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Archive for the ‘Book Excerpts’ Category

Read an excerpt from Joanne Macgregor’s Fault Lines, the latest in the Samantha Steadman Eco-Warrior series

Fault LinesPresenting Fault Lines, the third book in the series by Joanne Macgregor:

Fault Lines can also be read as a stand-alone. Both Turtle Walk (2011) and Rock Steady (2013) were very popular and Turtle Walk was reprinted in 2014.

The eco-warriors are now in Grade 10 at Clifford House boarding school but this year, cracks are beginning to appear in their friendships, romances and their belief in themselves.

When Samantha Steadman joins ecological activists to block fracking in the Karoo, she expects that her best friends will be right alongside her in the fight. But Nomusa takes a very different view of the controversial issue and Jessie, under the influence of a glamorous new girl at the school, is too obsessed with her weight and appearance to care about ecology. Samantha feels very alone as she tries to deal with pressure from boys, school and her poison dwarf of a science teacher, all while uncovering a personal mystery from the past and struggling to save the Karoo – as well as her friendships – from splitting down their fault lines.

About the author

A born and bred Joburger, Joanne Macgregor is a Counselling Psychologist in private practice, where she works primarily with victims of trauma and crime. She started her professional life as a high school English Teacher and has always been in love with words.

Read an excerpt from Fault Lines:

Playing cool

The room looked like a beauty bomb had been detonated. Clothes lay strewn across the bed and floor, the smell of deodorant filled the air, and make-up, brushes and toiletries littered the dressing table.

Sam stood in front of the full-length mirror and narrowed her eyes at her reflection. This was her third change of clothing and she was still not satisfied. She wanted to look perfect – pretty, but casually so – for Apples’s arrival. First, she’d dressed in denim shorts and a blue tank top, but a glance at her appearance had her second-guessing her choice. Maybe it was too skimpy? Next up had been jeans and a T-shirt, but it had looked – and felt – much too hot. The midday summer sun was baking the semi-desert outside and she didn’t want to be a hot, sweaty mess when she finally saw Apples for the first time in five weeks. Off came the jeans and on went a sky-blue cotton sundress. It looked pretty and brought out the colour of her grey eyes, but it also looked like she was trying too hard, so she stripped and put the shorts and blue top back on again. It would just have to do.

Shoving the scattered clothes back into the wardrobe, she gave her sandy brown hair another quick brush, grabbed the book she had been reading and ran downstairs. From the shady front verandah she could keep an eye on the sand road which led up to the guest lodge. She’d see the tell-tale cloud of dust signalling the arrival of the boys long before she heard the car’s engine over the distant bleating of sheep. Her brother Dan and his best friend, Alistair Appleton, had caught an intercity bus from Jeffrey’s Bay to Graaff-Reinet and Sam’s father had set off an hour previously to go fetch them from the sleepy little town.

Hamish the parrot was bouncing on his perch at one end of the verandah. “Red card, red card!” he squawked, as he always did when he wanted a treat. Sam looked around, saw that a half-eaten sweetcorn cob lay on the floor below his perch and went over to retrieve it. When she offered it to the parrot, he took it between the finger-like claws of one foot and screeched, “He scores! Go Bokke!”

“You’re welcome,” said Sam.

She parked her butt in one of the cane chairs on the verandah and sipped a glass of iced water. Although way too excited to read, she kept the book open on her lap as a prop, hoping it made her look as laid-back as she didn’t feel.

“Tackle him, tackle him!”

This time Hamish was objecting to the meerkat who had crept cautiously up the side of the verandah and now stood upright with his long tail pressed against the red cement floor for balance. For a few seconds he alternated his wary gaze between Sam and the pellets of food in the dog bowl. Sam held herself still until, by some silent signal, the meerkat indicated to the rest of his family that it was safe, and a clutch of babies scrambled up onto the verandah, shepherded by another adult. They scurried over to the dog bowl and immediately began raiding the contents, seizing the pellets in their tiny hands and nibbling at them with sharp teeth.

The pups were adorable – all fuzzy hair and dark eyes and clumsy feet, clambering over one another to get to the food. Then a sharp bark sent them all scattering. Tripod, the farm’s three-legged Jack Russell terrier, was dashing across the sandy forecourt to defend her territory.

“Tackle him! Red card!”

In his excitement, Hamish had dropped the cob again and when she got up to retrieve it, Sam saw that a car was coming up the road to the lodge.

Fast as a meerkat, she ran inside to the mirror in the dresser by the front door. She bent over and then gave her hair a final flip back, applied another coat of tinted gloss to her lips and slapped her cheeks – half to give them some colour and half to smack some sense into herself. Then she ran back outside, flung herself into the chair in what she hoped was a relaxed pose and lifted her book just as the car came around the side of the massive shearing shed with a jaunty hoot.

Sam lowered the book slowly, gave a casual wave and eased herself out of the chair. The boys were already climbing out of the car, stretching their arms and cracking their necks. Tripod had now been joined by her sister, Quad, and both dogs were running circles around the car, barking madly and leaping up at the new arrivals. Even the sheep seemed excited. They ambled up to
the fence of their enclosure and bleated loudly.

“Well, check this out,” said Dan, looking unenthusiastically around at the sheep and sheds and dust.

Sam had eyes only for Apples. He was wearing skinny jeans and a T-shirt with the faded picture of a skeleton surfing an enormous wave. His thick black hair was longer than she had ever seen it and his eyes were a vivid blue against his tanned skin. He was gorgeous enough to make her forget how to speak.

“Hey, Sammikins, howzit,” said Dan, giving her a brief side-hug.

“Hey, Sam,” said Apples. He walked around the car and gave her a longer and tighter hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too. You got taller.”

“Ruck and roll, ruck and roll!” screeched Hamish from the verandah.

“Dan, Alistair, I’ll leave you boys to unpack. There’s a Coke inside with my name on it,” said Mr Steadman, heading inside.

“Man, but it’s hot here – it’s like the inside of an oven. Tell me there’s a pool, sis.”

“There’s somewhere to swim,” said Sam.

“Great, my brain’s already baking. Here, carry this for me.” Dan handed her a bag, then gave her face a double-take. “What’s that on your lips?”

Sam wiped at them self-consciously.

“And I’ve got to say,” said Dan, waving a disapproving hand at her shorts, “you’re not wearing enough fabric for a sister of mine.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think she looks great,” said Apples with a wide smile.

