Cry, The Beloved Country Part 31

35.

THERE IS PLOUGHING in Ndotsheni, and indeed on all the farms around it. But the ploughing goes slowly, because the young demonstrator, and behind him the chief, tell the men they must no longer go up and down. They throw up walls of earth, and plough round the hills, so that the fields look no longer as they used to look in the old days of ploughing. Women and boys collect the dung, but it looks so little on the land that the chief has ordered a kraal to be built, where the cattle can stay and the dung be easily collected; but that is a hard thing, because there will be nothing to eat in the kraal. The young demonstrator shakes his head over the dung, but next year he says it will be better. The wattle seed is boiled, and no one has heard of such a thing before in this valley, but those that have worked for the white farmers say it is right, and so they boil it. For this seed one or two desolate places have been chosen, but the young demonstrator shakes his head over them, there is so little food in the soil. And the demonstrator has told the people they can throw away the maize they have kept for planting, because it is inferior and he has better seed from uJarvis. But they do not throw it away, they keep it for eating.

But all this was not done by magic. There have been meetings, and much silence, and much sullenness. It was only the fear of the chief that made anything come out of these meetings. No one was more dissatisfied than those who had to give up their fields. Kuluse's brother was silent for days because the dam was to eat up his land, and he was dissatisfied with the poor piece of land they gave him. Indeed the umfundisi had to persuade him, and it was hard to refuse the umfundisi, because it was through him that had come the milk that had saved his brother's child.

The chief had hinted that there were still harder things he would ask, and indeed the young demonstrator was dissatisfied that they had not been asked at once. But it would be hard to get these people to agree to everything at once. Even this year he hoped, said the young demonstrator, that the people would see something with their eyes, though he shook his head sadly over the poverty-stricken soil.

There was talk that the Government would give a bull to the chief, and the young demonstrator explained to k.u.malo that they would get rid of the cows that gave the smallest yield, but he did not talk thus in the meeting, for that was one of the hard things for a people who counted their wealth in cattle, even these miserable cattle.

But the greatest wonder of all is the great machine, that was fighting in the war, they said, and pushes the earth of Kuluse's brother's land over to the line of the sticks, and leaves it there, growing ever higher and higher. And even Kuluse's brother, watching it sullenly, breaks out into unwilling laughter, but remembers again and is sullen. But there is some satisfaction for him, for next year, when the dam is full, Zuma and his brother must both give up their land that lies below the dam, for white man's gra.s.s is to be planted there, to be watered from the dam, to be cut and thrown into the kraal where the cattle will be kept. And both Zuma and his brother laughed at him, because he was sullen about the dam; so in some measure he is satisfied.

Indeed, there is something new in this valley, some spirit and some life, and much to talk about in the huts. Although nothing has come yet, something is here already.

There was another Napoleon, said k.u.malo, who was also a man who did many things. So many things did he do that many books were written about him.

The young demonstrator laughed, but he cast his eyes on the ground, and rubbed his one boot against the other.

You can be proud, said k.u.malo. For there is a new life in this valley. I have been here for many years, but I have never seen ploughing with such spirit.

There is a new thing happening here, he said. It is not only these rains, though they too refresh the spirit. There is hope here, such as I have never seen before.

You must not expect too much, said the young man anxiously. I do not expect much this year. The maize will be a little higher, and the harvest a little bigger, but the soil is poor indeed.

But next year there will be the kraal.

Yes, said the young man eagerly. We will save much dung in the kraal. They say to me, umfundisi, that even if the winter is cold, they will not burn the dung.

How long will it be before the trees are ready?

Many years, said the demonstrator gloomily. Tell me, umfundisi, he said anxiously, do you think they will bear the winter for seven years?

Have courage, young man. Both the chief and I are working for you.

I am impatient for the dam, said the demonstrator. When the dam is made, there will be water for the pastures. I tell you, umfundisi, he said excitedly, there will be milk in this valley. It will not be necessary to take the white man's milk.

k.u.malo looked at him. Where would we be without the white man's milk? he asked. Where would we be without all that this white man has done for us? Where would you be also? Would you be working for him here?

It is true I am paid by him, said the young man stubbornly. I am not ungrateful.

Then you should not speak so, said k.u.malo coldly.

