Embrace (26 page)

Having read the novel, I already knew that many of the conspirators called themselves Jacques. There’s Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three. I couldn’t but think of the other one and smile. My beloved co-conspirator. Only, he and I — and Dominic — were somehow on the other side. On the side of the bourgeoisie. And I knew that Sydney Carton would sacrifice himself and go to the guillotine in Paris so that Evremonde could live and return to London for the woman he loved. The film offered a more vivid picture of most of the characters than my hasty reading had allowed. In particular of Madame Defarge. Even more witch-like in the film than I imagined her from the novel. How terrifying to
see
her knitting while people were taken to the guillotine. And her sidekick in the movie — a character I didn’t recall from the novel — the one who laughed like a crazed hyena: the ugliest, most evil-sounding creature in the world. When the film showed the guillotine’s blade from the top, suspended while the drums rolled before it dropped, I felt it was a million times more terrifying than looking at the dull-coloured illustrations in the book. The sharp blade up there; the pale white neck of the aristocrat waiting in the block; the sound of the drums; one held one’s breath; and then the plebeians cheer! Seeing that, I could no longer believe Sydney Carton would offer himself so that the woman he loved may be happy. I’d never be able to do it. Not for anyone. How sad, the entire story.

Lukas took the final spool off the projector. I could see a few boys wipe their faces, hastily brush tears from their cheeks. No one spoke.

Ma’am stood to turn on the fluorescent light.

From in front of me, the sound of Madame Defarge’s sidekick cackling, suddenly sliced the silence. It was Dominic. In a moment we were all laughing. Ma’am, after giving Dom a stern look, also chuckled and moved over to the blackboard. She said it was time we got back to the curriculum. We were to read Causes, Developmentsand Outcomes of the French Revolution for next History period. That section was bound to appear in the test.

Dominic put up his arm. Ma’am nodded for him to go ahead. ‘Do you think we’ll have a revolution in South Africa, Ma’am?’ Ma’am’s eyes settled briefly on the back wall as she pondered the question. In her usual measured, confident tone she answered: ‘No, I think not, Dominic. We shouldn’t draw parallels between South Africa and France. The French Revolution was about justice amongst equals in the same country. The plebeians had been exploited for hundreds of years by the aristocracy and they wanted a slice of the cake, as it were. Black people in South Africa know that South Africa does not belong to them, they are not citizens of this country. They have full citizenship in the native homelands. No, the situation is not comparable.’

‘They must just try, here,’ Bennie said, half lifting himself from his desk. ‘I’ll kill those kaffirs before they’ve even got out of the locations.’ ‘Don’t use that word in my class, Benjamin! I’ve told you before: it is a vile and cruel word. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, Ma’am. Sorry, Ma’am.’

‘Ma’am, they almost killed our host mother in Jo’burg. Kids were all around her car and they’d have done it if the police hadn’t arrived.’ ‘And, Ma’am,’ I spoke up, ‘look at what they’re doing to their schools. Burning their own schools to the ground. It’s horrible, Ma’am.’

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ said Mervyn. ‘They say they want to learn but then they go and burn down their schools. And stone white people’s cars.’ ‘They’re protesting because they’re being forced to learn in Afrikaans,’ Dominic interrupted, indignation in his tone. ‘How would you feel if you suddenly had to learn Science and Maths in Zulu?’

‘I agree with Dominic,’ Niklaas Bruin said, a nervous edge to his voice, as he turned, his gaze fastening to mine.

‘Aag, Niklaas,’ I said. ‘You’ll be the first to run when they come to take over your house.’ I glared at him and he looked down at his desk.

‘Why,’ Dominic continued, half rising from his desk, ‘should they be forced to learn in a language that is spoken by only two million people? English is an international language, and they want to study in English.’

Bennie said there were
two
official languages, not just one: ‘English
and
Afrikaans, and why should they not learn both like the rest of us, Ma’am?’

‘Because people have a right,’ Dominic responded as though the question were directed at him, ‘to choose the language they wish to be taught in. That’s why!’ Annoyance in his expression as he shook his head at Bennie.

From the back of the class someone said: ‘We don’t even have a choice, what are you talking about, Webster! It’s one week English, one week Afrikaans. Now you want to give the . . . the plurals a choice!’

