Edge of the Rain

by Beverley Harper

  ‘That is so,’ !Ka agreed.

  ‘Did he also make the food and water so the white man can live?’

  ‘I do not know,’ !Ka said soberly. ‘I suppose he must have.’

  ‘The white man has his own Great God,’ another man said sternly. ‘He does not share our God with us.’

  ‘He does not share his land or his food with us either,’ someone else said. ‘Why is this?’

  ‘Because he is restless,’ Alex told the men.

  ‘Are you restless, !ebili?’

  Alex waited again. It was important to him that his friends understood. ‘In my heart . . .’ he said finally, ‘. . . I have the old man jackal. There is nothing I can do about that. He was put there by the white man’s Great God for the reasons I have already given. The jackal makes me want my own lands.’

  He had their complete attention. ‘When I lived with you other things were put in my heart. If I find these stones I can buy my own land and the restless jackal will be satisfied. Then I can listen to the words of the San in my heart.’

  Several heads nodded but !Ka puffed his pipe and said, ‘Then beware, my son. Our ways leave you like a helpless infant in the white man’s world. It is better for you to forget our ways. The restless, like the jackal, seeks his own company.’

  ‘Yes,’ Alex said soberly, realising he had failed to make them understand his need. ‘But it must surely be possible to put the good from both ways together.’

  One of the others leaned forward. ‘Have you ever seen the lion cry tears of remorse?’

  And Alex had no answer.

  ‘!ebili is too silent’ !Ka commented quietly. ‘Perhaps he is wondering how to make the lion cry?’

  It broke the sombre mood and had everyone laughing with delight.

  ‘Tell us of this woman you bring here,’ !Ka said, when the laughter died down.

  So Alex spent some time telling them of the far away lands where she came from, where the rain is so cold it falls in white tufts like the soft belly hair of the springbok. He spoke of rolling green hills, of oceans and cities and men with strange customs. They listened enthralled. No-one had ever spoken before of such things in a language and a manner they could understand.

  He was loving being back with these people, especially when he did not have to translate. He had pondered long and hard as to the ethics of bringing Chrissy here. !Ka’s people had avoided contact with whites all their lives. Some of the children had, until today, never seen a white person. !Ka was too polite to say so, but Alex wondered if he had overstepped the courtesy mark by bringing her with him. But when, hesitantly, he tried to raise the subject, !Ka simply smiled and said, ‘Are you happy, !Oma, now that you are with your own kind?’

  ‘I am happy in the desert, Father. I do not like the towns.’

  !Ka nodded. ‘The desert has given you back your life more than once. She can be very cruel to those who do not listen to her. You are of the desert now, !ebili, and the desert is of you. Heed her voice.’ Was it criticism? He did not know.

  Then they talked of other things, of San things, of nature and spirits and seasons past, of life and death, of finding Alex in the desert and, of course, of the Moon. That same moon was long set before he entered his hut and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Despite earlier worries about Marv coping with Pru, Chrissy happily agreed to spend an extra day with the clan. She woke refreshed and eager to learn more about them. After all, it gave her an excellent insight into a way of life that was, until 10,000 years ago, the way of life of all humanity.

  She had always believed that the hunting and gathering subsistence life of the Bushmen left them permanently hungry and in constant pursuit of sustenance. But when she was invited to go with Be and several other women to collect food for their meal that night, she was surprised when the group ignored a patch of melons and headed further away from camp with a purpose that left her in little doubt that they knew exactly where they were going and what they were gathering.

  The women stopped in a grove of mongongo nut trees and began to fill their bags with nuts. Chrissy could see literally thousands rotting on the ground. Clearly, there was such an abundance of nuts the clan couldn’t eat them all. Be showed her which nuts to take and which to leave. It was an enjoyable experience. The silence in the desert was broken only by the conversation of the women. Excluded from understanding their language, she nonetheless sensed they were discussing simple, everyday things—food, children, husbands—the same as women all over the world.

