Global
Lay-Correspondent Report on South Africa
6
The Natives
are Restless
I always wondered where the term ‘the natives are
restless’ came from, not to imply that it was locally grown, but
it certainly described the end of the native's work week out in
the country where we lived. Homemade beer in excess, lots of
dancing and releasing of tension. They let me join in as long as
things weren’t out of control (as was sometimes the case) but
they never let me drink the beer. I liked to sit on the fringe
of the action by the fire and just enjoy watching them, these
fun loving people (by nature) suppressed to the point of
frustration and despair. They lived in shacks at the lower end
of our landlord’s property without electricity or water. The
floors of the shacks were dirt. Most had very little if any
furniture at all. It was a desperately bleak existence. It was
obvious to me … the beer made life bearable somehow in the vast
darkness of their circumstances.
One night, one of the men showed up at our door
pleading for help, “Please master, please, help me.” (I heard
him say), he was bleeding profusely from a nasty gash on the
side of his head. Dad immediately shut and locked our front door
then called the police. I couldn’t believe he refused the man. I
didn’t understand. Two policemen came (one white, one black);
they assured us that they would take care of him. They loaded
him into the back of their truck and left. I don’t remember if
Dad ever explained to me why he wouldn’t help, but I recall
seeing the man the next day, limping down the dirt road a mile
or so from our house. His head was caked with blood and dirt.
The policemen took care of him alright they tossed him on the
side of the road just minutes from our house.
Occasionally frustration (sometimes just the
alcohol) would fuel fights like the one where our maid Florence
kicked out her husband’s teeth, at which point I would usually
leave and go back to our house, feeling like a true outsider
from their world. I feel even more like an outsider today as I
read about the same old frustration, despair and anger still
seething in the masses, ones who don’t have the means to extract
themselves from their condition so resentment and indignation
fester, growing strong, bold and painful once more.
