Read Online This Was the Old Chief's Country by Doris Lessing - Free Book Online
Authors: Doris Lessing
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trying to imagine what it must be to live in such squalor.
Fear rose high in him. For a few moments he inhabited the landscape of his dreams, a grey country full of sucking menace, where he suffered what he would not allow himself to think of while awake: the grim poverty that could overtake him if his luck did not turn, and if he refused to submit to his brother and return to England.
Walking through the fields, where the maize was now waving over his head, pale gold with a froth of white, the sharp dead leaves scything crisply against the wind, he could see nothing but that black foetid hut and the pathetic futureless children. That was the lowest he could bring his own children to! He felt moorless, helpless, afraid: his sweat ran cold on him. And he did not hesitate in his mind; driven by fear and anger, he told himself to be hard; he was searching in his mind for the words with which he would dismiss the Dutchman who had broughthis worst nightmares to life, on his own farm, in glaring daylight, where they were inescapable.
He found him with a screaming rearing young ox that was being broken to the plough, handling it with his sure understanding of animals. At a cautious distance stood the natives who were assisting; but Van Heerden, fearless and purposeful, was fighting the beast at close range. He saw Major Carruthers, let go the plunging horn he held, and the ox shot away backwards, roaring with anger, into the crowd of natives, who gathered loosely about it with sticks and stones to prevent it running away altogether.
Van Heerden stood still, wiping the sweat off his face, still grinning with the satisfaction of the fight, waiting for his employer to speak.
âVan Heerden,â said Major Carruthers, without preliminaries, âwhy didnât you tell me you had a family?â
As he spoke the Dutchmanâs face changed, first flushing into guilt, then setting hard and stubborn. âBecause Iâve been out of work for a year, and I knew you would not take me if I told you.â
The two men faced each other, Major Carruthers tall, flyaway, shambling, bent with responsibility; Van Heerden stiff and defiant. The natives remained about the ox, to prevent its escape â for them this was a brief intermission in the real work of the farm â and their shouts mingled with the incessant bellowing. It was a hot day; Van Heerden wiped the sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand.
âYou canât keep a wife and all those children here â how many children?â
âNine.â
Major Carruthers thought of his own two, and his perpetual dull ache of worry over them; and his heart became grieved for Van Heerden. Two children, with all the trouble over everything they ate and wore and thought, and what would become of them, were too great a burden; how did this man, with nine, manage to look so young?
âHow old are you?â he asked abruptly, in a different tone.
âThirty-four,â said Van Heerden, suspiciously, unable to understand the direction Major Carruthers followed.
The only marks on his face were sun-creases; it was impossible to think of him as the father of nine children and the husband of that terrible broken-down woman. As Major Carruthers gazed at him, he became conscious of the strained lines on his own face, and tried to loosen himself, because he took so badly what this man bore so well.
âYou canât keep a wife and children in such conditions.â
âWe were living in a tent in the bush on mealie meal and what I shot for nine months, and that was through the wet season,â said Van Heerden drily.
Major Carruthers knew he was beaten. âYouâve put me in a false position, Van Heerden,â he said angrily. âYou know I canât afford to give you more money. I donât know where Iâm going to find my own childrenâs school fees, as it is. I told you the position when you came. I canât afford to keep a man
Fear rose high in him. For a few moments he inhabited the landscape of his dreams, a grey country full of sucking menace, where he suffered what he would not allow himself to think of while awake: the grim poverty that could overtake him if his luck did not turn, and if he refused to submit to his brother and return to England.
Walking through the fields, where the maize was now waving over his head, pale gold with a froth of white, the sharp dead leaves scything crisply against the wind, he could see nothing but that black foetid hut and the pathetic futureless children. That was the lowest he could bring his own children to! He felt moorless, helpless, afraid: his sweat ran cold on him. And he did not hesitate in his mind; driven by fear and anger, he told himself to be hard; he was searching in his mind for the words with which he would dismiss the Dutchman who had broughthis worst nightmares to life, on his own farm, in glaring daylight, where they were inescapable.
He found him with a screaming rearing young ox that was being broken to the plough, handling it with his sure understanding of animals. At a cautious distance stood the natives who were assisting; but Van Heerden, fearless and purposeful, was fighting the beast at close range. He saw Major Carruthers, let go the plunging horn he held, and the ox shot away backwards, roaring with anger, into the crowd of natives, who gathered loosely about it with sticks and stones to prevent it running away altogether.
Van Heerden stood still, wiping the sweat off his face, still grinning with the satisfaction of the fight, waiting for his employer to speak.
âVan Heerden,â said Major Carruthers, without preliminaries, âwhy didnât you tell me you had a family?â
As he spoke the Dutchmanâs face changed, first flushing into guilt, then setting hard and stubborn. âBecause Iâve been out of work for a year, and I knew you would not take me if I told you.â
The two men faced each other, Major Carruthers tall, flyaway, shambling, bent with responsibility; Van Heerden stiff and defiant. The natives remained about the ox, to prevent its escape â for them this was a brief intermission in the real work of the farm â and their shouts mingled with the incessant bellowing. It was a hot day; Van Heerden wiped the sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand.
âYou canât keep a wife and all those children here â how many children?â
âNine.â
Major Carruthers thought of his own two, and his perpetual dull ache of worry over them; and his heart became grieved for Van Heerden. Two children, with all the trouble over everything they ate and wore and thought, and what would become of them, were too great a burden; how did this man, with nine, manage to look so young?
âHow old are you?â he asked abruptly, in a different tone.
âThirty-four,â said Van Heerden, suspiciously, unable to understand the direction Major Carruthers followed.
The only marks on his face were sun-creases; it was impossible to think of him as the father of nine children and the husband of that terrible broken-down woman. As Major Carruthers gazed at him, he became conscious of the strained lines on his own face, and tried to loosen himself, because he took so badly what this man bore so well.
âYou canât keep a wife and children in such conditions.â
âWe were living in a tent in the bush on mealie meal and what I shot for nine months, and that was through the wet season,â said Van Heerden drily.
Major Carruthers knew he was beaten. âYouâve put me in a false position, Van Heerden,â he said angrily. âYou know I canât afford to give you more money. I donât know where Iâm going to find my own childrenâs school fees, as it is. I told you the position when you came. I canât afford to keep a man
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