A Blade of Grass by Lewis DeSoto Page A

from Tembi and holds it aloft. The head is a bloody pulp. He brings it to Märit. “Dead,” he says.
    Märit turns her head away.
    “Quite a specimen,” Ben says. “Must be at least five feet long. The skin could make you a nice purse.”
    Märit shakes her head. “Take it away,” she says through clenched teeth. “Burn it!”
    Ben jerks his head at Joshua, who retreats to the truck with the snake.
    “All right now, darling?” Ben slips his arm around her shoulders and squeezes. “Nothing more to worry about. That Tembi is a brave girl. She had the thing dead already when I went in. A very brave girl.”
    Märit nods. She feels nauseated. “Did you make sure there wasn’t another one around? They travel in pairs, don’t they?”
    “That’s an old wives’ tale,” Ben says. “Yes, I did check, there’s nothing. Why don’t you go in and have a strong cup of tea—you look like you need one.”
    “What about you? Don’t you want to come in?”
    Ben looks at his watch. “Ah, the thing is, I have to drive into Klipspring. We’ve got to get some bags of potash; I want to do the fertilizing before dark. Do you want to come with me? You could have your tea at the hotel, do a bit of shopping.”
    “No. No, I think I’ll stay here.”
    “Well, I have to get going. Don’t worry, darling. It’s just one of the little travails of living in the country—snakes and bugs and that sort of thing.” He kisses her on the cheek, then gets into the truck where the two men are in the back, talking excitedly, holding the snake between them.
    And she is left alone.
    The tension in her body breaks; she sinks to her knees on the lawn. A trickle of hot liquid on her inner thigh, then a stream, and the urine pours down between her legs, splashing on the grass. She wants to lie down, right on the lawn, and curl up. But Tembi is there, urging her to her feet, grasping and tugging her arm.
    “Come, Missus. Come inside.”
    Märit rises, dabbing at her legs with the edge of her soaked dress. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs.
    “Come inside now, Missus. You can wash. I will make you tea.”
    In the bathroom Märit pulls off all her clothes and bundles them into thebathtub. She wipes herself down with a damp washcloth, then goes through to the bedroom and finds clean clothes.
    Tembi is brewing tea in the kitchen, in the African way, very strong, each cup with an added dollop of tinned condensed milk she has found in one of the cupboards.
    Märit comes in and says, “We can have it in the living room. Bring your cup.”
    Tembi follows, into this unknown part of the house.
    “Sit with me,” Märit says, as Tembi diffidently stands near the door with her cup in her hand. “Here.” She pats the couch. She finds her cigarettes and lights one, drawing gratefully at the smoke. “Look at my hand, it’s still shaking. God, I hate snakes.”
    “You were frightened.”
    “Terrified. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”
    “A mamba is a dangerous snake. We always kill them. These snakes are bad.” She reaches for her tea and sips.
    “I peed myself out of fright. What must you think of me?”
    “I was frightened also.”
    “You? Hardly. You just marched straight in there and killed the snake.”
    “I saw it on the floor and I hit it. But I was very frightened. I don’t like snakes.”
    “You were my savior, Tembi. Honestly. And I’m sure the men were very impressed.”
    Tembi looks down at her cup. “I was frightened.” She sighs as a tremor quivers through her.
    Märit smokes in silence, calm now. After a moment she says, “Tembi.”
    “Yes, Missus.” The shy smile again. “Yes?”
    “I’m sorry about your mother. About what happened. The accident.”
    Tembi nods her head gravely.
    “Where is your father now?”
    “He has gone back to the city. To his job in the mines.”
    “Have you any brothers and sisters?”
    “I am alone.”
    “I lost my parents too, you know. I am also