  On the way back to camp, Be pointed off to her left and, when she looked, Chrissy was horrified to see a big, black-maned lion was keeping up with them some 300 feet away. The women were completely unconcerned and, after a few minutes, Chrissy realised that the lion was simply following them out of curiosity. Just before they reached camp, the lion vanished.

  Back in camp, Alex explained and translated what appeared to be a violent argument.

  ‘N!ou has killed a porcupine,’ he said. ‘They are discussing how the meat is to be distributed.’

  ‘Was it poisoned?’ She didn’t fancy the possibility of eating contaminated meat.

  ‘They don’t often poison porcupines. They seal the holes in his burrow except for the entrance. Then they build a fire just inside it and wait. When the animal makes a break for it they club it to death.’ He laughed. ‘Porcupines are okay. It’s when they do that to warthog that things can get tricky.’

  ‘Why are they shouting at each other? They look as though they’re about to fight.’

  ‘This is normal. Fifteen, twenty minutes from now they’ll be laughing.’

  She watched them. Several men appeared to be on the verge of physical violence. Then someone interjected with a few words and the whole group was suddenly rendered helpless with laughter. ‘That’s amazing!’

  Alex smiled. ‘Sometimes I think they argue so they can enjoy a good laugh afterwards.’

  ‘Why were they arguing anyway? If N!ou . . .’ she stumbled over the click in N!ou’s name, ‘. . . killed the porcupine, then the meat is surely his.’

  He looked at her in mock horror. ‘Sacrilege, sacrilege,’ he said. ‘The San don’t operate that way, my darling girl. All food is to be shared. How it’s shared depends on the size. Small game—hares, birds, snakes and such—is cooked by the hunter’s wife and eaten by his family. However, if anyone else joins the family at their fire they must offer them some. If they don’t then you’d really see an argument.’

  ‘How about the porcupine?’

  ‘Again, the hunter’s wife cooks it. Once it’s cooked portions are distributed to everyone else.’

  ‘I’ll bet N!ou’s wife is pleased he didn’t kill an elephant then.’ She grinned at the mental image of the poor woman trying to stuff an elephant into her cooking pot.

  ‘They don’t hunt elephants. !Ka says the San believe elephants think like humans. They leave them alone.’

  ‘I don’t suppose such a belief has developed out of respect for an elephant’s size?’

  ‘You’re thinking like a white woman.’

  ‘I guess I am.’ She told him about the lion she’d seen. ‘They’re certainly not cowards. The only one worried about the lion was me.’

  ‘That lion has been around for years. They know it won’t harm them. But you’re right, they’re not cowards.’

  She looked up at him. ‘I’m loving this, Alex. Thank you for bringing me.’

  He put his arm around her. ‘Thanks for coming. Seeing things through your eyes shows me how much they’ve taught me.’ He kissed her ear. ‘Now, to complete your education on the distribution of food, if N!ou had killed a large animal the food would have been cut up and shared three ways. About a fifth would be kept by N!ou and another fifth made into biltong. The rest would go to relatives in camp. It would then be up to them to share their portion with other relatives.’

  ‘There’s something I don’t understand.’

  ‘What?’

  �
��If the clan has such clear cut rules about how meat is divided, why are they having a hell of a row over there?’

  Alex laughed. ‘Because, darling, having a hell of a row, as you so elegantly put it, is one of the most enjoyable pastimes there is. There are heaps of things to row about. N!ou, for example, has had an argument with his sister’s husband. What they’re yelling about is that he wants to give his brother-in-law less meat than anyone else. !Ka has the porcupine as a totem and is not allowed to eat the meat. He’s shouting at N!ou for being so stupid as to kill an animal he is forbidden to harm. That man waving his arm about is saying his family is large and he should get more of the meat than the others.’

  Once again, the argument ceased abruptly as the men rolled around with laughter.

  ‘What made them laugh?’

  Alex was laughing as hard as the men. When he could, he explained: ‘!Ka has just reminded everyone of the time N!ou brought a warthog back and, when they went to cut it up, it came to life and put most of the men up trees.’

  She laughed too. ‘He’s a very wise man.’

  ‘He’s the wisest man I know,’ Alex agreed. ‘But why do you say that?’