Sam blushed but Dan just scowled at them both.

“Get a room, you two. No – wait, what am I saying? Don’t you dare!”

“Here, I’ve got that,” said Apples, his fingers brushing Sam’s as he took the bag from her hand.

“Offside! Are you blind, ref?” Hamish yelled in such a human voice that Apples looked around to see who had spoken.

“It’s the parrot,” said Sam. “He catches me out, too.”

“Lead the way there, Sammy,” said Dan. “Is it too much to hope for air-conditioning? I think I’ve started to melt. Let’s dump this stuff in our room and get changed and then you can show us the pool.”

“You’re upstairs and to the right,” said Sam as they walked through the front doors. “In the twin room just past the crocodile.”

“The what?” asked Apples.

“We’re sharing? Ag no, man. One day, when I’m rich, I’ll have entire suites to myself. Penthouses!” said Dan, climbing the broad, carpeted stairs. “With aircon and mini-bar fridges and jacuzzis. And babes in bikinis.”

“And what?” demanded Sam, outraged.

“You must be loving this place,” said Apples to Sam, running his eyes over the gallery of stuffed heads.

“Oh, yeah, it’s my best.”

“Hey, what’s with all the dead animals?” Dan said as he and Apples reached the first floor. “It’s like Pet Cemetery, Extreme Edition in here.”

“Wait ’til you see the baboon,” Sam called after them.

Book details

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Uittreksel uit Die uurwerk kantel deur Marié Heese – nog net so lewenswaar en eg soos 30 jaar gelede

Die uurwerk kantelDie heruitgawe van Die uurwerk kantel deur Marié Heese het vanjaar op Protea Boekhuis se rakke verskyn:

In die dertig jaar sedert hierdie roman vir die eerste keer verskyn het, het dit die gunstelingwerk van menige leser geword.

Die uurwerk kantel is ’n roman van herinneringe: Die hoog bejaarde Maria du Preez, gebore Celliers, kyk terug na al die dinge wat met haar gebeur het, al die mense wat haar lewenspad gekruis het en die groot politieke gebeure wat die agtergrond vorm van die klein lewe van gewone mense. Herinneringsgrepe uit haar lewe vertel ’n gesinsverhaal wat oor vier geslagte strek.

Marié Heese se karakters leef. Dit is die lotgevalle van mense waarmee die leser hom volkome kan vereenselwig. En waar daar raakpunt met die hoofmomente in die Suid-Afrikaanse geskiedenis aangesny word – die Tweede Vryheidsoorlog, die griepepidemie van 1918, die twee wêreldoorloë, die politieke stryd rondom ’48 – word dit met kundigheid en insig gedoen. Dit is selde dat ’n mens ’n roman opneem en weet: hier is ’n werk, lewenswaar en eg, groots van opset, maar tog onpretensieus, met ’n eenvoud wat dit ’n genotvolle leeservaring maak.

“In sy kern is dit ’n psalm aan die lewe self: en daarvan sien ons deesdae wragtie te min.” (André P. Brink)

Oor die outeur

Marié Heese is in Kaapstad gebore. Sy studeer aan die Universiteite van Stellenbosch en Suid Afrika (Unisa). As taalonderwyseres het sy klas gegee aan verskeie skole en universiteite. Haar laaste betrekking was dié van Direkteur van Akademiese Personeelopleiding aan Unisa, waar sy betrokke was by die ontwikkeling van studiemateriaal vir afstandleerders. Sy publiseer kinderverhale (Die Pikkewouters van Amper-Stamperland, Avonture in Amper-Stamperland, en Ons geheim), ’n tweede roman (Tyd van beslissing), ’n jeugroman in Engels (The Box Kite Summer), ’n haikoebundel (Haiku for Africa), enkele kortverhale en etlike akademiese werke. Sy is getroud met Chris Heese. Hulle woon in Stilbaai en die Klein Karoo.

Die titel van hierdie roman is ontleen aan die gedig “Suiwer Wiskunde” van NP van Wyk Louw uit sy bundel Nuwe Verse. Lees ‘n uittreksel uit Die uurwerk kantel:

* * * * * * * *


ek was vyf toe hulle Hansie doodgemaak het
     raai dit is die eerste ding wat ek duidelik kan onthou hoe ek uitasem
oor die werf gehardloop het van die wingerd af my gesig natgesweet
onder die breërandkappie
     en toe die bedremmelde hopie swart vere op ou Daniël se slagtafel
sien lê

     Sy steek ’n oomblik vas. Dan storm sy verwoed in die rigting van die kombuis en stamp die onderdeur oop dat hy klap teen die muur. Agter die witgeskropte kombuistafel staan Trui, besig om die glibberige vlees met haar sterk, besproete hande aan stukke te sny. Kraak! breek sy ’n boud los.

     Maria skree: “Hou op! Hou op! Dis Hansie!”

     Die vrou agter die tafel skrik en sny haar hand amper met die mes raak. Die kleur stoot in haar wange op en sak dan weg sodat die sproete op haar gesig nog bruiner lyk.

     “Kind, maar jy laat ’n mens skrik! Dis maar net … ek maak maar net gestoofde hoender vir vanaand. Dominees Van Heerden kom hier eet.” Sy vryf senuweeagtig oor die gestyfde voorskoot wat haar lang rok beskerm. Nou lê daar twee smeersels bloed oor die skoon wit.

     Maria bars in trane uit. “Maar Hansie was myne! Myne! Hoekom het julle hom doodgemaak?” Sy ruk die kappie van haar kop af asof sy dit wil stukkend skeur.

     “Jou pa het gesê, slag die grootste hoenderhaan. Hansie was die grootste. Genade, kind, daar is mos kort-kort ’n broeis hoender op die erf. Maak vir jou ’n ander kuiken groot.”

     “Ek wil nie ’n ander ene hê nie,” huil Maria. “Hansie was my vriend.”

     Agter haar verdonker ’n skaduwee die streep wit sonlig wat by die oop deur inval. “Gertruida!” sê haar pa se diep stem. “Wat gaan hier aan? Hoekom huil die kind?”

     Trui staan regop, vee-vee die bloederigheid van haar hande af. “Meneer Celliers, Meneer het gesê, slag die grootste hoenderhaan. Die grootste was Hansie. Nou is Maria onderstebo.”

