always lived in Poland. She had come from Ireland because God had told her the children and the church in Poland needed her. She had shown Gretl in the atlas where Ireland was. Like Ruth, Sister Margaret had said, “Your people will be my people.”
That day Gretl had known that God sent her to Poland as well, that Jakób’s country had become her country, Sister Margaret’s God her God. She realized then that Sister Margaret’s God was sometimes the same God as Oma’s, but not always. And she had to choose. If she wanted to speak to Lieber Herr Jesus or the Holy Mother of God, it was a different God from the one who lived in the synagogue. It was confusing. She couldn’t ask Sister Margaret about the Jewish God, and she couldn’t ask Jakób either, because at the time he had been working in Katowice. That day she had decided to choose the convent sisters’ God as her God.
Now God had sent her to South Africa because there was milk and honey. The country was hard and strange, the language was rough and different, and the church called different things sinful, but Gretl thought that God was still the same.
She spoke to her mommy in German. “The part where Ruth says, ’Your people are my people.’ That story.”
Her father’s eyes grew shiny and he said in a thick voice, “Grietjie, come and sit on Daddy’s knee.”
She climbed onto his knee. One big hand encircled her waist, the other lay on the table next to the Bible. He read. She didn’t know the words, but she could hear that the story in the Afrikaans Bible was the same one Sister Margaret had read to them in the Polish convent.