There fell a constraint between them, until the young demonstrator said quietly, umfundisi, I work here with all my heart, is it not so?

That is true indeed.

I work so because I work for my country and my people. You must see that, umfundisi. I could not work so for any master.

If you had no master, you would not be here at all.

I understand you, said the young man. This man is a good man, and I respect him. But it is not the way it should be done, that is all.

And what way should it be done?

Not this way, said the young man doggedly.

What way then?

Umfundisi, it was the white man who gave us so little land, it was the white man who took us away from the land to go to work. And we were ignorant also. It is all these things together that have made this valley desolate. Therefore, what this good white man does is only a repayment.

I do not like this talk.

I understand you, umfundisi, I understand you completely. But let me ask one thing of you.

Ask it then.

If this valley were restored, as you are always asking in your prayers, do you think it would hold all the people of this tribe if they all returned?

I do not know indeed.

But I know, umfundisi. We can restore this valley for those who are here, but when the children grow up, there will again be too many. Some will have to go still.

And k.u.malo was silent, having no answer. He sighed. You are too clever for me, he said.

I am sorry, umfundisi.

You need not be sorry. I see you have a love for truth.

I was taught that, umfundisi. It was a white man who taught me. There is not even good farming, he said, without the truth.

This man was wise.

It was he also who taught me that we do not work for men, that we work for the land and the people. We do not even work for money, he said.

k.u.malo was touched, and he said to the young man, Are there many who think as you do?

I do not know, umfundisi. I do not know if there are many. But there are some.

He grew excited. We work for Africa, he said, not for this man or that man. Not for a white man or a black man, but for Africa.

Why do you not say South Africa?

We would if we could, said the young man soberly.

He reflected for a moment. We speak as we sing, he said, for we singNkosi Sikelel' iAfrika .

It is getting dark, said k.u.malo, and it is time for us to wash.

You must not misunderstand me, umfundisi, said the young man earnestly. I am not a man for politics. I am not a man to make trouble in your valley. I desire to restore it, that is all.

May G.o.d give you your desire, said k.u.malo with equal earnestness. My son, one word.

Yes, umfundisi.

I cannot stop you from thinking your thoughts. It is good that a young man has such deep thoughts. But hate no man, and desire power over no man. For I have a friend who taught me that power corrupts.

I hate no man, umfundisi. I desire power over none.

That is well. For there is enough hating in our land already.

The young man went into the house to wash, and k.u.malo stood for a moment in the dark, where the stars were coming out over the valley that was to be restored. And that for him was enough, for his life was nearly finished. He was too old for new and disturbing thoughts and they hurt him also, for they struck at many things. Yes, they struck at the grave silent man at High Place, who after such deep hurt, had shown such deep compa.s.sion. He was too old for new and disturbing thoughts. A white man's dog, that is what they called him and his kind. Well, that was the way his life had been lived, that was the way he would die.

He turned and followed the young man into the house.

36.

THIS WAS THE fourteenth day. k.u.malo said to his wife, I am going up into the mountain. And she said, I understand you. For twice before he had done it, once when the small boy Absalom was sick unto death, and once when he had thought of giving up the ministry to run a native store at Donnybrook for a white man named Baxter, for more money than the church could ever pay. And there was a third time, but that was without her knowledge, for she was away, and he had been sorely tempted to commit adultery with one of the teachers at Ndotsheni, who was weak and lonely.

Would you come with me, he said, for I do not like to leave you alone.

She was touched and she said, I cannot come, for the girl is near her time, and who knows when it will be. But you must certainly go.

She made him a bottle of tea, of the kind that is made by boiling the leaves, and she wrapped up a few heavy cakes of maize. He took his coat and his stick and walked up the path that went to the place of the chief. But at the first fork you go to the side of the hand that you eat with, and you climb another hill to other huts that lie beneath the mountain itself. There you turn and walk under the mountain to the east, as though you were going to the far valley of Empayeni, which is another valley where the fields are red and bare, a valley of old men and women, and mothers and children. But when you reach the end of the level path, where it begins to fall to this other valley, you strike upwards into the mountain itself. This mountain is called Emoyeni, which means, in the winds, and it stands high above Carisbrooke and the tops, and higher still above the valleys of Ndotsheni and Empayeni. Indeed it is a rampart of the great valley itself, the valley of the Umzimkulu, and from it you look down on one of the fairest scenes of Africa.

