Read Online This Was the Old Chief's Country by Doris Lessing - Free Book Online Page A

with such a family.’
    â€˜Nobody can afford to have me either,’ said Van Heerden sullenly.
    â€˜How can I have you living on my place in such a fashion? Nine children! They should be at school. Didn’t you know there is a law to make them go to school? Hasn’t anybody been to see you about them?’
    â€˜They haven’t got me yet. They won’t get me unless someone tells them.’
    Against this challenge, which was also an unwilling appeal, Major Carruthers remained silent, until he said brusquely: ‘Remember, I’m not responsible.’ And he walked off, with all the appearance of anger.
    Van Heerden looked after him, his face puzzled. He did not know whether or not he had been dismissed. After a few moments he moistened his dry lips with his tongue, wiped his hand again over his eyes, and turned back to the ox. Looking over his shoulder from the edge of the field, Major Carruthers could see his wiry, stocky figure leaping and bending about the ox whose bellowing made the whole farm ring with anger.
    Major Carruthers decided, once and for all, to put the family out of his mind. But they haunted him; he even dreamed of them; and he could not determine whether it was his own or the Dutchman’s children who filled his sleep with fear.
    It was a very busy time of the year. Harassed, like all his fellow-farmers, by labour difficulties, apportioning out the farm tasks was a daily problem. All day his mind churned slowly over the necessities: this fencing was urgent, that field must be reaped at once. Yet, in spite of this, he decided it was his duty to build a second hut beside the first. It would do no more than take the edge off the discomfort of that miserable family, but he knew he could not rest until it was built.
    Just as he had made up his mind and was wondering how the thing could be managed, the bossboy came to him, saying that unless the Dutchman went, he and his friends would leave the farm.
    â€˜Why?’ asked Major Carruthers, knowing what the answer would be. Van Heerden was a hard worker, and the cattle were improving week by week under his care, but he could not handle natives. He shouted at them, lost his temper, treated them like dogs. There was continual friction.
    â€˜Dutchmen are no good,’ said the bossboy simply, voicing the hatred of the black man for that section of the white people he considers his most brutal oppressors.
    Now, Major Carruthers was proud that at a time when most farmers were forced to buy labour from the contractors, he was able to attract sufficient voluntary labour to run his farm. He was a good employer, proud of his reputation for fair dealing. Many of his natives had been with him for years, taking a few months off occasionally for a rest in their kraals, but always returning to him. His neighbours were complaining of the sullen attitude of their labourers: so far Major Carruthers had kept this side of that form of passive resistance which could ruin a farmer. It was walking on a knife-edge, but his simple human relationship with his workers was his greatest asset as a farmer, and he knew it.
    He stood and thought, while his bossboy, who had been on this farm twelve years, waited for a reply. A great deal was at stake. For a moment Major Carruthers thought of dismissing the Dutchman; he realized he could not bring himself to do it: what would happen to all those children? He decided on a course which was repugnant to him. He was going to appeal to his employee’s pity.
    â€˜I have always treated you square?’ he asked. ‘I’ve always helped you when you were in trouble?’
    The bossboy immediately and warmly assented.
    â€˜You know that my wife is ill, and that I’m having a lot of trouble just now. I don’t want the Dutchman to go, just now when the work is so heavy. I’ll speak to him, and if there is any more trouble with the men, then come to me and I’ll deal with it myself.’
    It