When you were sixteen and could leave the place and be in the outside world, you could always tell an orphan from The Boys Farm because the only teeth he still had were the ones growing in the back of the jaw where Doctor Dyke couldn’t get at them. It is very hard to look intelligent when you’ve only got empty gums in your mouth. So, if you could stand the pain, you’d hang on until the Government dentist arrived, because if things were really bad he’d give you an injection so it only hurt after, when the needle wore off, and besides, it was about a quarter of the pain or even less than a Doctor Dyke leather-chair-horse-pliers-extraction.
The morning after the night before when Pissy Vermaak had warned me in the wash house that he hadn’t forgotten me hitting him passed without incident. It was only when we got back from school that the trouble started. As I always did on my return I put my pencil case safely away. If you lost it the Government got very angry because it was ‘Government Goods Department of Education’, that is what our teacher told us it said on the back of the box. I waited until no one was looking and ran to the big rock that was a long way from the hostel building and quite deep in some bush. There were quite a lot of thorn bushes around so nobody ever went there except me because I knew a path through the thorns. I’d found it when I was quite little and had decided to run away. I had just walked and walked and when I got to this big rock I decided to take a rest and the rest made me change my mind because the situation was hopeless. But I knew I’d found a place I could come when I was miserable, which was quite a lot of the time. Now it was Tinker’s home and no longer a place to come when you were sad.
Whenever I got close I’d call her name and put two fingers between my lips and whistle. She’d bark with excitement when she heard me coming. This time I called and whistled but nothing. ‘Tinker! Tinker!’ I called again and let go another piercing whistle. Still nothing happened. My heart started to thump in my chest and I scratched my arm quite badly on a whitethorn bush in my haste to get to the big rock, but I didn’t even feel it until after. I rushed around the big rock and there stood Fonnie du Preez and Pissy Vermaak. Fonnie cradled Tinker in his arms and I could see there was a rope around her neck, and he held it in his fist and was pulling slightly at the rope so that Tinker’s head was forced upwards. Tinker was whimpering and shivering with fright and she tried to struggle free when she saw me, but Fonnie was too strong.
‘This your dog, Voetsek?’
I nodded, too overwhelmed for words.
Fonnie laughed. ‘Not any more, man, we going to kill it stone dead, you hear?’
Pissy grinned. ‘I told you I’d get my own back,’ he said triumphantly.
I felt the tears well up but I knew that crying wasn’t going to help. I knuckled them back, still unable to speak.
‘Please, Sir . . .’ came out in a whisper because my throat and chest were filled up with a hurt so terrible I thought I was going to split wide open.
‘Watch,’ Fonnie said. He released his arms around Tinker and held onto the rope so that she dangled from his arm, the rope pulling tight like a noose, her back legs kicking and her eyes filled with fear as she yelped frantically.
‘No!’ I screamed and flung myself at Fonnie’s feet and grabbed his ankles. ‘Please! Please don’t kill her, Fonnie!’ I pleaded, holding tightly onto his legs.
‘What will you give me if I don’t?’ he said, ignoring my tears. I could hear Tinker choking and whimpering above my head. I had nothing to give him, even my pencil box belonged to ‘Government Goods Department of Education’.
‘Please, I’ll do anything you want,’ I sobbed, looking up at him through my tears.
He put Tinker back into his arms, releasing the tension on the rope. ‘First you going to have to say you sorry for throwing Pissy with a stone so he got a fit and nearly died. It could have been murder, man!’ He looked at me sternly. ‘Then they’d put you in gaol and when you old enough hang you by the neck until you stone dead.’ He released his arms, Tinker fell and once again started to strangle in the noose.
‘Sorry, Pissy! Please don’t, Fonnie!’ I cried, reaching out to grab Tinker. Fonnie pulled away and Tinker swung away from my grasp and let out a terrible cry.
Fonnie grabbed her with his free hand and brought her back to his chest. ‘Throwing a stone at a person is a coward’s way, Voetsek.’ He paused. ‘But then you a rooinek, so what can you expect, you all cowards that murdered Boer women and children.’
‘I didn’t throw him with a stone, I hit him,’ I sobbed, then turned to Pissy. ‘Sorry I hit you in your stomach and you had a fit.’
Fonnie du Preez gave Pissy an incredulous look. ‘He hit you? The rooinek hit you?’
