The Two Hearts of Kwasi Boachi: A Novel by Arthur Japin Page B

and ran off as if I were about to give chase.
    19 March
    When I opened my shutters this morning, young Aquasi was sitting on his haunches under a tree in the yard. I beckoned him. He saw me, but did not dare come near. This angered me. It was ten in the morning, and it took me considerable effort to secure a place for him at the Reformed School. I wish him to be educated at a respectable institution. He is the only pupil who lives among the natives. And he is the brightest of the lot.
    I called his name. I tried telling him to go to school, but he did not budge. Ahim said the boy had been sitting there for hours. I got dressed and ordered breakfast to be served on the veranda for two. But my son refused to come near. At long last I took a plate and brought it to him. He had been crying. I asked him why he was not at school. He said nothing, but the way his eyes avoided mine gave me the answer. I felt a stab of anger and grief and bit my lips.
    “Are they giving you a hard time?” I asked, and immediately regretted my question, for he started sobbing. I hugged him tight, telling him that these things happen to us all and that he had to be strong. Then he explained that his classmates had taunted him with the name “Snow White.”
    This is a Dutch joke. The Javanese name for the African recruits in the Dutch East Indies Army was blanda hitam , or black Hollanders. After a long life of service, these old recruits, procured by my own father, had retreated into small villages in Semarang and Purworedje. Their half-caste descendants display the same features as my beloved children. The Hollanders, with typical humour, called them by the deprecatory nickname of Snow White.
    “Does your teacher know about this?” I asked. Aquasi nodded. “And has he punished the wrongdoers?” He shook his head.
    My first impulse was to go to the school, give the teacher a hiding and explain to the class about the high birth of my son. Ahim opposed the idea. Aquasi’s anxious looks told me he was right. I calmed down. I went to sit under the tree again, beside my son and told him he was the descendant of a great king. It was my intention to restore his self-confidence. But he stared at the ground as if to say: So much the worse! I sent Ahim to fetch him some goodies from the kitchen. When he returned he offered them to the child with a sweeping bow, in a way he has refused to do for me for years.
    “For Aquasi and Aquasi,” he said, beaming, “the two princes of Ashanti . . .” I do not believe he was mocking us. I was relieved to see my son’s face brighten. I told him he ought to be proud, and went on to mention various details of his ancestry.
    20 March
    Today I had a disconcerting encounter with Mrs. Renselaar. I was taking a stroll to the Botanical Gardens, where I had not been for several weeks. Happening to pass her house I felt obliged to make a brief social call. After the customary civilities she pressed me yet again to speak of my history. I must admit that her plea was not entirely unwelcome this time. The past haunts me. I happened to be carrying my manuscript under my arm. It was time to let someone else read my words, and in order to silence Adeline I entrusted the papers to her. She reacted like Salome to the head of John the Baptist.
    Since her last visit I have had some difficulty in deciding what my attitude to her should be. The irritation she arouses in me has abated somewhat. The interest she shows in my person seems— certainly compared to her customary histrionics—almost sincere.
    Late in the afternoon her husband came home: a formal man. He was most surprised to find me there. Indeed, one might even say he was shocked.
    “Well now,” he said nervously. “Well now, what a coincidence!”
    When he heard that I had written an account of my early years for his wife to read and that I had come to deliver the manuscript to her (that was her version of events) he drew her sternly into the other room. What passed