FROM Tell Freedom Peter Abrahams Wednesday was crackling! day. On that day the children of the location? made the long trek to Elsberg siding? for the squares of pig's rind that passed for our daily meat. We col- lected a double lot of cow dung the day be- fore; a double lot of moeroga.* 1 finished my breakfast and washed up. ‘Aunt Liza was at her wash-tub in the yard. A misty, sickly sun was just showing, And on the open veld? the frost lay thick and white on the grass. “Ready?” Aunt Liza called. I went out to her. She shook the soapsuds off her swollen hands and wiped them on her apron. She lifted the apron and put her hand through the slits of the many thin cotton dresses she wore. The dress nearest the skin was the one with the pocket. From this she pulled sixpenny piece.” She tied it in a knot in the corner of a bit of coloured cloth. “Take care of that. . . . Take the smaller 1. eracling: crisp pork rind left aller roasting or fnane 2 eras «vere ares where the ator ad bs Samy are required to He. 3 Eldberg a vilage st the Transeal. a province in South lie: sidings abort section ofwraroad track or asidetrack eed for unouding or bypatting. (Also spelled Zlsburg.) “4 moeroge wild spinach, 5. weld (cet an open srany field with almost ao tees oF bashes 6. slspenny piece a coin equal tosispence in British money piece of bread in the bin but don’t eat it till you start back. You can have a small piece of crackling with it. Only a small piece, under- stand?” “Yes, Aunt Liza.” “All right.” 1 got the bread and tucked it into the little canvas bag in which I would carry the crack- ling, “Bye Aunt Liza.” 1 trotted off, one hand in my pocket, feeling the cloth where the money was, I paused at Andries’s home. “andries!” I danced up and down while T waited. The cold was not so terrible on bare feet if one did not keep still. ‘Andries came trotting out of their yard. His mother's voice followed: desperate and plaintive: “TIl skin you if you lose the money!” “Women!” Andries said bitterly. I glimpsed the dark, skinny woman at her wash-tub as we trotted across the veld. Be- hind, and in front of us, other children trot- ted in two's and three’s. “There was a sharp bite to the morning air I sucked in; it stung my nose so that tears came to my eyes; it went down my throat like tan icy draught; my nose ran. I tried breath- ing through my mouth but this was worse. ‘The cold went through my shirt and shorts; Tell Freedom 554 iy skin went pimply and chilled; my fingers went numb and began to ache; my feet felt like frozen lumps that did not belong to me, yet jarred and hurt each time I put them down. I began to feel sick and desperate. “Jesus God in heaven!” Andries cried sud- dealy. looked at him, His eyes were rimmed in red. Tears ran down his cheeks. His face was drawn and purple, a sick look on it. “Faster,” I said. “Think itll help?” Tnodded. We went faster. We passed two children, sobbing and moaning as they ran. We were all in the same desperate situation. ‘We were creatures haunted and hounded by the cold, It was a cruel enemy who gave no quarter.’ And our means of fighting it were pitifully inadequate. In all the mornings and ‘evenings of the winter months, young and ‘old, big and small, were helpless victims of he bitter cold. Only towards noon and the ‘early afternoon, when the sun sat high in the sky, was there a brief respite. For us, the children, the cold, especially the morning cold, assumed an awful and malevolent per- sonality, We talked of “It.” “It” was a half human monster with evil thoughts, evil in- tentions, bent on destroying us. “It” was happiest when we were most miserable. Andries had told me how “It” had, last win- ter, caught and killed a boy. Hunger was an enemy too, but one with whom we could come to terms, who had many virtues and values. Hunger gave our pap,? moeroga, and crackling, a feast-like quality. We could, when it was not with us, think and talk kindly about it. Its memory could even give moments of laughter. But cold of winter was with us all the time. 7. gave no quarter: showed no mere’ 8. pup (op tasteless food. 56 PETER ABRAHAMS never really eased up. There were only more bearable degrees of “It” at high noon and on mild days. “It” was the real enemy. And on this Wednesday morning, as we ran across the veld, winter was more bitterly, bitingly, freezingly, real than ever. The sun climbed, The frozen earth thawed, leaving the short grass looking wet and weary. Painfully, our feet and legs came alive. The aching numbness slowly left our fingers. We ran more slowly in the more bearable cold. Tn climbing, the sun lost some of its damp ook and seemed a real, if cold, sun. When it vwas right overhead, we struck the sandy road which meant we were nearing the siding. None of the others were in sight. Andries and I were alone on the sandy road on the open