‘No, Fonnie, he’s lying, man,’ Pissy said hastily. ‘Honest to God, he threw me with a stone, a big one.’ Pissy indicated his stomach. ‘It hit me right here so I got a fit.’
‘Show me the mark, a big stone will leave a mark,’ Fonnie said.
Pissy didn’t pull his shirt up. ‘It’s gone already, Fonnie. Mevrou put some muti on it.’
‘You the one who’s lying now, you hear!’ Fonnie took a step towards Pissy who brought his hands up defensively to ward off the expected blow. Fonnie still held Tinker but he feinted with his left hand and Pissy reeled back. Fonnie took a second step and smacked Pissy with the flat of his hand, hard against the side of Pissy’s head.
‘Watch out!’ I yelled. ‘You’ll give him a fit!’ I expected Pissy to begin to shake and wobble on the spot right there in front of our eyes. Mind you, if he did, then Fonnie would have to sit on his chest and put a stick in his mouth and then he’d have to let go of Tinker. But I only thought of that later.
No such thing happened. Pissy just sniffed a big yellow glob of snot back in his nose and didn’t even cough, he just looked down at his feet. Tinker was still held captive. Fonnie ignored the petulant Pissy and addressed me. ‘You get points for hitting him and not throwing a stone.’ He paused and seemed to be thinking, then he said, ‘Sorry, but you not sorry enough.’
‘I am,’ I pleaded. ‘I’m really and truly sorry, Fonnie . . . Pissy!’
‘Really and truly, your father’s a coolie,’ Fonnie retorted, reciting the common rhyme and thinking himself very clever. ‘No, Voetsek, you have to show him, you have to show Pissy you sorry, man.’
I looked at him, not understanding. ‘What must I do?’ I asked tearfully.
‘Pissy, take off your pants!’ Fonnie demanded.
Pissy didn’t hesitate, immediately undoing the buckle of his belt and letting his khaki shorts drop down to his ankles. He had a grin on his face and he didn’t bother to cup his piel that looked just like a fat worm with a snout, something a chicken could gobble up.
‘Bend over!’ Fonnie commanded. Pissy turned and bent at the waist, his bare bum pointing directly at me. It was this pale pink colour and it was the only part of him that didn’t have freckles and, of course, no Chinese writing. Fonnie looked at me. ‘Kiss his arse, Voetsek!’
I looked up at him in dismay. ‘No,’ I said in a small voice. ‘It’s not nice.’
‘Ag, man, it’s not nice to nearly kill a person with a fit! You got to pay, man.’
‘I don’t want to,’ I said, not looking at Fonnie du Preez.
Fonnie’s voice changed. ‘It’s just like a girl’s arse. You’d kiss a girl’s arse, wouldn’t you?’
‘No, I wouldn’t!’ I retorted, shocked at the very idea.
‘Nice and pink and no marks.’ Fonnie’s voice had gone sort of gravelly. I hesitated, waiting, hoping for a reprieve. He suddenly barked, ‘You kiss Pissy’s arse or your dog dies!’ He let go of Tinker who fell dangling, yelping and kicking, the noose about her neck tightening as Fonnie jerked her upwards and held her aloft. ‘Kiss, Voetsek!’ he shouted. ‘Kiss, then lick his arse!’
All I could hear was Tinker yelping and I fell to my knees and kissed Pissy’s arse.
‘Kiss again, rooinek, inside!’ came the command from above. With Tinker yelping and
about to die from throttlelisation I licked the side of Pissy’s bum. ‘In sy gat! In his hole, kiss it for me!’ They both laughed and Pissy’s hands came around and parted his bum so I could see his arsehole. ‘Now kiss or the dog dies!’ Fonnie threatened. Tinker’s yelp had become a weak whimper as her throat constricted from the effects of the noose. I kissed into Pissy’s bum, inside the crack but my lips didn’t touch the place that wasn’t pink but sort of purple and nasty. It smelled of shit. I made a sort of smacking sound with my lips. ‘Now do it again, rooinek arselicker, and say you sorry again!’ Fonnie demanded.
I kissed Pissy’s bum hole but I didn’t lick it. ‘Sorry, Pissy,’ I wept.
