The Sun Between Their Feet (38 page)

Jabavu shrinks away – hau! but what women these are! ‘I do not lie,' he says, angrily. ‘It is as I have said.' And he begins to walk away from her, thinking: I was a fool to speak to her, I do not understand the ways of these girls.

And she, watching him, notices his feet, which are bare, and they have certainly never worn shoes – he is telling the truth. And in this case – she makes up her mind in a flash. A raw boy who can come to town, steal so cleverly without being caught, this is talent that can be turned to good use. She goes after him, says politely: ‘Tell me how you did the stealing, it was very cunning.'

And Jabavu's vanity spurs him to tell the story exactly as it happened, while she listens thoughtfully. ‘You should not be wearing those clothes now,' she says at last. ‘For the white missus will have told the police, and they will be watching the boys new to town in case they have the clothes.'

Jabavu asks in surprise: ‘How can they find one pair of trousers and one shirt in a city full of shirts and trousers?'

She laughs and says: ‘You know nothing, there are as many police watching us as flies around porridge; you come with me, I will take those clothes and give you others, as good as those, but different.' Jabavu thanks her politely but edges away. He has understood she is a thief. And he does not think of himself as a thief – he has stolen today, but he hardly gives it that name. Rather he feels as if he has helped himself to crumbs from the rich man's table. After a
pause he enquires: ‘Do you know Mr Mizi of 33 Tree Road?'

For the second time she is surprised into silence; then distrust fills her, and she thinks: This man either knows nothing at all or he is very cunning. She says, sarcastically, in the same tone that the policeman in the Pass Office used: ‘You have fine friends. And how should I know a great man like Mr Mizi?'

But Jabavu tells her of the encounter at night in the bush of Mr and Mrs Samu and the others, of what they said, and how they admired him for learning to read and write by himself, and gave him Mr Mizi's name.

At last this girl believes him, and understands, and she thinks: ‘Certainly I must not let him slip away. He will be of great help in our work.' And there is another thought, even more powerful: Heh! but he is handsome …

Jabavu asks, politely: ‘And do you like these people, Mr Samu and Mrs Samu and Mr Mizi?'

She laughs scornfully and with disappointment, for she wishes him only to think of her. ‘You mad? You think I am mad too? Those people stupid. They call themselves leaders of the African people, they talk and talk, they write letters to the Government: Please sir, please. Give us food, give us houses, let us not carry passes all the time and the Government throws them a shilling after years of asking and they say, Thank you, sir. They are fools.' And then she sidles up to him, lays her hand inside his elbow, and says: ‘Besides, they are skellums – did you not see that? You come with me, I help you.'

Jabavu feels the warm hand inside his bare arm, and she swings her hips and makes her eyes soft. ‘You like me, handsome?' And Jabavu says: ‘Yes, very much,' and so they walk down the road to the Native Township and she talks of the fine things there are to do, of the films and the dances and the drinking. She is careful not to talk of the stealing or of the gang, in case he should be frightened. And there is another reason: there is a man who leads the gang who frightens her. She thinks: If this new clever man likes me, I will make him marry me, I will leave the gang and work with him alone.

Because her words are one thing and what she is thinking another, there is something in her manner that confuses Jabavu, and he does not trust her; besides, that dizziness is coming back in waves, and there are moments when he does not hear what she says.

‘What is the matter?' she asks at last, when he stops and closes his eyes.

‘I have told you that I am hungry,' he says out of the darkness around him.

‘But you must be patient,' she says lightly, for it is such a long time since she has been hungry she has forgotten how it feels. She becomes irritated when he walks slowly, and even thinks: This man is no good, he's not strong for a girl like me -and then she notices that Jabavu is staring at a bicycle with a basket on the back, and as he is reaching out his arm for the bread in the basket, she strikes down his arm.