Now it was almost dark, and he was alone in the dusk; which was well, for one did not go publicly on a journey of this nature. But even as he started to climb the path that ran through the great stones, a man on a horse was there, and a voice said to him, It is you, umfundisi?

It is I, umnumzana.

Then we are well met, umfundisi. For here in my pocket I have a letter for the people of your church. He paused for a moment, and then he said, The flowers were of great beauty, umfundisi.

I thank you, umnumzana.

And the church, umfundisi. Do you desire a new church?

k.u.malo could only smile and shake his head, there were no words in him. And though he shook his head as if it were No, Jarvis understood him.

The plans will shortly come to you, and you must say if they are what you desire.

I shall send them to the Bishop, umnumzana.

You will know what to do. But I am anxious to do it quickly, for I shall be leaving this place.

k.u.malo stood shocked at the frightening and desolating words. And although it was dark, Jarvis understood him, for he said swiftly, I shall be often here. You know I have a work in Ndotsheni. Tell me, how is the young man?

He works night and day. There is no quietness in him.

The white man laughed softly. That is good, he said. Then he said gravely, I am alone in my house, so I am going to Johannesburg to live with my daughter and her children. You know the small boy?

Indeed, umnumzana, I know him.

Is he like him?

He is like him, umnumzana.

And then k.u.malo said, Indeed, I have never seen such a child as he is.

Jarvis turned on his horse, and in the dark the grave silent man was eager. What do you mean? he asked.

Umnumzana, there is a brightness inside him.

Yes, yes, that is true. The other was even so.

And then he said, like a man with hunger, do you remember?

And because this man was hungry, k.u.malo, though he did not well remember, said, I remember.

They stayed there in silence till Jarvis said, umfundisi, I must go. But he did not go. Instead he said, Where are you going at this hour?

k.u.malo was embarra.s.sed, and the words fell about on his tongue, but he answered, I am going into the mountain.

Because Jarvis made no answer he sought for words to explain it, but before he had spoken a word, the other had already spoken. I understand you, he said, I understand completely.

And because he spoke with compa.s.sion, the old man wept, and Jarvis sat embarra.s.sed on his horse. Indeed he might have come down from it, but such a thing is not lightly done. But he stretched his hand over the darkening valley, and he said, One thing is about to be finished, but here is something that is only begun. And while I live it will continue. Umfundisi, go well.

Umnumzana!

Yes.

Do not go before I have thanked you. For the young man, and the milk. And now for the church.

I have seen a man, said Jarvis with a kind of grim gaiety, who was in darkness till you found him. If that is what you do, I give it willingly.

Perhaps it was something deep that was here, or perhaps the darkness gives courage, but k.u.malo said, truly, of all the white men that I have ever known - I am no saintly man, said Jarvis fiercely.

Of that I cannot speak, but G.o.d put His hands on you.

And Jarvis said, That may be, that may be. He turned suddenly to k.u.malo. Go well, umfundisi. Throughout this night, stay well.

And k.u.malo cried after him, Go well, go well.

Indeed there were other things, deep things, that he could have cried, but such a thing is not lightly done. He waited till the sounds of the horse had died away, then started to climb heavily, holding onto the greatest stones, for he was young no longer. He was tired and panting when he reached the summit, and he sat down on a stone to rest, looking out over the great valley, to the mountains of Ingeli and East Griqualand, dark against the sky. Then recovered, he walked a short distance and found the place that he had used before on these occasions. It was an angle in the rock, sheltered from the winds, with a place for a man to sit on, his legs at ease over the edge. The first of these occasions he remembered clearly, perhaps because it was the first, perhaps because he had come to pray for the child that no prayer could save any more. The child could not write then, but here were three letters from him now, and in all of them he said, If I could come back to Ndotsheni, I would not leave it any more. And in a day or two they would receive the last he would ever write. His heart went out in a great compa.s.sion for the boy that must die, who promised now, when there was no more mercy, to sin no more. If he had got to him sooner, perhaps. He knitted his brows at the memory of that terrible and useless questioning, the terrible and useless answering, it is as my father wishes, it is as my father says. What would it have helped if he had said, My father, I do not know?