‘Stay like that on your knees, don’t turn around,’ Fonnie’s voice demanded. Pissy stood up and moved away from me and I remained on my knees with my back to Fonnie. Tinker was either dead or back in his arms because she’d stopped whimpering. ‘Your dog is orright, you hear. Now turn around.’ I was trying not to blub as I started to get up but the tears and the sobs just came out by themselves. ‘No! Stay on your knees. Then turn around, Voetsek.’
‘Please don’t kill her,’ I choked, turning to face Fonnie. That’s the moment I got the biggest shock of my life. Fonnie du Preez had removed his shorts and staring at me was his enormous cock, fully erect.
‘You like my snake, hey, Voetsek? Suck me.’
‘No!’ I cried.
‘You licked Pissy’s arse, that’s far worse, man!’ Fonnie exclaimed.
‘I don’t want to, Fonnie,’ I said tearfully.
‘I got no more patience! Suck me, or this time your dog dies, for sure!’ He held Tinker by the rope and she was again yelping for her life, the whites of her eyes were showing and her legs were kicking. My little dog couldn’t take much more and her legs were going slower, unable to kick because she was choking to death. I heard Pissy cackle, ‘It tastes lekker, Voetsek . . . jus’ like boerewors.’ (It tastes nice, Voetsek . . . just like farmer’s sausage.)
Blubbing my heart out, I took Fonnie du Preez’s huge cock between my lips.
All of a sudden I heard this roar of anger, ‘Mina bulala wena!’ Fonnie turned suddenly and his cock jumped out of my mouth and, at the same time, Tinker dropped at my feet. I saw a pair of black arms lift Fonnie off the ground and hurl him so that he seemed to take off into the sky above me. Fonnie’s body arched, arms flailing, one coming down to try to break the fall as he crashed into the side of the big rock. I turned around in time to see him slide down the face of the rock, with blood streaming from his nose and head. He hit the ground like a rag doll, rolled over onto his stomach and then lay quite still. I thought he must surely be dead. I grabbed hold of Tinker and held her to my chest, crying and sobbing and shaking like billyo, kissing her soft little neck with the piece of rope still tied around it. She shivered and shook in my arms and started to lick the place where the whitethorn had ripped open the skin on my arm. I don’t know how long we remained like that, Tinker and me. I was too frightened to look at Fonnie du Preez’s dead body with blood all over his head and in his hair.
Then Mattress bent over me. ‘Come, Kleinbaas,’ he said in Zulu. He was panting and I could hear the air being pulled into his nostrils and out like an angry animal. He lifted us both up and carried us away, leaving Fonnie du Preez just lying there with his bare arse facing us in the late afternoon sunlight. Flies were already buzzing around his head like the big sow when she was feeding her piglets. Pissy Vermaak was nowhere to be seen. I rested my head against Mattress’s broad chest and just blubbed and blubbed like a little kid.
I can’t remember all the detail of what happened after. Mattress took me and Tinker to Meneer Botha and told him what he’d seen. He hadn’t seen the arse-licking part so he could only tell the part he’d seen. I must have still been in a state of shock and words couldn’t come out. But I need not have worried because the first thing Meneer Botha said was, ‘You don’t say anything, you hear!’ He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Look at me, Tom!’ he demanded. I looked up into his eyes which were fierce and frightening and he squeezed my shoulder so it hurt. ‘Stom! If I hear you told somebody, you in big trouble, you hear?’
What? Was he mad or something? Did he think I was going to walk around and tell everyone that I had Fonnie du Preez’s cock in my mouth or that I’d kissed Pissy Vermaak’s arsehole? Sis, man, imagine that! I may have been only six, nearly seven, but I wasn’t a complete nincompoop. It was bad enough being a rooinek, but if I told, everyone around the place would know, even a rooinek couldn’t survive that sort of shame! I nodded. ‘Ja, I promise, Meneer,’ I said.
‘I better go quickly and see where is Fonnie du Preez,’ Meneer Botha announced. He turned to Mattress. ‘You also, you don’t say anything. You were not there, you hear? If you tell then you get the sack, you understand, kaffir!’
‘Ja, Baas, I am not be to that place,’ Mattress readily agreed.
Meneer Botha looked at both of us threateningly. ‘If I hear either of you have said anything . . .’ he turned to me and for the first time seemed to notice Tinker, who was still cradled in my arms. ‘What you got there?’
