The Sun Between Their Feet (42 page)

And so he begins to dream. It is strange that when he was in the village and made such dreams they were far less lofty and demanding than the one he makes now; yet, even in the ignorance of the village, he was ashamed of those small and childish dreams, while now, although he knows quite well
what he is thinking is nonsense, the bright pictures moving through his mind grip him so fast he walks like a mad person, open-mouthed, his eyes glazed. He sees himself in one of the big streets where the big houses are. A white man stops him and says: I like you, I wish to help you. Come to my house. I have a fine room which I do not use. You may live in it, and you may eat at my table and drink tea when you like. I will give you money when you need it. I have many books; you may read them all and become educated … I am doing this because I do not agree with the colour bar and wish to help your people. When you know everything that is in the books, then you will be a man of light, just the same as Mr Mizi, whom I respect very much. Then I will give you enough money to buy a big house, and you may live in it and be a leader of the African people, like Mr Samu and Mr Mizi …

This dream is so sweet and so strong that Jabavu at last stands under a tree, gazing at nothing, quite bewildered. Then he sees a policeman cycling slowly past and looking at him, and it does not mix well with the dream, and so he makes his feet walk on. The dream's sad and lovely colours are all around him still, and he thinks: The white people are so rich and powerful, they would not miss the money to give me a room and books to read. Then a voice says: But there are many others beside me, and Jabavu shakes himself crossly because of that voice. He cannot bear to think of others, his hunger for himself is so strong. Then he thinks: Perhaps if I go to school in the Township and tell them how I learned to read and write by myself they will take me in … But Jabavu is too old for school, and he knows it. Slowly, slowly, the foolish sweetness of the dreaming leaves him, and he walks soberly down the road to the Township. He has no idea at all of what he will do when he gets there, but he thinks that something will happen to help him.

It is now early in the evening, about five, and it is a Saturday. There is an air of festivity and freedom, for yesterday was payday, and people are looking how best to spend their money. When he reaches the market he lingers there, tempted to
spend his shilling on some proper food. But now it has become important to him, like a little piece of magic. It seems to him he has been in the city for a very long time, although it is only four days, and all that time the shilling has been in his pocket. He has the feeling that if he loses it he will lose his luck. Also there is another thought – it took his mother so long to save it. He wonders that in the kraal a shilling is such a lot of money, whereas here he could spend it on a few boiled mealies and a small cake. He is angry with himself because of this feeling of pity for his mother, and mutters: ‘You big fool, Jabavu,' but the shilling stays in his pocket and he wanders on, thinking how he may find something to eat without asking Betty, until he reaches the Recreation Hall, which has people surging all around it.

It is too early for the Saturday dancing, and so he loiters through the crowd to see what is happening. Soon he sees Mr Samu with some others at a side door, and he goes closer with the feeling: Ah, here is someone who will help me. Mr Samu talks to a friend, in the way in which Jabavu recognizes, as if that friend is not one person but many; and Mr Samu's eyes move from one face near to him to another, and then on, always moving, as if it is with his eyes that he holds them, gathers them in, makes them one. And his eyes rest on Jabavu's face, and Jabavu smiles and steps forward – but Mr Samu, still talking, is looking at someone else. Jabavu feels as if something cold hit his stomach. He thinks, and for the first time: Mr Samu is angry because I ran away that morning; and at once he walks jauntily away, saying to himself: Well, I don't care about Mr Samu, he's nothing but a big talker, these men of light, they are just fools, saying Please, Please to the Government! Yet he has not gone a hundred yards when his feet slow, he stops, and then his feet seem to turn him around so that he must go back to the Hall. Now the people are crowding in at the big door, Mr Samu has gone inside, and Jabavu follows at the back of the crowd. By the time he has got inside the hall is full, and so he stands at the back against the wall.

On the platform are Mr Samu, the other man who was with him in the bush, and a third man, who is almost at once introduced as Mr Mizi. Jabavu's eyes, dazed with so many people all together, hardly see Mr Mizi's face, but he understands this is a man of great strength and cleverness. He stands as straight and tall as he can so that Mr Samu may see him, but Mr Samu's eyes again move past without seeing, and Jabavu thinks: But who is Mr Samu? Nothing beside Mr Mizi … And then he looks at how these men are dressed, and sees their clothes are dark and sometimes old, sometimes even with patches on them. There is no one in this hall who has as bright and smart clothes as Jabavu himself, and so the small, unhappy child in Jabavu quietens, appeased, and he is able to stand quietly listening.

