Bosman rides again
YOU CAN'T stop progress. Yet sometimes it almost seems a Higher Power is opposed to it. The other night I was at a reading of literary works in a Berea restaurant where my old pal Spyker Koekemoer (aka Pat Smythe, rugby raconteur) produced the story of a long-ago feud in a Free State dorp, which rankles to this day.
Spyker had recently returned from Smithfield. There he met some of the local citizens, including the rock-solid Oom Doors who spoke with real hurt of the way the town's church had been demolished.
The fact that it happened long ago in the almost forgotten days of the Union of South Africa, when we were ruled by a Governor-General, only lends force to the story.
It seems a group of townsfolk began agitating for the ancient church to be replaced by something bigger and more modern. They won control of the local kerkraad and the decision was taken.
Those opposed petitioned the Governor-General in Pretoria, who ordered that the old church should be saved. But before his order could be put into effect, the Governor-General suddenly died.
Those for the new church interpreted this as a sign from Above. Those against took the matter to court. The church's national Synod then intervened to stop this unseemliness and eventually ruled in favour of the modernisers.
A large, new, architecturally ugly church was built. Then it was time to demolish the old one.
"'They began with hammers, chisels, picks and shovels, to no avail. They resorted eventually to dynamite, firstly one stick, and then two. The cloth that clothed our lives was too well woven and shrugged off their efforts with disdain,' he (Oom Doors) continued.
"'Eventually,' he said quietly, 'the dynamite won and the old church rumbled as she crumbled under the power of the blast ... which simultaneously caused every window in the new church to shatter in a myriad of shards' A very satisfied smile creased his laughter lines, just a little.
"'Let us thank Our Lord,' he said, his voice no more than a whisper, 'for allowing us only 26 letters to use in our language; more would only have enticed our imagination to drive us further apart.'"
Pat now has the story on his Spyker Koekemoer blogsite. He is a devotee of Herman Charles Bosman, whose short stories so reveal the Afrikaner soul in the English language, and is on a mission to capture and record as much as he can of life on the platteland.
It's a worthy mission. You do still meet characters such as Oom Doors. And I myself now feel angry and aggrieved about that church business in Smithfield.
The demon booze
THE ABOVE recalls a discussion I once had with an Oom Doors type in northern Zululand. He had invited a colleague and I to join him in the local bar.
He ordered beers for my colleague and myself and Coca-Cola for himself. I remarked that he must be a teetotaler.
That was not entirely true, he said. He was very partial to brandy. In fact he drank brandy in doubles.
"But you know what happens when I drink a double brandy?"
"What?"
"I drink another one."
"I see."
"And you know what happens when I've drunk that second one?"
"What?"
"I drink another one. And you know what happens then?"
"You drink another one."
"Yes. And you know what happens then?"
"You drink another one."
"No. I start chasing women."
Then he launched into the account of how, after several double brandies, he had successfully pursued a woman. Unfortunately, however, his wife caught them in flagrante delicto. She started divorce proceedings.
"This was terrible. I didn't want to be divorced. I love my wife. But she insisted. We were right there on the courthouse steps when I persuaded her to change her mind. You know how I did it?"
"How?"
"I said to her: 'If God could forgive King David for his adultery, who are you not to forgive me for my adultery?' She thought about it. Then she told her lawyer to withdraw the case. That's why I'm drinking Coke."
I offer this to Spyker Koekemoer.
Tailpiece
VAN DER MERWE got thrown out of the casino. He completely mistook the purpose of the crap table.
Last word
It was no wonder that people were so horrible when they started life as children.
GRAHAM LINSCOTT
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