‘It’s a dog, Meneer.’
‘Ja, I can see it’s a dog. You can’t have a dog, it’s not allowed.’
I didn’t know what to say except, ‘Yes, Meneer Botha.’
He seemed to change his mind and went down on his haunches and sort of smiled, then looked me in the eye. ‘You can keep him, but only if you promise you will never talk about what happened. You weren’t even there at the rock, you understand, Tom? If I hear you told someone, here, man!’ He paused, looked at Tinker and drew his finger across his throat. ‘Wragtig, he’s a dead dog, I swear it, or my name is not Frikkie Botha. Do you promise?’
‘I promise,’ I said with alacrity. It was going to be the easiest promise to keep I had ever made. But talk about a cat having nine lives, my dog was beginning to match any cat, so far everyone who had found out about Tinker had threatened to take her life almost from the moment she’d plopped out of that wet sack. Even Mattress had suggested wringing her neck, though I think it was a joke and he didn’t really mean it.
Meneer Botha pointed to Tinker. ‘He can stay in the dairy in the room at the back with the mielies. He’s a fox terrier. They make very good ratters. He can earn his keep, but only if you don’t tell, you hear?’ he said for the third time. I didn’t tell him Tinker was a she and so could have babies all over the place. Sometimes in life it’s best just to leave some things out when you talking to a person. It’s not lying, it’s just that they don’t always have to know everything about a person’s business.
‘Where is du Preez?’ Frikkie Botha asked.
‘I show you this place,’ Mattress said.
‘Ag, no man, didn’t you hear what I just told you, hey? You and the boy supposed to know nothing about this. Nothing! Bugger all! Is he at the big rock?’
‘Ja, Baas, sorry, Baas, yes the rock, Baas,’ Mattress said, looking down at his big feet.
Here’s the story as it came out. Fonnie du Preez had a broken arm, a broken nose and sixteen stitches in his head and they had to take him in the lorry into town to see Doctor Van Heerden. As the story went, Fonnie and Pissy Vermaak had gone for a walk in the bush to shoot some birds with their cattys. Fonnie had climbed to the top of the big rock to see what was going on in the bush and there were bush doves calling that were hard to see in the tall trees that grew next to the creek. That’s why he climbed the rock. Anyway, he started to come back down and some loose shale came off the big rock and he lost his balance and fell. Then Pissy ran to the dairy, the nearest place after the pigsty, and told Meneer Botha, who promptly came to the rescue. There was no mention at all of Mattress or me.
Whoever made it up, probably Meneer Botha, did a good job because everyone believed that’s what happened and said it was a tragedy as the district schools’ boxing championship was coming up and Fonnie du Preez would miss out on winning the middleweight division.
Meneer Botha said it was a travesty of justice that the boxer from Lydenburg High, Henrick Van Jaarsveldt, would probably win the championship when everyone knew Fonnie du Preez could take him any time with one hand tied behind his back.
What I couldn’t understand was that the secret of the big rock was safe. Nobody was going to believe a kaffir and a rooinek even if we kept telling the truth til the cows came home. What really happened was safely buried for all time. Even so, I could see that Meneer Botha was very worried that the truth might come out. Fonnie would never tell. Pissy wouldn’t either, no way, man. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to put Tinker’s life at risk or ruin whatever was left of my reputation. Nobody would even listen to Mattress because he was a kaffir and would only tell a whole lot of lies.
But nobody had reckoned on Mevrou and her influence over Pissy Vermaak. Mevrou liked to be the first to know everything and Pissy was her conduit to what happened on The Boys Farm. Here was something really dramatic happening, like a broken arm and nose and stitches in Fonnie du Preez’s head and Pissy was an eyewitness and hadn’t come to her first but had run to Frikkie Botha instead. Broken arms and other things were her department and she was supposed to call the doctor and take charge. Meneer Botha had taken over and driven Fonnie du Preez to the hospital without telling her or taking her along, and all of a sudden everyone was saying Frikkie Botha was a hero. He had got all the credit and the story was even in the newspaper, the Zoutpansberg Nuus, where they had a picture of Frikkie Botha and one of Fonnie in his boxing uniform, posing with the gloves on when he won the schools’ district title.
Whitethorn Page 5