  ‘He’s diffused the conflict with humour.’

  ‘They all do that. As much as they love to argue, they back right away from fighting. They all know they have the capacity to kill. They go to extraordinary lengths to avoid serious dispute. They’d rather leave the clan than resort to physical violence.’

  ‘What makes them like that I wonder?’

  ‘I can’t answer that. However, it’s learned right from infancy. They have no concept of honour, bravery or masculine superiority. The games they play as children lack the competitiveness of our games. When I stayed with them I made a rough football. It was just a springbok skin stuffed with grass and sewn up. I tried to teach the boys rugby. They simply didn’t see the point of it and got more fun out of running, throwing and catching. Their games are about sharing, not proving themselves.’

  The porcupine, boiled with a kind of wild spinach and the sauce thickened with ground mongongo nuts, was delicious. Chrissy tucked into it with the same gusto as Alex. She saw Be watching her and smiled, rubbing her stomach and nodding. Be smiled back but her eyes held Chrissy’s and the smile never reached them.

  Chrissy sat with Alex and the men for a while that night but she could see that having to translate all the time was distracting him so she said goodnight. After she left, Be said, ‘The fire which burns bright on that one’s head burns bright in her heart too.’

  ‘Yes.’ Alex smiled at her. ‘It burns bright in my heart as well.’

  Be nodded seriously. ‘You should marry that one, !Oma. You should have children. You should do it quickly.’

  Alex was delighted she approved. ‘As quickly as she will agree, my mother.’ He had just turned twenty but he knew what he wanted. Chrissy’s interest in the San, the way she happily fitted in with the women, had impressed him. He knew he was in love with her.

  ‘The fire runs through the veins as well, !Oma,’ Be said.

  ‘!ebili knows that fire’ !Ka said sharply. ‘Stop your talking, woman. You are making us all tired.’

  Alex glanced at him, surprised.

  ‘We have other things to discuss,’ !Ka said. ‘We want !ebili to tell us more about the places far from here.’

  And they talked until the moon had set and the backbone of the sky began to fade.

  He was sad to say goodbye the next morning. He knelt in front of !Ka and allowed him to wipe his perspiration over his head. He held Be’s hand a fraction longer than normal. They were getting old and he wondered if he would ever see them again.

  Chrissy, sensing his mood, was silent for the first half hour. In the end, though, she burst out, ‘Please, please can we stop and wash your hair?’ As she tipped some water over his head from one of the containers he heard her say softly, ‘Seeing you out there with those people tells me so much about you.’

  He straightened and shook his head, water flying everywhere. ‘That I’m a mad Bushman?’ He wiped his face and grinned at her.

  ‘No.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘That you are a very special person.’ She leaned towards him. ‘I want to kiss you very badly.’

  Alex was only too happy to oblige.

  The closer they got to the cattle post, the more Chrissy worried about Pru and Marv. ‘She only arrived yesterday,’ Alex pointed out. ‘She can’t have savaged him to death yet.’

  ‘Pru could make mince meat of the devil in the space of ten minutes.’

  ‘But Marv is so friendly.’ He looked over at her. ‘Why are you so down on her if she’s your friend?’

  She grinned. ‘I’m not really down on her. It’s just . . . Look, Pru’s childhood was a bit odd. Her mother probably never loved anyone in her life, least of all Pru. Her father is so damned vague he’s possibly forgotten he even has a daughter. Pru was basically raised by the servants. Her parents travelled all the time, they never took her along and they never rushed home to be with her during the holidays. I remember one time she was very excited because her parents were going to be home. When she got there she found all the letters she’d written to them during the term in a drawer, unopened. When she asked her mother why she hadn’t read the letters, Lady bloody Darlington-Brown said, “But, darling, they’re so boring.”’

  ‘Ouch!’ Alex said.

  ‘Pru developed a facade. The only role model she had was her mother, whom she adored. The result, I’m afraid, is one very insecure girl who acts like a bloody duchess, who hides her insecurity behind biting remarks and who refuses to let anyone get close in case she gets hurt. I am the only exception. We’ve known each other since prep school and she trusts me.’

