easy, I bend over and pick up the bundle.
You can’t do that! Philida shouts behind me.
You just come with me, I tell her over my shoulder. Or else you’ll see what’s going to happen to this bladdy monkey.
She is screaming behind me, but by now I am striding along with the bundle in my arms. I can hear her wading through the shallow water. I can even hear her gasping for breath. In my arms I clutch the small, hot bundle. Ahead of me I can see the thick, dark green bamboos clustered together around the dark secret in their midst. And inside my breeches I can once again feel that thrilling, tight, almost painful stirring I haven’t felt in God knows how many months. This is it, I think, and I call, Come on now, Philida. Just stay with me. Stay with me.
I’m coming, I hear her say.
Come with me, I say again. I can see that she first considers objecting, but when I turn round she is following me, dragging her feet. She won’t allow me to get too far away with the baby, that I know.
I walk a little distance along the white dusty footpath and turn off into the bamboo copse.
Where the Ouman going now?
It’s not for you to ask, Philida, I snap at her. You just do as I tell you. And I walk on, pushing the first bamboos out of my way. Then I move deeper into the copse. A few steps further I can hear her footsteps stopping behind me.
Damn you, Philida! I shout without looking round.
This place is Frans’s place, she says behind me.
What do you know about Frans’s place?
I just know.
Today you’re coming with
me
.
She follows me slowly and cautiously. I lead the way with stiff legs, following my half-rampant member that tries half-heartedly to point the way. As far as I want to take her.
The stirring in my breeches becomes more urgent. I can feel my grip tightening around the heavy belt I am clutching in my hand under the baby. The breeches have started slipping. I kick them off. In a heap they cluster around my ankles. It is painful to bend over but with a grunt I stoop forward and use my free hand to disentangle myself.
But only a few steps further she says behind me: I won’t let the Ouman beat me.
I turn back to her. Now I have to think very clearly. I don’t want to have an argument with a bladdy slave here where everybody can observe us. Even here among the dense bamboos, who knows what they can see?
You want your child back? I ask over my shoulder.
You can’t do this, Ouman! she says.
Don’t be so sure.
The Ouman is not going to beat me today, she says again, but her voice is wavering.
All right then, I try to soothe her. I won’t beat you with my belt today. What you need is a snot sjambok. Get down on your knees. And turn your arse this way.
I won’t, she says.
On your knees, Philida. Today you’re going to pray before we leave this place.
I don’t feel like praying, she says.
It is to say goodbye.
I do not need to say no goodbye. The Ouman must put down that belt, she says.
I won’t.
Then I go back to the river, Philida says, aiming to turn away towards the fringe of the copse.
What about your child?
Give him back to me.
You’ll have to come and get him first.
She shakes her head.
Get on your knees,
meid
, I order her.
Her lips are trembling. I can hear her breath come in sharp and shallow gasps. But she repeats: I won’t.
Oh yes, you will, I tell her. I’m not waiting any longer.
Meid
.
I am not your
meid
, Ouman. Haven’t been for a long time now.
I raise my free arm, now holding the belt. But then I stop and lower the arm again.
On your knees, Philida, I order her very quietly.
Why, Ouman?
The breeches lie crumpled at my feet. I kick them aside and say, Because you’re going to leave us. After today I never want to see you again. This is the last time.
The Oubaas cannot do this, she objects. I lie with Frans now.
You got a bloody cheek,
meid
!
I will tell the Ouvrou Janna, she says.
For a moment I feel winded and cannot think of anything to say.
Frans lie
You can’t do that! Philida shouts behind me.
You just come with me, I tell her over my shoulder. Or else you’ll see what’s going to happen to this bladdy monkey.
She is screaming behind me, but by now I am striding along with the bundle in my arms. I can hear her wading through the shallow water. I can even hear her gasping for breath. In my arms I clutch the small, hot bundle. Ahead of me I can see the thick, dark green bamboos clustered together around the dark secret in their midst. And inside my breeches I can once again feel that thrilling, tight, almost painful stirring I haven’t felt in God knows how many months. This is it, I think, and I call, Come on now, Philida. Just stay with me. Stay with me.
I’m coming, I hear her say.
Come with me, I say again. I can see that she first considers objecting, but when I turn round she is following me, dragging her feet. She won’t allow me to get too far away with the baby, that I know.
I walk a little distance along the white dusty footpath and turn off into the bamboo copse.
Where the Ouman going now?
It’s not for you to ask, Philida, I snap at her. You just do as I tell you. And I walk on, pushing the first bamboos out of my way. Then I move deeper into the copse. A few steps further I can hear her footsteps stopping behind me.
Damn you, Philida! I shout without looking round.
This place is Frans’s place, she says behind me.
What do you know about Frans’s place?
I just know.
Today you’re coming with
me
.
She follows me slowly and cautiously. I lead the way with stiff legs, following my half-rampant member that tries half-heartedly to point the way. As far as I want to take her.
The stirring in my breeches becomes more urgent. I can feel my grip tightening around the heavy belt I am clutching in my hand under the baby. The breeches have started slipping. I kick them off. In a heap they cluster around my ankles. It is painful to bend over but with a grunt I stoop forward and use my free hand to disentangle myself.
But only a few steps further she says behind me: I won’t let the Ouman beat me.
I turn back to her. Now I have to think very clearly. I don’t want to have an argument with a bladdy slave here where everybody can observe us. Even here among the dense bamboos, who knows what they can see?
You want your child back? I ask over my shoulder.
You can’t do this, Ouman! she says.
Don’t be so sure.
The Ouman is not going to beat me today, she says again, but her voice is wavering.
All right then, I try to soothe her. I won’t beat you with my belt today. What you need is a snot sjambok. Get down on your knees. And turn your arse this way.
I won’t, she says.
On your knees, Philida. Today you’re going to pray before we leave this place.
I don’t feel like praying, she says.
It is to say goodbye.
I do not need to say no goodbye. The Ouman must put down that belt, she says.
I won’t.
Then I go back to the river, Philida says, aiming to turn away towards the fringe of the copse.
What about your child?
Give him back to me.
You’ll have to come and get him first.
She shakes her head.
Get on your knees,
meid
, I order her.
Her lips are trembling. I can hear her breath come in sharp and shallow gasps. But she repeats: I won’t.
Oh yes, you will, I tell her. I’m not waiting any longer.
Meid
.
I am not your
meid
, Ouman. Haven’t been for a long time now.
I raise my free arm, now holding the belt. But then I stop and lower the arm again.
On your knees, Philida, I order her very quietly.
Why, Ouman?
The breeches lie crumpled at my feet. I kick them aside and say, Because you’re going to leave us. After today I never want to see you again. This is the last time.
The Oubaas cannot do this, she objects. I lie with Frans now.
You got a bloody cheek,
meid
!
I will tell the Ouvrou Janna, she says.
For a moment I feel winded and cannot think of anything to say.
Frans lie
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