Mr Mizi is talking. His voice is powerful, and the people on the benches sit motionless, leaning forward, and their faces are full of longing, as if they are listening to a beautiful story. Yet what Mr Mizi says is not at all beautiful. Jabavu cannot understand, and asks a man near him what this meeting is. The man says that the men on the platform are the leaders for the League for the Advancement of the African People; that they are now discussing the laws which treat Africans differently from the white people … they are very clever, he says; and can understand the laws as they are written, which it takes many years to do. Later the meeting will be told about the management of land in the reserves, and how the Government wishes to reduce the cattle owned by the African people, and about the pass laws and also many other things. Jabavu is shown a piece of paper with numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6, and opposite these numbers are written words like Destocking of Cattle. He is told this piece of paper is an Agenda.

First Mr Mizi speaks for a long time, then Mr Samu, then Mr Mizi again, and sometimes the people in the hall seem to growl with anger, sometimes they sigh and call out ‘Shame!' and these feelings, which are like the feelings of one person, become Jabavu's also, and he, too, claps and sighs and calls
out ‘Shame, Shame!' Yet he hardly understands what is said. After a long time Mr Mizi rises to speak on a subject which is called Minimum Wage, and now Jabavu understands every word. Mr Mizi says that not long ago a member of the white man's Parliament asked for a law which would make one pound a month a minimum wage for African workers, but the other members of Parliament said ‘No,' it would be too much. And now Mr Mizi says he wishes every person to sign a petition to the members of Parliament to reconsider this cruel decision. And when he says this, every man and woman in the hall roars out ‘Yes, yes.' and they clap so long that Jabavu's hands grow tired. And now he is looking at those great and wise men on the platform, and every nerve of his body longs to be like them. He sees himself standing on a platform while hundreds of people sigh and clap and cry ‘Yes, yes!'

And suddenly, without knowing how it has happened, his hand is raised and he has called out, ‘Please, I want to speak.' Everybody in the hall has turned to look, and they are surprised. There is complete silence in the hall. Then Mr Samu stands up quickly and says, after a long look at Jabavu: ‘Please, this is a young friend of mine, let him speak.' He smiles and nods at Jabavu, who is filled with immense pride, as if a great hawk carried him into the sky on its wings. He swaggers a little as he stands. Then he speaks of how he came from his kraal only four days ago, how he outwitted the recruiters who tried to cheat him, how he had no food and fainted with hunger and was handled like an ox by the white doctor, how he has searched for work … The words flow to Jabavu's tongue as if someone very clever stood behind his shoulder and whispered them into his ear. Some things this clever person does not mention, such as how he stole clothes and shoes and food, and how he fell in with Betty and spent the night in the shebeen. But he tells how in the white woman's garden he had been rudely ordered to the back, ‘which is the right place for niggers' – and this Jabavu tells with great bitterness – and how he had been offered twelve shillings a month and his food. And as Jabavu speaks the people in the hall murmur. ‘Yes, yes.'

Jabavu is still full of words when Mr Samu stands up, interrupting him, saying: ‘We are grateful to our young friend for what he has said. His experiences are typical for young men coming to town. We all know from our own lives that what he says is true, but it does no harm to hear it again.' And with this he quietly introduces the next subject, which is how terrible it is that Africans must carry so many passes, and the meeting goes on. Jabavu is upset, for he feels that it is not right the meeting should simply go on to something else after the ugly things he has told them. Also, he has seen that some of the people, in turning back to the platform, have smiled at each other, and that smile stung his pride. He glances at the man next to him, who says nothing. Then, since Jabavu continues to look and smile, as if wanting words, the man says pleasantly: ‘You have a big mouth, my friend.' At this, such rage fills Jabavu that his hand lifts by itself, and very nearly hits the man, who swiftly clasps Jabavu's wrist and murmurs: ‘Quiet, you will make big trouble for yourself. We do not fight here.' Jabavu mutters in anguish: ‘My name is Jabavu, not Big Mouth,' and the man says: ‘I did not speak of your name, I do not know it. But in this place we do not fight, for the men of light have trouble enough without that.'

