Niekerk was largely kept busy with her twin babies.
Usually Meneer van Niekerk left home early, before Mama and Rosa had arrived, and returned after they had left. Mama never took Rosa with her on Saturdays and Sundays. When Rosa was old enough to ask why, Mama had explained that Hennie’s father “liked quiet.” Rosa told Mama that she and Hennie could be very quiet. They could play all day in the donga. Mama had said that Hennie’s father wouldn’t like that. The few times Rosa had seen him, he had never smiled. Rosa decided she would not like to see him angry. Hennie had told her about his father’s belt. How he had beaten him with it one evening after tripping over a rope the children had tied between two paw-paw trees to practice jumping.
“I didn’t tell on you,” Hennie had told her, showing her the marks on the back of his legs with some pride. “And Ma didn’t tell him!”
“What would your daddy do to me?” Rosa had asked.
Hennie had answered by sharply sucking in his breath as he pulled back his lips to show his teeth. Rosa felt her skin tingle as they began to collect dry grass to make a roof for the new house they were making.
Their playing together had come to a sudden end when one day Meneer van Niekerk came home early. The two of them were dashing under the sprinkler, shrieking and pulling funny faces for the twins, who were sitting up in their pram and gurgling, when Hennie’s father strode across the lawn. Like a thunderstorm he swept Hennie up with one arm and began to smack him on the bottom with the flat of his other hand. Hennie’s cries of laughter turned to cries of pain.
“ Wat makeer jy? What do you think you’re doing? Running around like a savage? Half-naked with this piccanin ?”
The words had slapped Rosa too. Mevrou van Niekerk and Mama had both come running from the house.
“Is this how you’re letting him grow? It’s time he learnt to be a proper boy—and to know he’s a white boy!”
Rosa saw Mama’s shoulders rise ever so slightly.Mama had taken Rosa silently by the hand and led her away. Above Hennie’s sobs and the babies’ cries, she heard Mevrou van Niekerk.
“They were just playing, Willem. Just children’s games. Look how you’ve frightened them.”
After that, Mama had left Rosa every day with their neighbor, Mrs. Moloi. She was a kind old lady who looked after a couple of younger children as well. Rosa liked them but missed her games with Hennie. It would not be long, said Mama, before Rosa would start at the nearby school and have lots of friends of her own age to play with. But when the new year came and Mama took Rosa, in the maroon school pinafore that had been her Christmas present, they were turned away from the township school. The head teacher had explained that there were already eighty six-year-olds in a room meant for forty. He took their names and said he was sorry but they would have to wait another year. So Rosa returned to Mrs. Moloi. Mama let her wear her school uniform. She was growing quickly and it would be wasted otherwise.
Rosa had asked Mama about Hennie.
“Is Hennie waiting to go to school, Mama?”
Mama did not answer at first, but when Rosaasked again, she replied briefly, “No. He started at Oranje Primary.”
But only three weeks after Rosa had been turned away from the overcrowded school, a spirit of joy blossomed like an unexpected rainbow for a few days over the entire township. Neighbors and friends had crowded into their tiny sitting room, while Rosa sat wedged on Mama’s lap, watching a tall silver-haired man with a warm, serious but smiling face wave at them from their small television set. All around Rosa people were crying and laughing.
Unbelievable, they said. It was a day they had almost thought would never come. Nelson Mandela, the man the white government had locked up for life, was walking free from his prison! Here was their Madiba coming to help them. They prayed for him to chase away the heavy
Usually Meneer van Niekerk left home early, before Mama and Rosa had arrived, and returned after they had left. Mama never took Rosa with her on Saturdays and Sundays. When Rosa was old enough to ask why, Mama had explained that Hennie’s father “liked quiet.” Rosa told Mama that she and Hennie could be very quiet. They could play all day in the donga. Mama had said that Hennie’s father wouldn’t like that. The few times Rosa had seen him, he had never smiled. Rosa decided she would not like to see him angry. Hennie had told her about his father’s belt. How he had beaten him with it one evening after tripping over a rope the children had tied between two paw-paw trees to practice jumping.
“I didn’t tell on you,” Hennie had told her, showing her the marks on the back of his legs with some pride. “And Ma didn’t tell him!”
“What would your daddy do to me?” Rosa had asked.
Hennie had answered by sharply sucking in his breath as he pulled back his lips to show his teeth. Rosa felt her skin tingle as they began to collect dry grass to make a roof for the new house they were making.
Their playing together had come to a sudden end when one day Meneer van Niekerk came home early. The two of them were dashing under the sprinkler, shrieking and pulling funny faces for the twins, who were sitting up in their pram and gurgling, when Hennie’s father strode across the lawn. Like a thunderstorm he swept Hennie up with one arm and began to smack him on the bottom with the flat of his other hand. Hennie’s cries of laughter turned to cries of pain.
“ Wat makeer jy? What do you think you’re doing? Running around like a savage? Half-naked with this piccanin ?”
The words had slapped Rosa too. Mevrou van Niekerk and Mama had both come running from the house.
“Is this how you’re letting him grow? It’s time he learnt to be a proper boy—and to know he’s a white boy!”
Rosa saw Mama’s shoulders rise ever so slightly.Mama had taken Rosa silently by the hand and led her away. Above Hennie’s sobs and the babies’ cries, she heard Mevrou van Niekerk.
“They were just playing, Willem. Just children’s games. Look how you’ve frightened them.”
After that, Mama had left Rosa every day with their neighbor, Mrs. Moloi. She was a kind old lady who looked after a couple of younger children as well. Rosa liked them but missed her games with Hennie. It would not be long, said Mama, before Rosa would start at the nearby school and have lots of friends of her own age to play with. But when the new year came and Mama took Rosa, in the maroon school pinafore that had been her Christmas present, they were turned away from the township school. The head teacher had explained that there were already eighty six-year-olds in a room meant for forty. He took their names and said he was sorry but they would have to wait another year. So Rosa returned to Mrs. Moloi. Mama let her wear her school uniform. She was growing quickly and it would be wasted otherwise.
Rosa had asked Mama about Hennie.
“Is Hennie waiting to go to school, Mama?”
Mama did not answer at first, but when Rosaasked again, she replied briefly, “No. He started at Oranje Primary.”
But only three weeks after Rosa had been turned away from the overcrowded school, a spirit of joy blossomed like an unexpected rainbow for a few days over the entire township. Neighbors and friends had crowded into their tiny sitting room, while Rosa sat wedged on Mama’s lap, watching a tall silver-haired man with a warm, serious but smiling face wave at them from their small television set. All around Rosa people were crying and laughing.
Unbelievable, they said. It was a day they had almost thought would never come. Nelson Mandela, the man the white government had locked up for life, was walking free from his prison! Here was their Madiba coming to help them. They prayed for him to chase away the heavy
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