A
LETTER FROM
HOME
195
and then he'd ask a question, remember? Well,
do
you? Because its
only just now
I'm
beginning to remember. People'd be talking about,
I don't know what, the Nats or the weather or the grape-crop,
anything, and just as you'd start to get nervous because he never said
anything he'd lean forward and start questioning, terribly serious,
earnest, about some detail, something not quite central, if you
know what
I
mean. Remember now? He'd lean forward, smiling,
smiling, and he'd say: "You really mean that, it rained all morning?
It rained all
morning,
is that the truth?" That's right, you'd say, a
bit uneasy, and he'd say, shaking his head, "God, man, it rained all
morning, you say ..." And then there'd be a considerable silence
till
things picked up again. And half an hour later he'd say: "You
really mean it, the hanepoort grapes are good this year?"
Right. We drank a good bit of
brandewyn
that night, but in a
civilized way, you know: "Would you like another little drop, Martin?"
"la,
just a small tot, Hans, thank you," but we got pretty pickled, and
when
I
woke Sunday morning,
I
felt like death, but Esther was
setting down a tray of tea by my bed, all dressed up in her Sunday
hat and her black silk saying :
((Goeie more,
Master du Preez, it's
nearly time for Church," and
I
nearly said: "I'm not a church-goer,
Esther," but I thought better of it, because it came to me, can it be
possible, has our Hans turned a God-fearing man in Blagspruit? So
I said,
((Goed,
Esther, thanks for telling me, and now just get out of
here so that I can get dressed." Otherwise she'd have dressed me, I
swear it. And she gave me a majestic nod, knowing that God had
spoken through her to send me to Church, sinner that I was and
stinking of cheap
dop
from the night before.
Right. Johannes and I went to
Kerk,
he in a black Sunday
suit, if you'd believe such a thing, and saying: "Good morning,
Mr. Stein,
goeie more,
Mrs. Van Esslin," a solid and respected
member of the congregation, and I thought, poor
kerel,
there but for
the grace of God go I, if I had to live in this godforsaken
dorp
stuck
in the middle of the Orange Free State. And he looked like death
after the
brandewyn,
and so did I, and we sat there swaying and
sweating in that blerry little church through a sermon an hour and
a half long, while all the faithful gave us nasty curious looks. Then
we had a cold lunch, Esther having been worshipping at the kaffir
church down in the Location, and we slept it all off and woke