Jabavu struggles his way towards the door, for it is as if his ears were full of mocking laughter, and Big Mouth, Big Mouth, repeated often. Yet the people are standing packed in the door and he cannot go out, though he tries so that he disturbs them, and they ask him to be quiet. And while Jabavu stands there, angry and unhappy, a man says to him: ‘My friend, what you said spoke to my heart. It is very true.' And Jabavu forgets his bitterness and at once is calm and full of pride; for he cannot know that this man spoke only so as to see his face clearly, for he comes to all such meetings pretending to be like the others in order to return later to the Government office which wishes to know who of the Africans are troublemakers and seditious. Before the meeting is over, Jabavu has told this friendly man his name and his village, and how much he admires the men of light, information which is very welcome.

When Mr Samu declares the meeting closed, Jabavu slips out as quickly as he can and goes out to the other door where the speakers will come. Mr Samu smiles and nods when he sees him, and shakes his hand, and introduces him to Mr Mizi. None congratulates him on what he has said, but rather look at him like village elders who think: That child may grow up to be useful and clever if his parents are strict with him. Mr Samu says: ‘Well, well, my young friend, you haven't had good luck since you came to the city, but you make a mistake if you think yours is an exceptional case.' Then, seeing Jabavu's dismayed face, he says, kindly: ‘But why did you run away so early and why did you not go to Mr Mizi who is glad to help people who need help?' Jabavu hangs his head and says that he ran away so early because he wished to reach the city soon and did not want to disturb their sleep for nothing, and that he could not find Mr Mizi's house.

Mr Mizi says: ‘Then come with us now, and you will find it.' Mr Mizi is a big man, strong, heavy-shouldered. If Jabavu is like a young bull, clumsy with his own strength, then Mr Mizi is like an old bull who is used to his power. His face is not one a young man may easily love, for there is no laughter in it, no easy warmth. He is stern and thoughtful and his eyes see everything. But if Jabavu does not love Mr Mizi, he admires him, and at every moment he feels more like a small boy, and as this feeling of dependence, which is one he hates and makes him angry, grows in him, he does not know whether to run away or stay where he is. He stays, however, and walks with a group of others to Mr Mizi's house.

It is a house similar to that of the Greek. Jabavu knows now that compared with the houses of the white men it is nothing, but the front room seems very fine to him. There is a big mirror on the wall, and a big table covered with soft green stuff that has thick, silky tassles dangling, and around this table, many chairs. Jabavu sits on the floor as a mark of respect, but Mrs Mizi, who is welcoming her guests, says kindly: ‘My friend, sit on this chair,' and pushes it forward for him. Mrs Mizi is a tiny woman, with a merry face and eyes that dart everywhere
looking for something to laugh at. It seems that there is so much laughter in Mrs Mizi that there is no room for it in Mr Mizi, while Mr Mizi thinks so much he has taken all thought from Mrs Mizi. Seeing Mrs Mizi alone it is hard to believe she should have a big, stem, clever husband; while seeing Mr Mizi, one would not think of his wife as small and laughing. Yet together they fit each other, as if they make one person.

Jabavu is so full of awe at being here that he knocks over the chair and feels he would like to die of shame, but Mrs Mizi laughs at him with such good nature that he begins to laugh too, and only stops when he sees that this gathering of friends is not only for friendship, but also for serious talking.

Seated around the table are Mr Samu and Mrs Samu and the brother, and Mr Mizi and Mrs Mizi and a young boy who is the Mizis' son. Mrs Mizi sets tea on the table, in nice white cups, and plenty of little cakes with pink sugar. The young boy drinks one cup of tea quickly, and then says he wishes to study and goes next door with a cake in his hand, while Mrs Mizi rolls up her eyes and complains that he will study himself to death. Mr Mizi, however, tells her not to be a foolish woman, and so she sits down, smiling, to listen.