     ’n Frons trek sy dik wenkbroue bymekaar. Hy steek sy hand uit. “Kom,” sê hy, en loop vooruit na sy studeerkamer toe. Maria loop blindelings agterna, terwyl sy probeer om die trane met haar verfrommelde kappie af te vee. Vader hou nie daarvan as kinders huil nie.

     Hy gaan sit in die regop stinkhoutstoel wat oupa Johannes s’n was, en sy kom staan traag voor hom, voete bymekaar soos sy altyd moet maak as sy raas kry. Hy kyk haar ’n lang oomblik met sy grysblou oë aan, maar sy mond is nie kwaai nie.

     “Jy moenie vir Gertruida kwaad wees nie, my kind,” sê hy. “Sy het maar net gemaak soos Vader gesê het.”

     Maria knik. Trui maak altyd soos haar pa sê. Sy weet dit.

     “Vader het vergeet van Hansie,” sê hy. “Dit was nie my bedoeling dat hulle jou troeteldier moet slag nie. Ek is jammer.”

     Maria kyk verbaas op.

     nog altyd was dit ek wat Vader om verskoning moes vra vir lelik praat of vir lastig wees by huisgodsdiens nou vra hy verskoning van mý

     Sy maak haar mond oop om te praat, maar daar sit nog steeds ’n klip in haar keel. “Goed, Vader,” is al wat sy kan sê. Sy knip haar oë vinnig om nie weer voor hom te huil nie.

     maar ek sal nie daarvan eet nie julle sal sien ek sal nié

     ag hoekom het julle dit gedoen hoekom ek was dan so lief vir hom

     Skielik is daar ’n klop. Die deur vlieg oop en daar staan dominees Van Heerden, breed in sy rybroek, bruin gebrand van die son.

     “Dag, broer,” sê hy. Selfs sy stem klink bruin.

     “Dag, Maria.” Sy onthou skielik dat haar gesig seker vuil is en haar blou rokkie vol stof, maar sy gee beleef hand.

     “En hoe oud is jy nou, meisie? Wêreld, maar jy word groot!” Maria se stem wil nog nie maak soos sy wil hê nie. Sy steek haar hand in die lug op, vyf puntige vingers uitgestrek.

     “Vyf?” sê Dominees. “Vyf? Maar dan word jy mos regtig groot, jong!”

     vyf ja ek is vyf jaar oud ek woon hier op Schoongelegen met Vader en tante Charlotte en Trui en ou Daniël en ou Ragel en Trientjie en Kaptein ek kan al tel tot by tien Vader het my geleer maar ek is nog nie tien nie soveel so oud is ek kyk ek wys met my hand vyf

     Met vrees en ontsetting staar sy na die hand wat oopgesprei op die wit deken lê. Haar hand het skielik groot geword, en krom, en vol bruin kolletjies op die agterkant … en die naels … is geel …

     so lyk ’n ou vrou se hand so lyk tante Charlotte se hande maar ek is nie oud nie ek is vyf

     “Ek is vyf,” sê sy vir die vreemde vrou met die gestyfde wit kappie op haar kop. “Ek is vyf.” Sy herken nie haar stem nie.

     “Ja,” sê die vrou. Sy het ’n naald in haar hand. ’n Muskiet byt hoog teen Maria se arm. Sy slaap.


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“My kop en my huis is ’n rawenes” – Emma Bekker gesels oor haar debuutbundel, Skryn

SkrynSó begin “jozi-blues”, ‘n gedig uit Emma Bekker se debuutbundel, Skryn:

jy’s ’n waterskeiding, jozi,
’n wrede einde of ’n vars begin
jy’s ’n waterskeiding, jozi,
geswore vyand of boesemvriendin
ek is nie in jou gebore nie, maar in jou is ek geplant
jou einders ’n geboortemerk in my geestesoog gebrand

In Skryn verken Bekker, ‘n skrywer en masseuse, die alledaagsheid van die lewe en die mens se intertekstuele bestaan met behulp van humor en woordspel. René Bohnen het by haar aangeklop om uit te vind oor haar geïntegreerde lewensbeskouing, waarop sy antwoord:

“Dis my sjamaniese lewensuitkyk. Vir my begin die skeppingsproses soos die kook van consommé. Mens kook dit mos met al die onaansienlike dele wat die beste geur het.”

Bohnen het ook met Bekker gesels oor spesifieke gedigte en die dinge wat hul ontbloot, temas wat in die bundel ontgin word, haar skeppingsproses, die musikaliteit van haar verse en die dinge wat haar wêreld inkleur.

Lees die Versindaba-artikel om meer uit te vind oor Bekker en die wêreld waaroor sy skryf – “klein en bekend, maar magies en wyd”:

Die wêreld waaroor jy skryf is klein en bekend, maar magies en wyd – saamgesnoer die heelal wat in sterre lag en die klein messie wat ʼn roos uit die radys ontsluit. Blomme, kruie, groente en kwantumfisiese partytjiediere vertoon die digter se heerlike algemene kennis en organiese belangstelling in ʼn fisiese wêreld. Is jou kombuis ʼn laboratorium? Is daar planete in jou tuin?

Laat ek begin deur my kinders aan te haal: “Mamma, jy is baie random”. My kombuis is ‘n hart en my tuin is ‘n long. Ek is intellektueel promisku, ‘n nuuskierige aag, sitkamer-hedonis, onbeskaamde smulpaap, slaapkamerfilosoof en aandagafleibare naaister. My kop en my huis is ‘n rawenes, vol onsamehangende blink voorwerpe tussen al die strooi. Daar is kinders, katte, mense wat goed maak, musiek, boeke, instrumente, choas en liefde. My man sê dis alles waar. Hy sê ook ek is die enigste digter wat hy ken (sy pa is ook ‘n digter) wat op die naat van haar rug op haar selfoon lê en skryf. Wat was die vraag nou weer?

En dan: “laat my omkom soos kom wees” sê die ek-spreker in ʼn vitale gedig wat die sirkelgang van lewe en dood besing. Word die skrynende en die pyn wat byvoorbeeld in die kinderonkologiesaal voorkom, of in Darfoer plaasvind, hierdeur besweer? Of is dit die sjamane se werk; hulle wat “ander se siektes eet”? Die gedig oor die San Ignacio ruïnes is aangrypend, soos ook die lelike hande in ʼn ander helende gedig. Emma, hoe het jy loflied en treurlied so knus in dieselfde kissie gepak?