‘You crazy?' she asks in a high, scared voice, glancing around. For there are people all around them. ‘I am hungry,' he says again, staring at the loaves of bread. She quickly takes some money from a place in the front of her dress, gives it to the vendor, and hands a loaf of bread to Jabavu. He begins to eat as he stands, so hungrily that people turn to stare and laugh, and she gazes at him with shocked, big eyes and says: ‘You are a pig, not a smart boy for me.' And she walks away ahead of him thinking: This is nothing but a raw kraal boy. I am crazy to like him. But Jabavu does not care at all. He eats the bread and feels the strength coming back to him, and the thoughts begin to move properly through his mind. When he has finished the bread he looks for the girl but all he can see is a yellow dress far down the road, and the skirt of the dress is swinging in a way that reminds him of the mockery of her words: ‘You are a pig …' Jabavu walks fast to catch her; he comes up beside her and says: ‘Thank you, my friend, for the bread. I was very hungry.' She says, without looking around, ‘Pig, dog without manners.' He says: ‘No, that is not true. When a man is so hungry, one cannot talk of manners,' ‘Kraal boy,' she says, swinging her hips, but thinking: ‘It does no
harm to show him I know more than he does.' And then says Jabavu, full of bread and new strength: ‘You are nothing but a bitch woman. There are many smart girls in this city, and as pretty as you.' And with this he marches off ahead of her and is looking around for another pretty girl when she runs up to him.

‘Where are you going?' she asks, smiling. ‘Did I not say I would help you?'

‘You shall not call me kraal boy,' says Jabavu magnificently, and with real strength, since he truly does not care for her more than the others he sees about him, and so she gives him a quick, astonished look and is silent.

Now that Jabavu's stomach is filled he is looking around him with interest again, and so he asks questions continually and she answers him pleasantly. ‘What are those big houses with smoke coming out?' ‘They are factories.' ‘What is this place full of little bits of garden with crosses and stones shaped like children with wings?' ‘It is the cemetery for the white people.' So, having walked a long way, they turn off the main road into the Native Township, and the first thing Jabavu notices is that while in the city of the white people the soil lies hidden under grass and gardens or asphalt, here it billows up in thick red clouds, gives the sun a dulled and sullen face, and makes the trees look as if a swarm of locusts had passed, so still and heavy with dust are they. Also, there are now such swarms of Africans all around him that he has to make himself strong, like a rock in the middle of a swift river. And still he asks questions, and is told that this big, empty place is for playing football, and this for wrestling, and then they come to the buildings. Now these are like the house of the Greek, small, ugly, bare. But there are very many, and close together. The girl strolls along, calling out greetings in her high, shrill voice, and Jabavu notices that sometimes she is called Betty, sometimes Nada, sometimes Eliza. He asks: ‘Why do you have so many names?' and she laughs and says: ‘How do you know I am not many girls?' And now, and for the first time, he laughs as she does, high and hard, doubling up his body, for it
seems to him a very good joke. Then he straightens and says: ‘I shall call you Nada,' and she says quickly: ‘My village name for a village boy!' At once he says: ‘No, I like Betty,' and she presses her thighs against his and says: ‘My good friends call me Betty.'

He says he wishes to see all this town now, before it grows dark, and she says it will not take long. ‘The white man's town is very big and it takes many days to see it. But our town is small, though we are ten, twenty, a hundred times as many.' Then she adds: ‘That is what they call justice,' and looks to see the effect of the word. But Jabavu remembers that when Mr Samu used it it sounded different, and he frowns, and seeing his frown she leads him forward, talking of something else. For if he does not understand her, she understands that what the men of light – for this is how they are called – have said to Jabavu marked his mind deeply, and she thinks: If I am not careful he will go to Mr Mizi and I will lose him and the gang will be very angry.

When they pass Mr Mizi's house, number 33 Tree Road, she makes some rude jokes about him, but Jabavu is silent, and Betty thinks: Perhaps I should let him go to Mr Mizi? For if he goes later, it may be dangerous. Yet she cannot bear to let him go, already her heart is soft and heavy for Jabavu. She leads him through the streets very kindly and politely, answering all his questions, though their foolishness often makes her impatient. She explains that the better houses, which have two rooms and a kitchen, are for the rich Africans, and the big, strangely-shaped houses are called Nissen huts, where twenty single men sleep, and these old shacks are called the Old Bricks, and they are for those who earn only a little, and this building here is the Hall, for meetings and dances. Then they reach a big open space which is filled with people. It is the market, and policemen are everywhere, walking with whips in their hands. Jabavu is thinking that one small loaf of bread, although it was white and fine to eat, was not much for a stomach as long empty as his, and he is looking at the various foodstuffs when Betty says: ‘Wait, we shall eat better than this
later.' And Jabavu looks at the people who buy some groundnuts or a few cooked maize-cobs for their supper, and already feels superior to them because of what Betty says.