  ‘Some people should never have children.’ Alex shifted down a gear and swerved around a pothole. ‘I take it she doesn’t see much of her parents now.’

  ‘On the contrary. She and her mother press cheeks and call each other darling and go to first nights together. She hunts with her father and just about kills herself trying to win his approval. It’s so sad. All her mother ever does is criticise. Her father is so busy with whatever mistress is current he barely speaks to Pru. And she keeps knocking herself out just trying to get them to see her.’

  Alex wondered what !Ka and his clan would make of such people.

  It was four in the afternoon when they drove into the cattle post. There was no sign of Pru or Marv, although the two suitcases in the hut showed she had arrived.

  They heard a Land Rover about an hour later. ‘Here they come,’ Alex called.

  He didn’t know what he expected Pru to be, an obvious misfit of some kind maybe. But he was not prepared for the Prudence Darlington-Brown who leapt from the vehicle screaming, ‘Darling, thank God you’re here. The company leaves a bit to be desired,’ before throwing herself at Chrissy with almost hysterical joy. He looked at Marv. His friend sat in the Land Rover in abject misery. Two days with Pru had taken their toll. Marv looked like a whipped cur.

  Chrissy led Pru to Alex and introduced them. ‘He’s a bit young, darling,’ was her greeting.

  Marv joined them. ‘Welcome back,’ he said to Alex with profound relief.

  ‘Come, sweetie, we have so much to talk about.’ Pru dragged Chrissy inside.

  ‘How’s it been?’ Alex spoke out of the side of his mouth.

  ‘Perfectly frightful.’ Marv gave such a good imitation of Pru’s accent that Alex laughed.

  ‘She’s attractive enough.’ And she was. Tall, leggy, slim, blonde hair cut in a bob and a face to turn heads.

  ‘Yeah,’ Marv agreed miserably. ‘If she could just keep her mouth shut.’

  From inside the cabin came shrill screams of, what sounded like, totally forced laughter. Alex told Marv the little he knew of Pru. ‘All this is an act,’ he concluded.

  Marv looked thoughtfully at the hut, his tender heart touched.

  When the girls rejoined them they all sat around th
e fire drinking beer from bottles. Pru had calmed down somewhat although anything she said was peppered with ‘dahling’ or ‘sweetie’. She spoke to Chrissy mainly, giving her news of people at home. She was polite and distant to Alex. It was to Marv that she directed most of her rudeness.

  When he brought her a beer, ‘Oh how perfectly lovely—my own slave.’

  When he offered her a cooked sausage, ‘Ugh, you’ve touched it with your fingers. No thanks.’

  When she said she was cold and he fetched her cardigan, ‘Not that one, the blue one. Go and find it, it’s in there somewhere.’ Marv patiently went back for the blue one. Pru didn’t even thank him.

  Alex could see Chrissy was getting cross. Come to that, he wasn’t too pleased either. No-one expected Marv’s sudden outburst.

  ‘. . . so Mummy was absolutely livid. I mean she’s put up with Daddy’s indiscretions for years, you know what he’s like. Poor Daddy, he just can’t help himself. But really, dahling, Janice is Mummy’s best friend. She . . .’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Marv snapped.

  Pru looked at him startled. ‘I beg your pardon, I was speaking to Chrissy not you.’

  ‘I said, that’s enough.’

  ‘How dare you.’

  Marv stood up. ‘Don’t you have a life?’ He scratched his head. ‘Your parents are about as interesting as a pet rock. Do you ever talk about anything else?’

  Pru’s mouth had dropped open. Wordlessly, she turned to Chrissy for support.

  ‘He’s got a point,’ Chrissy said gently.

  Still speechless, Pru turned back to Marv who grinned, shrugged and handed her another beer. ‘Get that into you.’

  She snatched it from him angrily.

  Marv sat down again and looked at her reflectively. Alex could see he was trying to find the right words and braced himself for one of Marv’s gaffes. ‘You don’t like yourself very much, do you?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  Marv grinned again. ‘Bullshit!’