veld. We slowed down to a brisk walk. We were sufficiently thawed to want to, / talk. “How far?” I sai “A few minutes,” he said. “Tve got a piece of bread,” I said. Me too,” he said. “Let's eat it now. “On the way back,” I said. “With a bit of . . Race to the fork.” “all right “Gol” he said. We shot off together, legs working like pis- tons. He soon pulled away from me. He reached the fork in the road some fifty yards ahead. “T win!” he shouted gleefully, though his teeth still chattered. ‘We pitched stones down the road, each trying to pitch further than the other. I won and wanted to go on doing it. But Andries soon grew weary with pitching. We raced again. Again he won, He wanted another race but I refused. I wanted pitching, but he erefused. So, sulking with each other, we reached the pig farm. We followed a fenced-off pathway round sprawling white buildings. Everywhere about us was the grunt of pigs. As we passed an open doorway, a huge dog came bounding ‘out, snarling and barking at us. In our terror, we forgot it was fenced in and streaked away. Surprised, I found myself a good distance ahead of Andries, We looked back and saw a young white woman call the dog to heel. “Damn Boer® dog,” Andries said. fatter with it?” I asked. rey teach them to go for us. Never get ‘caught by one. My old man’s got a hole in his bottom where a Boer dog got him. Lremembered I had outstripped him. “Lwon!” I said “Only because you were frightened,” he said. “I still won. “TH knock you!” “TIL knock you back!” A couple of white men came down the path and ended our possible fight. We hur- ried past them to the distant shed where a queue'® had already formed. There were grown-ups and children. All the grown-ups, and some of the children, were from places other than our location. The line moved slowly. The young white ‘man who served us did it in leisurely fashion, with long pauses for a smoke. Occasionally he tured his back. ‘At last, after what seemed like hours, my tum came, Andries was behind me. T took the sixpenny piece from the square of cloth and offered it to the man. 8. Boer (br. bor): Boers are descendants of Dutch cole- cists, The term Afnkaner atrka'nar is often used for a South Afican of Dutch ancestry 10, queve (Kv a Tne of people 58 PETER ABRAHAMS Well?” he said. ‘Sixpence crackling, please.” ‘Andries nudged me in the bac stare suddenly became cold and hard Andries whispered into my ear. “Well?” the man repeated coldly. ‘Please bas," I said. “What d’you want?” “Sixpence crackling, please.” “What?” Andries dug me in the ribs. “Sixpence crackling, please bas.” “what?” “Sixpence crackling, please baas.” “You new here?” “Yes, baas.” 1 looked at his feet while he stared at me. ‘At last he took the sixpenny piece from me. I held my bag open while he filled it with crackling from a huge pile on a large canvas sheet on the ground. Turning away, I stole a fleeting glance at his face. His eyes met mine, and there was amused, challeng- ing mockery in them. I waited for Andries at the back of the queue, out of the reach of the white man’s mocking eyes. ‘The cold day was at its mildest as we walked home along the sandy road. 1 took cout my piece of bread and, with a small piece of greasy crackling, still warm, on it, I munched as we went along. We had not yet made our peace so Andries munched his bread and crackling on the other side of the road. “Dumb fool!” he mocked at me for not knowing how to address the white man. Hurling curses at each other, we reached the fork. 11, boas (bis, bds) an Avkaans word that came fom the Dutch word for imarer” or boss,” used to address a white ee‘Andries saw them first and moved over to ny side of the road ‘White boys,” he said ‘There were three of them. Two of about our own size and one slightly bigger. They fad school bags and were coming toward us up the road from the siding “Better run for it,” Andries said. “Why?” “No, that'll draw them. Let's just walk os along, but quickly.” “Why?” I repeated “Shut up,” he said. 't<__ Some of his anxiety touched me. Our own ~Zéiap was forgotten. We marched side by side as fast as we could. The white boys saw tos and hurried up the road. We passed the fork. Perhaps they would take the turning away from us. We dared not look back. “Hear them?” Andries asked. ee 1 looked over my shoulder. “They're coming,” I said “Walk faster,” Andries said. “IF they come closer, run. “Hey, Klipkop!” “Don't look back,” Andries said. “Hottentot!”