‘Okay, that will suffice,’ Ma’am interrupted. ‘No politics in class. That’s it.’

‘But, Ma’am,’ Dominic said, ‘these issues are relevant to the French Revolution.’

‘Well, then we can have an organised debate outside of class time. How does that sound?’

Some said it was a waste of time, but most agreed it was a good idea. Ma’am asked us to formulate a topic.

Bennie said we should address the question of how to get rid of all blacks. Ma’am ignored him and suggested we discuss:
The French Revolution and its Relevance to the Republic of South Africa in 1916.

‘Okay, that’s our topic. Now we must elect two speakers. One in favour of positive relevance and another arguing negative relevance.’ Her eyes slid over the class, stopped on Dom in front of me. ‘Dominic, what about you to speak for the positive side, seeing as you introduced the question?’

‘Of course, Ma’am, I’d love to.’

‘Okay, and who will speak against it?’

‘De Man . . . let De Man speak . . . Karl... He’s the best speaker.’ I had already anticipated that it may come to this and shook my head. As much as I liked debating, I would not speak as Dominic’s opponent. I knew I could probably beat anyone in debate — barring perhaps Niklaas Bruin. But talking publicly against Dominic seemed like sacrilege.

‘Come on, De Man. Kom aanf

‘Doesn’t want to speak against Dame Dominique Defarge . . .’ I swung around in my chair and glared at Radys.

‘Okay, pipe down.’ Ma’am was irritated. ‘Honestly, what has gotten into you boys today?’ Now her voice altered, was kind and generous: ‘Karl, if you don’t want to do it, who would you suggest?’

‘Mervyn,’ I said. ‘He’s good. Or Niklaas, but he agrees with Dominic so he can’t speak against him. Can you, little Niklaas?’ ‘Karl.’ Ma’am glowered at me.

‘Mervyn?’ She enquired: ‘Would you like to do it?’

‘Yes! . . . Merv! . . . Clemence-Gordon . . . You’re our man.’

‘Is it going to be just in front of our class, Ma’am,’ Mervyn asked, ‘or in front of the whole school?’

‘The whole school,’ everyone called.

‘No, I’m afraid it will be only our class. No politics allowed in school. I could lose my job.’

‘If it’s just our class, I’ll speak,’ Mervyn replied. The class clapped. When we walked from the room for lunch, Bennie slapped me hard between my shoulder blades: ‘Why are you letting an Englishman — a Jew — speak for our side. You would have beat Dominic hands down.’

‘I didn’t feel like speaking, Bennie, that’s all. And Mervy’s your friend. Why didn’t
you
speak if the whole thing’s so important?’

‘You know I can’t debate, De Man. You can . . . That’s the difference. Verraaier . . .’

I fell into line for lunch behind Dominic. I felt sorry for him. The whole class seemed to have turned against him — barring Niklaas Bruin, and who wanted that little sissy on your side, anyway. In the silence of the queue I thought of what Bennie had just called me. What else might lie behind his words? Was he speaking only about todays class? Did he suspect or know something? Could he possibly guess about Mr Cilliers? No, Bennie was too thick; probably didn’t even know about Dominic and me. Was it about last year? Was it possible that Almeida had said something, after all, about my treason?

After lights-out, for the first time in weeks, I went to Dominic’s bed. We didn’t speak, or even really touch other than where our bodies met. For a long while, as I hoped he could sense how I wanted him to feel better, I held him, got him to rest his head on my chest. I wished he would keep out of arguments when he knew his would always be the unpopular view. But I knew it would be to no avail: he was his father and mother’s son and Dr and Mrs Webster seemed to care less what anyone thought of them. Didn’t they know how difficult they were making his life by teaching him to always be against everything, even things that didn’t matter?

I couldn’t prevent myself from going stiff, and soon his hand found my erection. He lifted his head and kissed me. I reached down for him. I longed to be on top of him again as I’d been the night in his bedroom in Saxonwold. When he’d asked with his Condensed Milk breath and I’d slowly obliged and pushed it into him. What we did there, and a few times later on tour took turns at, would be too noisy for the dorm. Even as I tried to forget, each moment in G with him remained frightening, the spectre of exposure and terrible shame always entangled in and almost overwhelming my pleasure and desire. Once we’d both climaxed — of late kissing deeply at the right moment to keep each other quiet — we wiped our bellies and hands on the seam of his locker’s curtain. A whispered goodnight and I crept back to F, feeling guilty and afraid. At least for a while.

