South Africa 1978 - 1980, Stories from my youth: Clouds, Second hand and the Antiques shop.

Clouds, Second hand and the Antiques shop.

CLOUDS

Its a stunning landscape! the expanse of it, the giant sky and vast fields and mountains scattered with vegetation clinging to life, barely green. Yellows, browns reds and orange against a vast blue sky. Staring out the window of a moving car the fresh wind in my face. 8 maybe 9 years old we were racing home towards the village in the middle of nowhere, our home of old houses snuggled in a canopy of trees. We reached the hill and saw a van parked up on the side of the road, a body to the rear of it. we stopped to see if they needed any help. You do that kind of thing in the countryside. Me and my father, we walked over from the car. An old man lying rigid like he had fallen from a coffin, dead, arms straight by his side on the ground, black as ash and not a mark on him. The farmer stood over him with his man, rifle by his side. The van was packed with middle aged men all black clinging to the sides of the van sitting uncomfortably on its sides like they were about to jump out or had only just jumped in. “What happened?” asked my farther. “He was struck by lighting” said the farmer. The men looked terrified and averted their eyes their knuckles white with fear holding onto the van. The farmer glared at us. We knew our concern was not welcome. My father made a polite goodbye and we moved on back to the car. The wind in my face stareing at the wide open space the beautiful day I turned to my father, “Dad there are no clouds in the sky!”. We drove on in horrified silence.


SECOND HAND

I don’t know what could have possessed my father how he could possible have been stuck with this “bright idea”. I know we were struggling financially, maybe because we were already a family of 6 , maybe because we had moved home so much. All the costs of it, the bills mounting up. He gathered together all the clothes that he, my mother, me and my three siblings no longer used and stuffed them into the boot of the car. “Climb in we going to sell some second had clothes to a captive audience”. It wasn’t a very long drive. The camp was basically right next door to the village. It seemed remarkable to me at the time that I had had no previous idea of its existence. If you were black in South Africa it was illegal to stay in the towns after a 9pm curfew unless you had been provided accommodation by your employer and even then you were not allowed to roam the streets. If you worked in the towns but had nowhere to stay the night you were obliged to decamp to one of these camps often situated out on the middle on nowhere. There must have been hundreds of them all over the country. Surrounded by high barbed wire fences. Guards at the gates with guns. We drove up to the gates and the guards wouldn’t let us in, my father insisted so the obliged and into the unknown world we went. My father jumped excitedly out of the car and unloaded the boot of clothes onto the floor. We, my sister and two brothers jumped out excited to assist my father in his venture. Could he have imagined that we his darling children all white and blond with wide blue eyes were an asset to his enterprise. I don’t know, but as soon as I stepped out the car I saw true malice in the eyes of the men. There must have been hundreds, no thousands of black people of all working ages crowded in this place that reached out as far as the eye could see. Wooden bungalows, camp fires, men, woman about the business of settling down for the night. My father turned around after unloading the clothes and was hot by this wave of hatred. He froze like a ribbit in headlights. He’s never been good in a crisis. Fortunately even at this tender age of 9 or 10 I was and have always been fabulous in a crisis. I walked over to my father and said” we don’t have to make any money here right? he nodded his head unable to talk. “stand next dad” I instructed my sister. I waved my arms around “come, come” I beckoned to the people “ cheap clothes, 1 cents, two cents, 4 cents”. The woman seeing a bargain began to approach. When they tried to hand the money over to me I pointed at my dad and said “give it to him. He stood rigid with his hands out. I told my brothers to help, everything under 5 cents. A crowd began to gather shifting through the clothes. 1 cent for a t-shirt, 2 cent for a collared shirt, 4 cent for a pair of mens trousers. lots of people now, mostly women. I walked over to  my brothers. “Get in the car I instructed them. Over to my father and sister. “ Put the money on the floor and get in the car” they did so and I hopped in after them. “Drive” I screamed at my father still stiff. We moved out of this place slowly, creeped out hoping not to be noticed. Outside the gates in safety and with increasing speed. i yelled at my father “ what were you thinking! They could have grabbed Frances” my sister then only 6 years old “and disappeared  and we would never have found her!” My father still rigid at the wheel drew a grim face and I saw this sour note in our relationship turn bitter.


THE ANTIQUES SHOP

“He’s too young” exclaimed the man. “No no he can do it” assured my father. “ Well! It’s too late now” said the man. “Ok, but stay in the shop and don’t go outside because it’s too dangerous! Its probably not a problem, nobody comes here anyway” The shop was on a steep hill. I can’t for the life of me figure out where it was or where we were living at the time. My father liked to keep me busy during school holidays and had found this little job for me. Antiques shops were big in South Africa. Lots of British people brought all sorts of luxury goods with them when they moved to Africa in the mid to late 1800 and early 1900’s and it was a bit of an industry, probably still is, refurbished Victorian furniture, boxes, tables, cupboards, all sorts of fantastic things. The shop was full of these things, beautifully shined and polished. I was supposed to stay inside but it was so boring being stuck out there all day that I ventured out into the back garden and sat at the edge of the cliff that fell away into nothingnesses from the back door to see the huge landscape that stretched out from it. From 10am till 4pm just me and antique furniture and this incredible landscape for days and days then suddenly out the blue a customer. I hid behind the counter taller than me. “is anybody here, hello hello!” I remembered it was my job and slinked into view. “Are you here by yourself?” said the astonished man. “Yes the owners on holiday” “ How much is the chest” He said. “I don’t know” I had to admit. “Well never mind I guess I can come back some other time”. My father picked me up at 4pm. He always seemed so disappointed that I was still actually there.