? We walked as fast as we could. “Bloody kaffir!"” ‘Ahead was a bend in the road. Behind the ‘bend were bushes. Once there, we could run ‘without them knowing it till it was too late “Faster,” Andries said. They began pelting us with stones. “Run when we get to the bushes,” Andries said. 12, Hottentot(hit'ntat’): The orginal inhabit ‘Aficn were the Khoi od a x00 AeiGee Here the naine i sed as an insulting term. 35 a a aterm rth ‘Sout Africans, used 0c ‘The bend and the bushes were near. We would soon be there. "A clear young voice carried t0 Us: Your fathers are dirty baboons! Site “Run!” Andries called ete nnn A Violent, unteasoning anger suddenly possessed me. I stopped and turned “You're a liar!” I sereamed it ‘The foremost boy pointed at me eae ialy babooalseas sce on ata of rage I wen ards him, "| shouted. “My father was better than your father!” T geared them. The bigger boy stepped between me and the one I was after. “My father was better than your father! Liar!” ‘The big boy struck me @ mighty clout on the side of the face. I staggered, righted my- self, and leapt at the boy ‘who had insulted sey ather, I struck him on the face, hard: A Neh 8 heavy blow on the ‘back of my head nearly stunned me. 1 grabbed at the boy in front of the. We went down together. “Liar!” I said through clenched teeth, hit- ting him with all my might. Blows rained on me, on my head, my nek the side of my face, my mouth, but mY Deemy was under me and I pounded him fercely, all the time repeating: “Liar! Liar! Liar!” Suddenly, stars exploded in my head. ‘Then there was darkness. 1 emerged from the darkness to find ‘Andries kneeling beside me. “God man! I thought they'd killed you. fe sat up, The white boys were nowhere to be seen. Like Andries, they'd probably Trovit me deed and run off in pane. The inside of my mouth felt sore and swollen. My nose was tender to the touch. The back of my head ached. A trickle of blood dripped from Tell Freedom 59my nose. I stemmed it with the square of coloured cloth, The greatest damage was to my shirt, It was ripped in many places. 1 remembered the crackling. I looked anx- iously about. It was safe, a little off the road on the grass. I relaxed. I got up and brushed my clothes. I picked up the crackling. “God, youre dumb!” Andries said. “You're going to get it!” T was too depressed to retort. Besides, T ‘knew he was right. I was dumb. 1 should have run when he told me to. “Come on,” I said. One of many small groups of children, each child carrying his little bag of crackling, we trod the long road home in the cold win- ter afternoon. Transkei, a territory in South Africa, Newsphotos Betumann “There was tension in the house that night. When I got back Aunt Liza had listened to the story in silence. The beating or scolding T expected did not come. But Aunt Liza changed while she listened, became remote... 7 and withdrawn. When Uncle Sam came home she told him what had happened. He, too, just looked at me and became more re~ mote and withdrawn than usual. They were waiting for something; their tension reached out to me, and I waited with them, anxious, apprehensive "The thing we waited for came while we were having our supper. We heard a trap pull up outside et “Here it is incle Sam said and got up- ‘Aunt Liza leaned back from the table and teas Yooute put her hands in her lap, fingers intertwined, a cold, unseeing look in her eyes. Uncle Sam reached it, the door burst opeA tall, broad, white man strode in. Behind him came the three boys. The one I had attacked had swollen lips and a puffy left eye. “Evening baas,” Uncle Sam murmured. “That's him,” the bigger boy said, pointing at me. The white man stared till I lowered my eves. “Well?” he said. “He's sorry, bas,” Uncle Sam said quickly. “I've given him a hiding he won't forget soon. You know how it is, baas. He's new here, the child ofa relative in Johannes- burg and they don't all know how to behave there, You know how it is in the big towns, bas.” The plea in Uncle Sam's voice hed grown more pronounced as he went on. He tumed to me. “Tell the baas and young basies how sorry you are, Lee.” Looked at Aunt Liza and something in her lifelessness made me stubborn in spite of my fear. “He insulted my father,” I said. The white man smiled “See Sam, your hiding couldn't have been good.” There was a flicker of life in Aunt Liza's eyes. For a brief moment she saw me, looked at me, warmly, lovingly, then her eyes went dead again. “He's only a child, baas,” Uncle Sam mur- mured. “You stubborn too, Sam?” ‘No, baas.” “Good... . Then teach him, Sam. If you and he are to live here, you must teach him. ‘Well... .?” “Yes, bas.” Uncle Sam went into the other room and returned with a thick leather thong. He ‘wound it once round his hand and advanced on me, The man and boys leaned against the door, watching, [looked at Aunt Liza's face. Though there was no sign of life or feeling on it, T knew suddenly, instinctively, that she wanted me not to cry. Bitterly, Uncle Sam said: “You must never lift your hand to a white person. No matter what happens, you must never lift your hand to a white person. .. .” He lifted the strap and brought it down on my back. I clenched my teeth and stared at ‘Aunt Liza, I did not ery