I recognised Bokkie’s thin blue aerogram even before Uncle Charlie called my name. At the dormitory door, amongst the others, I waited to see whether there was another for me, perhaps from Alette. Uncle Charlie teased Lukas that his pink envelope reeked of perfume. We called for Lukas to do push-ups. Uncle Charlie shook his head and a sssss, tsss, tsss ran through the crowd as he handed over the letter.

I stared at the aerogram. The school’s address was slanted diagonally across the envelope. I cannot, cannot believe she keeps doing it like this when I’ve told her repeatedly it’s out of fashion! I ripped open the narrow flaps I knew her tongue had licked, her fingertips folded over and compressed.

Dan Pienaar Drive 21

Amanzimtoti

15 August 1976

This one again, too! It’s out of date, I had told her. There’s a new rule; it’s different now; you start each successive line directly below the previous.

By now so angry it was a near impossibility for me to concentrate on her words:

Dear Karl

Thank you for your lovely letter about the tour. We’re so grateful to the Lord for bringing you back safely. And proud of you for everything you are doing and that you’re so lucky to see the whole country. I know Lena and Bernie badly want to see the Cape as well. Maybe we’ll go one day. You are so privileged and I hope you’re working hard.

We knew a Samuel Erasmus in Oljorro, and Mumdeman says he is the brother of the people you stayed with in Cape Town. Samuel Erasmus’s wife Betta is on that photograph we have of me and Aunt Siobhain with John Wayne when he came to makethe movie in Arusha. Nice woman. She and Sanna Koerant were on the ship with us when we came out and old Samuel Erasmus was the first to escape by plane. That’s where Daddy and Uncle Michael got the idea. Mumdeman says the Erasmuses were on the trek north and one brother struck it rich on the Lupa gold fields; the Erasmus brother you met is from that side of the family who were cowards and left Tanganyika early, btfore things really started looking bad. They were business people, not farmers. Farmers always stay till the last. Mumdeman says she heard from Sanna Koerant that Johan Erasmus went into the army; hot-shot general now. He became a Broederbonder: the right pedigree and money. And too good for those of us who came out poor. Kamstig elite and married the opera star. But Mumdeman says Sanna Koerant says the would-be opera star was no Joan Sutherland! Stinking rich, stripped
,
Tanganyika of its riches and then fled bfore anything had even changed. At least we stuck it out to the last. Came out with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Mumdeman says you must ask her about them when you see her again. Has lots of stories she got from Sanna Koerant. Sanna had a stroke in the middle of June, they don’t know if she’ll make it.

Bernie is studying hard for her matric exams. I’m so grateful that she has stopped watching TV You know, she used to sit and watch the test pattern btfore six o’clock when it started and then she would stay in front of that Mng until the test pattern came on again at eleven. She’s applying to SAA but I tell her she’ll have to do something about her weight. R30for her matric farewell dress. Where the money must come from I do not know. Lena is doing well and just plays her sport. She’s the only Std 8 in the first netball team and the coach thinks she’ll make the Natal team next year. Goal Defence. Bok’s business is not going so well at the moment. Because the bantus are rioting and going on there’s less interest from overseas in the curios and he’s thinking of going into insurance. It has become impossible to get stock from Angola and Mozambique, because Bok’s regular sources have disappeared in the wars. It’s a pity, because we need specially the musical figurines from Mozambique that have always been so popular. Bok has taken samples to the Zulus near Empangeni to see if they can copy those.

I’ve asked Mrs Lategan to keep all Leon’s Port Natal uniforms for you next year.

Groot-Oom Klaas showed up here on Tuesday and I gave him lunch before he went off again. Filthy and hadn’t had a bath in months. I let him sit outside in thegarden and tried to find out what was wrong with him hut he doesn’t talk much
,
looks at me as if I’m the mad one. He asked about you and I said how proud we were of you being in the Berg and that you had toured to the Cape and are going to Europe in December. He said he was hiking up to the Transvaal because it’s now getting warm up there again and then he just left. Aunt Lena may try getting him into rehab again if she sees him somewhere in Klerksdorp.