Hierdie antwoord bring my terug na my verknogtheid aan ironie. Ons menslike liggaam is vol teenstrydighede: ons skei uit wat ons inneem en breek af wat ons opbou. Vir die liggaam om gesond te bly, moet al hierdie prosesse in wans bly. Dit is vir my belangrik om daardie soort balans in alles wat ek doen te probeer handhaaf. Ek soek die pole naby mekaar, want ek is nuuskierig om te sien watter soort stroom hulle gaan opwek. Ek wil hê hierdie ongemaklike dinge wat so teenaan mekaar ingepas is, moet ‘n stroom van gesprek ontketen. Dis waar die sjamaniese proses van transformasie begin: die gesprekke rondom die skrynende.

Versindaba het met die aankondiging van die bundel “jozi-blues” gedeel. Lees die volle gedig:

jy’s ’n waterskeiding, jozi,
’n wrede einde of ’n vars begin
jy’s ’n waterskeiding, jozi,
geswore vyand of boesemvriendin
ek is nie in jou gebore nie, maar in jou is ek geplant
jou einders ’n geboortemerk in my geestesoog gebrand
jou gesigskring in my ingekerf soos ’n foto van my ma
ek sê trots ek’s ’n jozi-girl as iemand my sou vra

jy’s ’n waterskeiding, jozi,
’n droë woestyn of digte woud
jy’s ’n waterskeiding, jozi,
een se valbyl en ’n ander se behoud
vir dié wat jou nie ken nie, is jy ’n goudsoeker en ’n slet
hulle sê graag jy is sodom, sonder hart en sonder wet
hulle kyk graag op jou neer, en vergeet hoe hoog jy staan
as die seevlak begin styg, is dit die kuslyn wat vergaan

jy’s ’n waterskeiding, jozi,
jy spoeg mens uit of trek mens in
jy’s ’n waterskeiding, jozi,
mens wil jou haat of jou bemin
dié wat vir jou toemaak, sien net duisternis en vrees
wie hul vir jou oopstel, word van ’n blindheid genees

en dié wat dink die laaste hoop in hierdie stad kom van ’n myn
kyk verby miljoene ligte wat soos kroonjuwele skyn


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One SADF Soldier’s Fight for Paradise – Read an Excerpt from Eden’s Exiles by Jan Breytenbach

Eden's ExilesFounding commander of 32 Battalion Colonel Jan Breytenbach’s book Eden’s Exiles is an important source of information on a lesser known part of the South African Border War, also referred to as the Angola Bush War. It was first published in 1997 with a second edition out this year.

Eden’s Exiles tells the story of one soldier’s fight for paradise and describes how Breytenbach, one of the most important leaders of the SADF during that time, discovered that Military Intelligence was involved in illegal wildlife trade with Angolan political and military leader Jonas Savimbi. He writes that “all elephant and rhino poaching was conducted on an organised basis” and shares details of what went on behind the scenes as those who were supposed to protect the animals conspired with criminals.

“It was my fortune – and at the same time my misfortune – to be propelled into the forbidding harshness of this wilderness by the circumstances of war,” Breytenbach writes of his time in Angola, introducing readers to the environment and circumstances soldiers faced there.

Read the introduction to Eden’s Exiles for a taste of the book:


Introduction – Eden's Exiles


Book details

Image courtesy of 32 Battalion

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What Was Apartheid? It’s 67 Years Since DF Malan Explained what the Policy Would Entail

A History of South AfricaOn 2 September, 1948, South African Prime Minister DF Malan explained to parliament what the new policy of apartheid would entail.

The following year, the first apartheid measure was introduced: the Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Act of 1949. In 1950, an amendment was made to the Immorality Act of 1927 that “extended this restriction to all people of colour”, and the Population Regulation Act was brought into law.

The Bantu Education Act was introduced in 1953, and was followed in a steep decline in the number of black teachers in training – from 8 817 in 1954, to 5 908 in 1961. The pupil/teacher ratio in black schools rose from 40:1 in 1953 to 50:1 in 1960.

With constant commentary in the media reminding us how far we have to go, this excerpt from A History of South Africa: From Past to Present, edited by Fransjohan Pretorius, serves to reminds us how far we have come.

The extract is taken from Chapter 15: The consolidation of the apartheid state, 1948–1966 by David M Scher.

* * * * * * *

What was apartheid?

The first time that the term apartheid appeared in print appears to have been in a pamphlet issued at a conference on the missionary endeavours of the NG Church in Kroonstad in 1929. It was used in the speech delivered by the Rev. JC du Plessis of Bethlehem. In Die Burger it was first seen in 1943 in a leading article. At about this time Dr DF Malan, leader of the NP, began to use the term in Parliament to differentiate his party’s policy from the segregation plan of the ruling United Party (UP).

During the premierships of Generals JBM Hertzog and Jan Smuts, South Africa was a segregated society. Black people had extremely limited political rights, schools and residential areas were segregated, the pass law was enforced to keep black people out of the cities, and there were separate sport and recreation facilities. On the other hand, during Smuts’s second term as prime minister (1939–1948) there was an increase in the variety of social services available to black people and the level of these services was improved. Furthermore, virtually every government report, especially the report of the Fagan Commission in 1948, recommended that black people’s permanent residence in the cities should be officially recognised. However, the NP was determined to curb this line of reasoning and to extend and enforce the separation between white and black people.

Although the clever use of the apartheid slogan played a role in the NP’s victory at the polls in 1948, there was not yet unanimity on its exact meaning and implications. Eventually, in Parliament on 2 September 1948, Malan, now prime minister, explained what this new policy entailed. He said that although complete apartheid, or territorial apartheid, was the ideal, its implementation at that stage was not feasible because many sectors of the South African economy were reliant upon black labour. Nevertheless, separate spheres, not necessarily with absolute territorial divisions, would be established. Within these spheres, each population group would be able to develop fully its own ambitions and unique capabilities.

The NP government was convinced that social apartheid was crucial to the preservation and safeguarding of the white population’s identity and wellbeing. The first measure to implement social apartheid was the Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Act of 1949. This made all marriages between white people and those of other races illegal.

In 1950 this law was supplemented by an amendment to the Immorality Act of 1927. The original act had prohibited sexual relations between white and black people; the amendment extended this restriction to all people of colour. CR Swart, the Minister of Justice, stated frankly in Parliament that the main purpose of the legislation was not so much to check immorality as to prevent further “admixture of blood” between white people and other races.