with the first three strokes. Then, suddenly, Aunt Liza went limp. Tears showed in her eyes. The thong came down on my back, again and again. I sereamed and begged for mercy. I grovelled at Uncle Sam’s feet, begging him to stop, promising never to lift my hand to any white person. ‘At last, the white man’s voice said: “all right, Sam.” Uncle Sam stopped. I lay whimpering on the floor. Aunt Liza sat like one in a trance. “Js he still stubborn, Sain?” “Tell the bas and basies you are sorry.” , As “Tm sorry,” I said. 3 1D We mc insults bes Fate. aber nigie ener -w Oot 0 YD. “Bet his father is one of those who believe ‘in equality.” “His father is dead,” Aunt Liza said. ~_) “Good night, Sam. “Good night, baas. Sorry about thi “all right, Sam.” He opened the do boys went out first, then he followed. “Good night, Liza.” "Aunt Liza did not answer. The door shut behind the white folk, and, soon, we heard their trap moving away. Uncle Sam flung the thong viciously against the door, slumped down on the bench, folded his arms on the Tell Freedom 61table, and buried his head on his arms. Aunt Liza moved away from him, came on the floor beside me and lifted me into her large lap. She sat rocking my body. Uncle Sam began to sob sofily. Alter some time, he ised his head and looked at us. “Explain to the child, Liza,” he said. “You explain,” Aunt Liza said bitterly. “You are the man. You did the beating. You are the head of the family. This is a man’s world. You do the explaining,” “Please, Liza... .” “You should be happy. The whites are sat- isfied. We can go on now.” With me in her arms, Aunt Liza got up. She carried me into the other room. The food on the table remained half-eaten. She laid me on the bed on my stomach, smeared fat on my back, then covered me with the blankets. She undressed and got into bed beside me. She cuddled me close, warmed me with her own body. With her big hand on my cheek, she rocked me, first to silence, then to sleep. 62 PETER ABRAHAMS For the only time of my stay there, I slept on a bed in Elsberg When I woke the next morning Uncle Sam had gone. Aunt Liza only once referred to the beating he had given me. It was in the late afternoon, when I returned with the day's cow dung. “tt hurt him,” she said. "You'll understand one day.” ‘That night, Uncle Sam brought me an or- ange, a bag of boiled sweets, and a dirty old picture book, He smiled as he gave them to me, rather anxiously. When I smiled back at him, he seemed to relax. He put his hand on my head, started to say something, then changed his mind and took his seat by the fire. ‘Aunt Liza looked up from the floor where ished out the food. all right, old man,” she murmured. ‘One day. . .” Uncle Sam said. “Ty's all right,” Aunt Liza repeated insis- tently. shAbout the Author Peter Lee Abrahams was born in the slums “of Vrededorp (fréd’a- dérp) outside Johannesburg, South Africa. His father was an Ethiopian and his mother was 2 “Cape Colored,” 2 term used in South Africa as a classification for persons of mixed racial descent, At the age of five he went to live in the Transvaal {trans-val’, tranz-) with his aunt and uncle. in ‘the autobiographical novel Tei! Freedom (1954), he relates experiences from this pe- riod of his life. Because Abrahams was classified as col- ored, he had little control over his life. liter acy was the norm in the slums where he grew up, and he was nine or ten years old before he learned to read. Reading was the key that opened the door to choices for him— choices that brought about change and growth. He attended school whenever he could manage to go between menial jobs. In 1939 he worked as a stoker on a ship to earn his passage to England, where he began to write articles for newspapers and radio scripts for the BBC (British Broadcasting Cor- poration). Abrahams has written short stor- ies and poems, but his reputation chiefly rests on his novels. Mine Boy (1946) called attention to the racial barriers plaguing blacks in South Africa. Apartheid (e-part’hit’, -hat!) became the official policy of South Africa in 1948. That was when the Nationalist Party, made up chiefly of Boers (descendants of Dutch set- tlers}, gained control of the government. Apartheid refers to the government's policy Peter Abrahams (6. 1919) of discrimination against nonwhites. It hes affected education, jobs, and housing. Apart- held has been condemned throughout the world, and many nations and individuals have taken economic sanctions against the Republic of South Africa to force the govern- ment to change its policy, Although some progress has been made in the struggle to end apartheid, much remains to be done. In The Path of Thunder (1948) and in sub- sequent novels Abrahams has dealt with the apartheid laws governing the official policy of racial segregation in the Republic of South Africa, Peter Abrahams 53