Soon she pulls him away, for she has lived so long here that she cannot find interest, as he does, in watching the people; and now they walk away from the centre and she says: ‘Now we are going to Poland.' Her face is ready for laughter, Jabavu sees it is a joke and asks: ‘And what is the joke in Poland?'

She says, quickly, before her laughter gets too strong: ‘In the war of the white people that has just finished, there was a country called Poland, and there was a terrible fight, with many bombs, and so now we call where we are going Poland because of the fights and the trouble there.' She lets her laughter loose, but stops when she sees Jabavu stern and silent. He is thinking: I do not want fighting and trouble. Then she says in a little, foolish voice, like a child: ‘And so now we are going to Johannesburg,' and he, not wanting to appear afraid, asks: ‘What is the joke in this?' She says: ‘This place is also called Johannesburg because there are fights and trouble in the townships of Johannesburg.' And now she bends double with laughing, and Jabavu laughs from politeness. Then, seeing it is only politeness, she says, wishing to impress him, and with a big important sigh: ‘Ah, yes, these white people, they tell us: “See how we saved you from the wicked fighting of the tribes; we have brought you peace” – and yet see how they make wars and kill so many people one cannot understand the numbers when they are written in the newspaper.' This she has heard Mr Mizi say at a meeting; and when she notices that Jabavu is impressed, she goes on proudly: ‘Yes, and that is what they call civilization!' At this Jabavu asks: ‘I do not understand, what is civilization?' And she says, like a teacher: ‘It is how the white men live, with houses and bioscope and cowboys and food and bicycles.' ‘Then I like civilization,' says Jabavu, from the pulse of his deepest hunger, and Betty laughs amiably and says: ‘Heh, but you are one big fool, my friend, I like you.'

They are now in an evil-looking place where there are many
tall brick shelters crowded together in rows, and shacks made of petrol tins beaten flat, or of sacks and boxes, and there is a foul smell. ‘This is Poland Johannesburg,' says Betty, walking carefully in her nice shoes through the filth and ordure. And the staring and horrified eyes of Jabavu see a man lying huddled in the grass. ‘Has he nowhere to sleep?' he asks, stupidly, but she pulls at his arm and says: ‘Fool, leave him, he is sick with the drink.' For now he is on her territory, and afraid, she uses a more casual tone with him, she is his superior. Jabavu follows her, but his eyes cannot leave that man who looks as if he were dead. And his heart, as he follows Betty, is heavy and anxious. He does not like this place, he is scared.

But when they turn into a small house that stands a little by itself, he is reassured. The room they stand in is of bare red brick, with a bench around the walls and some chairs at one end. The floor is of red cement, and there are streamers of coloured paper festooned from nails in the rafters. There are two doors, and one of these opens and a woman appears. She is very fat, with a broad, shiny black face and small, quick eyes. She wears a white cloth bound round her head, and her dress is of clean pink cotton. She holds a nice clean little boy by one hand. She looks in enquiry at Betty, who says: ‘I am bringing Jabavu, my friend, to sleep here tonight.' The woman nods and gazes at Jabavu, who smiles at her. For he likes her, and thinks: ‘This is a nice woman of the old kind, decent and respectable, and that is a nice little boy.'

He goes into a room off the big one with Betty, and it is as well he does not say what he is thinking, for it is probable that she would have given him up as a fool beyond teaching, for while it is true that this woman, Mrs Kambusi, is kind in her way, and respectable in her way, it is also true that her cleverness has enabled her to run the most profitable shebeen in the city for many years, and only once has she been taken to the courts, and that in the capacity of a witness. She has four children, by different fathers, and the three elder children have been sent by this wise and clever woman far away to
Roman school where they will grow up educated with no knowledge of this place where the money comes for their schooling. And the little boy will be going next year also, before he is old enough to understand what Mrs Kambusi does. Later she intends that the children will go to England and become doctors and lawyers. For she is very, very rich.