To facilitate the administration of social apartheid legislation, the Population Regulation Act of 1950 was passed. It provided for the classification of the population on the basis of racial categories. The racial group of an individual was determined by physical appearance (such as skin colour), general social acceptance and repute. In accordance with this Act racially based identity documents were issued. The NP ignored warnings that this classification system would bring hardship and anguish to coloured, black and Indian South Africans. In its defence the NP said this was a small price to pay in comparison to the advantages a strictly separated society would bring.


Few people personify the suffering that the Population Registration Act caused better than Sandra Laing. Although both her parents were white, at 10 years of age Sandra was removed from her school in Piet Retief (today emKhondo) and registered as a coloured person because of her dark complexion and curly hair.

When she married a black man 10 years later, her family rejected her. Her father died without ever speaking to her again and her two brothers avoided her. After about 30 years she was eventually reunited with her mother. In 2000 she was quoted in an article in the Sunday Times as saying: “In 1966, when I was 10, the police came to take me away from the school (Deborah Retief boarding school). Mr Van Tonder, the principal, said I was not white and could not stay. I was taken to the hostel and told to pack my things. Two policemen drove me to my father’s shop in Panbult. They said I was being expelled because I looked different … My father cried. I stayed at home for two years.

“In 1976 when there were uprisings against apartheid and the education system, I turned 21 and I thought things would change. I applied for an identity document then, but it took six years before I finally got my first ID as a Coloured. Until then I could not prove who I was or find work, or open an account or do whatever a person has to do. “Through those years I longed for my family, just to hear from them. I wrote several letters but they remained unanswered … Apartheid has ended, and I would like to shake Mr Mandela’s hand for that, but it is too late for me.”

According to TE Dönges, at the time the Minister of Internal Affairs, The Group Areas Act of 1950 was the cornerstone of apartheid. The aim of this Act was to make residential separation compulsory. This meant that the Union of South Africa would be divided into thousands of residential areas so that the different races could live completely separately.

Despite Dönges’s assertion that this Act would be administered with justice and without discrimination, in practice this was not the case. It proved to be one of the cruellest Acts ever passed by the South African legislature. The Act cut across all traditional property rights and led to the eviction of thousands of black, coloured and Indian people from their homes, causing deep resentment. An example of this was District Six in Cape Town. From 1966 about 55 000 residents were forced to move from their homes near the city centre to the remote, windswept Cape Flats.

The NP government also wanted separate public facilities for white people and those of other races. The outcome of the Separate Amenities Act of 1953 and its amendments was the implementation of “petty” apartheid (as opposed to “grand” apartheid on a larger scale). Notice boards in public places such as halls, post offices, and restrooms typically read: “Counter for non-whites”; “Entrance for delivery boys”; “Queue for nonwhite servants”; or “Whites only”. In terms of these laws social and cultural apartheid was increasingly imposed in South Africa.

The implementation of apartheid in public theatres regularly led to absurd situations and in most cases exposed the compelling motives of the apartheid ideology. In 1961, when the first drive-in theatre was opened for coloureds in Wetton, near Cape Town, the parking area was divided into two sections: one for coloured theatre-goers and another for white people. This while they were all parked in their cars viewing the very same film.

In 1966 the Minister of Community Development first had to give his permission before the concert pianist Jan Volkwyn, a coloured man who had just returned to South Africa from London, could perform with the Johannesburg Symphony Orchestra in front of a coloured audience in the coloured suburb of Coronationville. The permit stated that Volkwyn could not perform as a member of the orchestra but could merely be accompanied by the orchestra. It was also agreed that he would not be allowed to mix socially with members of the orchestra, nor could he use the same dressing rooms or other facilities as they did.

Another example was when Shakespeare’s drama Othello was being presented at the Maynardville open-air theatre in Cape Town in 1968. The character in the title role is a black person, but because of apartheid regulations it had to be played by a white actor.

The NP government also advanced apartheid in the field of labour. The Native Building Workers Act of 1951 reaffirmed the “civilised labour” policy of the 1920s. It sought to protect white and coloured workers against the threat of cheap black labour. Certain sections of the Act forbade the employment, unless special exemption had been granted, of black workers by whites at their homes, for bricklaying, carpentry and other skilled work. The Native Labour (Settlement of Disputes) Act of 1953 also prohibited strikes by black workers. Although the Act did not expressly forbid black trade unions, it did not recognise them legally.

The high point of labour apartheid was reached with the passing of the Industrial Conciliation Act of 1956. It reserved several categories of work to safeguard the economic welfare of employees of any race in any undertaking, industry, trade or occupation. This legislation was in fact designed to protect the interests of white labour by preventing competition by black workers in the labour market. Black workers were trapped at the lowest level of the economic scale. One result of this law was that all lift attendants in Johannesburg were dismissed and replaced by white workers.

One of the most controversial measures passed by the NP government was the Bantu Education Act of 1953. Before 1948 most black schooling and virtually all black teachers’ training was provided at mission schools. Most NP supporters viewed this as a particularly dangerous situation, believing that liberal anti-government ideas would be pumped into young black minds by malicious outsiders. They were determined to restructure black education in accordance with the new apartheid society.

The Bantu Education Act of 1953 established state control over all black education and the state therefore also took control of existing mission schools. It is notable that the Department of National Education was not given the responsibility for black education; instead it fell under the Department of Native Affairs, headed by Dr HF Verwoerd. In the Senate’s discussion of the draft bill, Verwoerd declared that the black learner should only be equipped “to meet the demands which the economic life of South Africa will impose on him”. According to Verwoerd there was “no place for him in the European community above the level of certain forms of labour”. However, in their own communities they would, he said, have plenty of economic opportunities.

Verwoerd also suggested that black people had previously been subjected to a school system that was traditionally European, one which alienated them from their traditional social background. This had misled them by showing them the “green pastures of European society” in which they were “not allowed to graze”. According to Verwoerd it served no useful purpose to teach a black child a curriculum that was traditionally European. He went on to say that it would be unnecessary and even absurd to teach a black child mathematics, because he would never use it in practice. Black children should be trained and taught, he said, “in accordance with their opportunities in life”.

The Bantu Education Act aroused widespread protest, but Verwoerd was unmoved. The immediate result of the Act was a dramatic decline in the quality of black education. This could be seen in the decline in the number of black teachers in training from 8817 in 1954 to 5908 in 1961. At the same time the pupil/teacher ratio in black schools rose from 40:1 in 1953 to 50:1 in 1960. There was a corresponding deterioration in examination results.

The most telling criticism of Bantu Education was the fact that while the number of black children at school doubled between 1954 and 1965, there was no corresponding increase in government spending. Indeed, in this period the government expenditure on each black learner dropped considerably.

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Lees drie verse uit Kobus Lombard se jongste digbundel, Skadu oor die sonwyser

Skadu oor die sonwyserKobus Lombard se vierde digbundel, Skadu oor die sonwyser, het vanjaar by Protea Boekhuis verskyn.

Hierdie verse word gekenmerk deur ‘n sterk gevoel van plek, en speel hoofsaaklik in bekende plekke in Namibië af, onder meer Gobabis, Rundu, Swakopmund, die stad Windhoek, die Kavango- en Nossobrivier en die Namibwoestyn.

Lombard is vanjaar ook deur die Afrikaanse Taal- en Kultuurvereniging (ATKV) as Afrikoon vereer vir sy besonderse bydrae tot die Afrikaanse taal en kultuur.

In Skadu oor die sonwyser tree die digter in gesprek met intiemer ruimtes, en word die leser vroeg reeds bewus gemaak van die verbygaan van tyd. Die bundel open met die woorde:

jy word geraam
tussen ander gesigte
iewers teen ’n off-white muur

Lees die eerste drie gedigte in die bundel:

* * * * * * * *


Laaste saluut
niemand herken meer
die land van herkoms
op sy brasso-honger
lapelwapens nie
sy ongepoetsde stewels
spieël nie meer
sy parate figuur nie
die vlag wat hy salueer
is deur te veel winde
aan flarde gewapper
hy staan steeds op parade
en wag vir die uittreebevel
maar al wat hy hoor
is die knaende geklap
van die vlagpaal se tou

Whispering hope
Pa sit op sy groen stoel
ek speel sy 78-plate
whispering hope, abide with me …
Pa staar stip na die wit hond
voor die mikrofoon
wat om en om
op die draaitafel draai
Pa se oë verklam
en onverwags spring die naald
oor na die volgende groef
jou note is vasgevang op ’n balk
en met ’n G-sleutel gesluit
maar telkens as ’n stryker
jou tot lewe streel
ruik gister
soos klein hondjies in die kombuis


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Wie en wat was die Dorslandtrekkers? Uittreksel en verslag oor die Bloemfonteinse bekendstelling

Die DorslandtrekThe Thirstland TrekProtea Boekhuis direkteur Nicol Stassen se jongste boek, Die Dorslandtrek: 1874 – 1881 het vanjaar in beide Afrikaans en Engels (The Thirstland Trek: 1874 – 1881) verskyn. Madré Marais het verslag gelewer oor die bekendstelling van die boek wat in Meimaand in Bloemfontein plaasgevind het.

Stassen het vertel hoe hy sy navorsing aangepak het en waarom dit hom 11 jaar lank geneem het om die boek te skryf. Hy het ook interessante feite oor die trek gedeel.

Lees die artikel:

’n Interessante feit oor die trek is dat nie ’n enkele trekker aan dors dood is nie. Siekte, onder meer malaria en masels, het baie se lewe geëis. Stassen meen dat hulle weens ontbering ook vatbaar vir meer algemene siektes kon wees. Heelwat is ook dood nadat hulle giftige veldvrugte geëet het.

Ongeveer 700 trekkers het die tog aangepak, maar slegs ongeveer 370 mense het dit eindelik oorleef en hulle in Humpata in Angola gevestig.

Die Dorslandtrek begin met ‘n aanhaling deur Dr Emil Holub, die outeur van Seven Years in South Africa:

“Such was the end of the undertaking originated by a party of head-strong men, who, in ignorant opposition to reform, and from the motives of political ill-feeling, rushed with open eyes to the destruction that awaited them.”

Vir meer insigte tot die Dorslandtrekkers se materiële en geestelike kultuur, lees ‘n uittreksel uit hoofstuk vier getiteld: “Die leefwêreld van die Dorslandtrekkers”:

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Die leefwêreld van die Dorslandtrekkers

     Wie en wat was die Dorslandtrekkers? Hoe was die daaglikse omstandighede tydens die trek? Lawrence Green se stelling “as a whole the trekkers formed a cameo of Transvaal life and custom of last century [neëntiende eeu]” gee waarskynlik ’n goeie antwoord op hierdie vrae. Die Dorslandtrekkers se materiële kultuur en hul geestelike kultuur is twee faktore wat hul daaglikse lewe tydens die trek beïnvloed het. Verder is hul materiële en geestelike kultuur weer beïnvloed deur hul herkoms. Omdat die Dorslandtrekkers Transvaalse burgers was voor hulle getrek het, is dit te verwagte dat hulle materiële kultuur wat betref meubels, huisraad, eetgerei, kombuistoerusting, ossewaens, vee, gereedskap, implemente, jagtoerusting en voedsel nie veel verskil van dié van hulle medeburgers in Transvaal nie. Dit blyk dat daar klein verskille was ten opsigte van hul kleredrag. Die trekkers se daaglikse omstandighede het ook groot ooreenkomste getoon met dié van die Groot Trek.

     In terme van die trekkers se geestelike kultuur was daar egter groter verskille tussen die trekkers en hul Transvaalse medeburgers. Faktore wat hier ’n rol speel, is die Gereformeerde Kerk, die invloed van die Jerusalemgangers en die trekkers se opvoedingspeil.

Verarming tydens die trek

     Die boedelinventarisse van die mense wat tydens die trek gesterf het, gee ’n goeie aanduiding van die trekkers se ekonomiese omstandighede. Die grootste boedel was dié van Jan Harm Christiaan du Plessis en Maria Magdalena du Plessis (1876, aan die begin van die trek) (Tabel 1). Die totale waarde van die boedel het £813.5.6 bedra. Tóg skep die boedelinventaris geensins die indruk dat die egpaar welgesteld was nie. Om die waarheid te sê, dit skep die indruk dat die trekkers wat tydens die trek gesterf het, redelik min aan aardse goedere besit het.

     Die kleinste boedel was dié van Johannes Albertus Opperman en Cornelia Catharina Jacoba van der Schyff (1877) (Tabel 2). Die totale waarde van die boedel het £9.16 bedra, dit wil sê ’n bietjie meer as 1% van die vorige boedel.

     Die drastiese verarming wat tydens die Dorslandtrek ingetree het, kan miskien die beste geïllustreer word deur die gemiddelde waarde van die boedels van persone wat tydens die trek gesterf het (Tabel 3). In sewe jaar het dit afgeneem van £477 in 1876 tot £24 in 1883, dit wil sê tot slegs 5% van die gemiddelde waarde van die boedels sewe jaar tevore.

     Dit lyk inderdaad of die Dorslandtrekkers nogal behoeftig was en tydens die trek nog verder verarm het. Aangesien hierdie boedels dikwels onder groot gesinne verdeel is, het die individuele erfgename gewoonlik nie baie geërf nie.

Materiële kultuur

     Die boedelinventarisse van die mense wat tydens die trek gesterf het, gee ’n goeie aanduiding van die materiële kultuur van die Dorslandtrekkers. Dit is egter belangrik om te onthou dat die meeste trekkers se individuele boedels maar baie karig was en nie naastenby die verskeidenheid van besittings weerspieël wat die trekkers as ’n geheel gehad het nie.

     Die daaglikse gebruiksvoorwerpe van die Dorslandtrekkers stem grootliks ooreen met dié van die Voortrekkers tydens die Groot Trek. ’n Mens kan die volgende boeke dus met groot vrug gebruik om meer daarvan uit te vind: Kultuurskatte uit die Voortrekkertydperk (G.H. van Rooyen), Op trek (redakteur Celestine Pretorius) en Voortrekkerlewe (Rhe Carstens met die medewerking van Pieter W. Grobbelaar). Omdat ’n beskrywing van die materiële kultuur van die Dorslandtrekkers grootliks met die beskrywings in hierdie boeke sal ooreenstem en moontlik erg herhalend sal wees, word hier slegs volstaan met die materiële kultuur van die Dorslandtrekkers soos dit tydens die trek self opgeteken is.


* * * * * * * *

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Uittreksel: Lees die titelgedig van In a Burning Sea en “Goeie meisies” deur Ronelda Kamfer

In a Burning SeaIn a Burning Sea: Contemporary Afrikaans poetry in translation is saamgestel deur Marlise Joubert en bevat ‘n versameling van die beste Afrikaanse gedigte van die afgelope paar jaar, asook hul Engelse vertalings.

Die samesteller het tydens ‘n onderhoud met Louis Esterhuizen, wie se poësie ook in die bundel verskyn, verduidelik waarom die projek so belangrik is: “Die noodsaaklikheid om ʼn groter verskeidenheid van ons digters oorsee en ter plaatse aan Engelstalige lesers bekend te stel, lê dan juis daarin om so ʼn versameling van vertalings byeen te bring. Dit kan ook help dat individuele digters later ʼn volledige eie bundel in vertaling kan publiseer.”

Die bundel bevat gedigte deur nuwe én gevestigde digters en ‘n voorwoord deur die ontslape André P Brink. Die vertaling is behartig deur Charl JF Cilliers, Michiel Heyns, Leon de Kock, Tony en Gisela Ullyatt, Heilna du Plooy, Johann de Lange, Marcelle Olivier en van die skrywers self.

* * * * * * * *

Die bundel verleen sy titel van die gedig deur Breyten Breytenbach “[Hoe vaak was ons hier]” wat deur die digter na Engels vertaal is. Lees die gedig, en sy vertaling “IN A BURNING SEA”:

[hoe vaak was ons hier]

hoe vaak was ons hier tussen koeltes op die vloer
die reuk van terpentyn en van vuur
die doeke is wit want die oë is leeg
die afsydigheid van die nag
en die maan ‘n glimlag buite iewers
buite sig
die dag vergaan soos seisoene by die ruite
‘n wolk, ‘n gesig, ‘n reënblaar, dié gedig
ek wou my afdruk op jou laat
ek wou jou brandmerk met die vlammende uur
van alleen wees
geen vuur sing so mooi
soos die silwer as van jou bewegings nie
en jou treurige liggaam
ek wou daardie treurigheid uit jou haal
sodat jou liggaam oop mag breek
soos ‘n stad oopgaan
op ‘n helder landskap
vol duiwe en die vuur van bome
en waar silwer kraaie ook onsigbaar is in die nag
en die maan ‘n mond wat mens aan die brand kan steek
en dan wou ek hê dat jy kon lag
en jou bitter lyf
my hande van porselein op jou heupe
jou asem so ‘n donker pyn
‘n swaard is aan my oor
hoe dikwels was ons hier
waar net silwer skaduwees nog roer
alleen deur jou moet ek myself verwerp
deur jou alleen het ek besef hoe haweloos ek is
in ‘n brandende see


hoe often were we wrapped in coolness on the floor
the smell of turpentine and fire
the canvases white to our empty eyes
night’s indifference
and the moon a smile somewhere outside
out of sight
days decompose like seasons beyond the panes
leaves of rain, a face, a cloud, this poem
I wanted to leave my imprint on you
to brand you with the flaming hour
of being alone
no fire sings as clear
as the silver ashes of your movements
and your melancholy body
I wanted to draw the sadness from you
so that you might be revealed
the way a city opens
on a bright landscape
filled with pigeons and the fire of trees
and silver crows also out of sight in the night
and the moon a mouth that one can ignite
and then I wished that you could laugh
and your body bitter
my hands of porcelain on your hips
your breath such a dark-dark pain
a sword at my ear
how often were we here
where only silver shadows stor
only through you I had to deny myself
through you alone I knew I had no harbour
in a burning sea

* * * * * * * *

Die Kaapse digter Ronelda S Kamfer het in 2008 gedebuteer met haar bundel Noudat slapende honde. Haar poësie is ook opgeneem in Nuwe stemme 3, My ousie is ‘n blom, en Bunker Hill.

Lees Kamfer se gedig getiteld “Goeie meisies”, wat deur Cilliers na Engels vertaal is as “Good girls”:

Goeie meisies

Goeie meisies join nie gangs nie
hulle raakie pregnant op dertien nie
hulle dra nie tjappies nie
hulle roekie weed nie
hulle tik nie
hulle djol nie saam met taxi drivers nie
hulle werk nie by Shoprite nie
hulle is nie cleaners nie
goeie meisies bly nie oppie Cape flats nie

Good girls

Good girls do not join gangs
They do not get pregnant at thirteen
they do not wear chappie tattoos
they don’t smoke weed
they do not use tik
they do not jol with taxi drivers
they do not work at Shoprite
they are not cleaners
good girls do not live on the Cape Flats

* * * * * * * *

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Earth Day Excerpt: Living Earth – Understanding and Conserving Biodiversity

Living earthLewende planeetQA International has shared an excerpt from Living earth: Understanding and conserving biodiversity – the perfect read this Earth Day.

Each year on 22 April, the world celebrates Earth Day – the anniversary of what many consider the birth of the modern environmental movement in 1970.

Living earth is an encyclopedia that helps young readers understand and conserve biodiversity, including information on topics such as Forests, Deserts, Polar Regions, Mountains, Islands and Oceans, with over 360 illustrations and 100 photos.

Journey through the variety of landscapes of our planet: tropical forests, deserts, prairies, temperate forests, mountains, islands, oceans, polar regions, and more. Traveling from one great ecosystem to another, young readers will not only discover hundreds of amazing plants and animals pictured in their natural surroundings, but also become aware of their own impact on the environment. Designed for children ages 9 to 12, this easy-to-understand book has been validated by ecology experts.


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Uittreksel: ’n Plattelandse predikant word doodgeskiet in Die vrou wat alleen bly deur Karel Schoeman

Die vrou wat alleen bly: Twee draaiboekeIn die voorwoord tot Die vrou wat alleen bly: Twee draaiboeke vertel Karel Schoeman meer oor die oorsprong van hierdie twee dramatekste wat hy in 1985 geskryf het.

’n Vrou wat alleen bly het tot stand gekom in ’n tyd toe ek dikwels Sutherland en die Roggeveld besoek het, en is spesifiek gekoppel aan die dorp en die landskap soos ek dit destyds leer ken het,” skryf Schoeman oor die totstandkoming van die eerste teks in die boek.

Die verhaal speel af in ’n klein plattelandse dorpie wat skielik omvergegooi word deur haglike gebeure. Die dominee word doodgeskiet en ’n nuweling bedreig die verhoudings van die dorp se inwoners.

In hierdie uittreksel vanuit die voorspel beskryf Schoeman die predikant, Helgard, se skietdood wanneer ’n jagtog skeef loop. Daar is min dialoog in die eerste vestigingstonele wat dien as verduideliking tot die res van die toneelstuk.

* * * * * * * *


    (Die byeenkoms op die plaas: Ben, Linda, Helgard, Marian, Neels, Bettie en Alma. Hulle het met die bakkie uitgery na die rand van die eskarp (sien Toneel 11) met die bedoeling om te gaan skiet. In hierdie toneel en dié wat volg, word alles vanoor ’n afstand waargeneem, die stemme hoorbaar maar nie die woorde nie: dit is hier die algemene patroon van die handeling wat belangrik is, en die fisieke ruimte – die landskap – waarin dit plaasvind.)

    (Die skuts – Ben, Neels, Helgard en Marian – gaan uit met hul gewere, af in die klowe. Linda en Bettie bly by die bakkie agter; Alma dwaal van hulle weg om te gaan stap. Vestig sowel die skuts wat uitmekaar gaan en afsonderlik in die klowe in beweeg, as Alma waar sy teen die helling op stap en van tyd tot tyd terugkyk na die uitsig en na die mense. Dalk moet daar ’n paar geweerskote afgevuur word en moet daar – voorbereidend, plaasvervangend – gewys word hoe iets doodgemaak word: in dié geval moet Ben die skut wees. [Alhoewel dit baie woorde verg om uiteen te sit, moet hierdie reeks opnames egter redelik vlot, vinnig en strak wees. Dalk sal wat ek bedoel duideliker wees as dit ná die deurlees van die hele teks opnuut gelees word.])

    (Alma bly staan teen die heuwel om terug te kyk. ’n Geweerskoot weerklink helderder as die voriges tussen die kranse. Sny vinnig na Alma se gesig: by implikasie het sy gesien en ook verstaan wat gebeur het (Helgard se dood), alhoewel haar uitdrukking niks verraai nie. Sny dan weer terug na die vorige skoot: Alma beweeg vinnig teen die helling af, terug na die skuts. [Let wel dat dit die enigste oomblik van drama in die hele film is en dus so effektief moontlik benut moet word, sonder om egter valse verwagtings op te roep of ’n onjuiste aanvangstemming te skep.])

    (Die dorpshospitaal later die middag, op ’n afstand vanaf die straat gesien; hierdie skoot dien om dit in die konteks van die dorp te vestig, maar ook as brugskoot tussen die wye skote wat daaraan voorafgaan en die interieurs wat volg. ’n Motor draai vinnig by die hek in; buite staan daar reeds ’n aantal motors en bondel daar mense opgewonde saam.)

    (Die wagkamer van die hospitaal: Alma, Ben, Linda, Bettie en Neels wag in stilte, met ’n aantal ander mense, kerkraadslede (onder wie Hennie), ens., wat gedemp onder mekaar gesels. Linda bedek haar gesig; Ben vertoef vir ’n oomblik om met sy pa te praat, en loop verder senuweeagtig en gespanne op en neer; Neels hou Bettie se hand vas (of dalk andersom).

Ben aarsel vir ’n oomblik naby Linda en sit sy hand effens huiwerig op haar skouer, maar sy neem geen notisie nie, en hy trek weer terug. Op die agtergrond is daar die gevoel van ’n noodgeval wat die hospitaaltjie nie eintlik kan hanteer nie.)

    (Dieselfde, ’n uur of wat later. Die dokter kom in, en Hennie (as senior ouderling), nader hom vraend. Die dokter skud sy kop.)

    Dokter: Nee wat, oom Hennie, dit spyt my, ons kon niks doen nie. (Hulle draai weg terwyl hy verder praat.) Ons het die ambulans uit Worcester laat kom, maar … (Met dieselfde huiwering kom Ben weer na Linda toe waar sy roerloos bly sit het.)

    Ben: Linda, ek sal moet teruggaan plaas toe, daar’s niemand wat daar kan aangaan nie … (Sy reageer nie.) Kom, ek sal jou na my ma-hulle toe vat, dan kan jy vanaand by hulle bly.

    Linda (met ’n skielike beslistheid): Ek wil nie na jou ouers toe gaan nie. (Soek ’n uitvlug.) Ek sal by Alma bly (Vraend:) Alma?

    Alma (teruggeroep na die werklikheid; staan op): Ja, goed. Kom ons loop.

(Die groepie staan op en beweeg na buite.)


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