Stories from Welkom
Catherine Nicolette
I adored the lady who worked as the house cleaner next door. Esther stayed in a set of rooms outside the main house, and when I heard through the street children's grapevine that she had been crowned Beauty Queen of Thabong the week before and had a sash with her title embroidered on it, I was over there like a shot.
Esther was sitting sewing in the doorway of her room sitting chatting with Safia, who worked for the family on the other side of our house. 'Can I please come and visit you?' I pleaded. 'Why are you always coming over here?' she said. 'Surely you should be playing with the other children of your own age, instead of coming over here all the time. There are many children in the neighbourhood'. Her companion nodded agreement. 'But none of them are the Beauty Queen of Thabong,' I said worshipfully. Esther burst out laughing, and after that there was never any question of my coming over. I used to get the last ounce of entertainment from Mom's presence, then when she was out and we were with our nanny, I used to go over next door with her blessing as she knew what a lovely person Esther was. She was beautiful not only outside, but inside.
Many was the day of fun I had there. Esther used to let me borrow her stiletto shoes and beauty sash, put her crown on my forehead and I used to teeter around practising the beauty queen catwalk and saying to myself, 'I am Miss Thabong,' and bowing at the wildly cheering imaginary Thabong crowds. At other times Esther sat me down at the mirror placed carefully on an oil drum covered with a brightly patterned cloth which served as her dressing table, and taught me how to kohl my eyes with the blackened ends of a matchstick. I'd solemnly spend ages learning how to apply blusher and borrow her lipstick. It was a work of art to get it all off before Mom came home, as she considered ten years of age far too young to be experimenting with make-up.
Another time Esther taught me how to bake a cake over a primus stove between two cake tins. We made a delicious chocolate cake, and sat happily eating it with a tin mug of sweet tea at the back door of her rooms in the brilliant South African sunshine with the 'koer koer' sound of the birds in our ears. Those were happy moments indeed.
Not so happy was the day I asked her about the reason her bed was placed on four sturdy oil cans. Her eyes round with terror, she told me in hushed tones of the tokoloshe that stole women and children away. He was a small man with a large rounded back who would come in the night down the chimney or through a window, and steal them away in a bag. I was horrified. How come Mom had never told me of this danger? Esther told me that if you have your bed on four cans, the tokoloshe can't climb up them. She and Safia. kindly helped me to procure four cans, and Mom came in to kiss me goodnight the next week to find me happily settled in a high bed with a book in my hand, bed well balanced on the oil cans. I had persuaded my dear nanny whom I adored to help me put the bed up on them. As she was helping me balance the bed on the oil cans, she was shaking her head and said, 'Well of course I will help you, but I don't know what the Mies will say.'
When explained the reason for the cans, Mom removed them. I was inconsolable, and followed her around the house wailing, 'The tokoloshe will steal me away and you'll never see me again, just because you wouldn't let me have the bed raised. And then you'll feel guilty because I'm gone.' Mom said tersely, 'I'll take my chances,' and went off to dispose of the cans shaking her head at her most unDutch like daughter.
As Mom was about to go out the next day, she stopped at the front door. 'By the way,' Mom said, 'Where did you hear about this tokoloshe?' Some sixth sense made me prevaricate, 'Oh, I just heard it... you know...' I said vaguely, and gestured in the general direction of the neighbourhood. 'Mmm,' Mom said unconvinced, her gimlet Dutch gaze trained on me. Then she decided to accept the explanation and went off. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had some inkling that if I had told the truth, the whole truth so help me God, I would possibly have been stopped from my clandestine and very cheerful visits to Esther and Safia. So mum literally was the word.
The next day Esther, Safia and I sat in her doorway while they consoled me with tea and rusks. They were horrified at Mom's actions, and tears streamed down my face. 'And she said she would take her chances,' I sobbed. They shook their head and tut tutted at the hard heartedness of the Neighbour From Next Door. As a special treat they cooked samp, tomato and onion sauce and beans, and let me eat my midday meal with them. It was delicious, and they taught me how to eat the meal with my hands after careful washing of them. There was an elegant flick of the wrist used in eating, and I had to practise until I had learned the correct South Sotho etiquette. I was thrilled, and my tears dried.
The day we left the house to move to a new neighbourhood my heart broke. As I left the house the last time, a drop of rusty water leaked from the faucet and dropped with a sound of such finality. As I left my childhood home and our family car drove past Esther's little house where Esther and Safia stood outside, dressed in their brightest South Sotho best and formally waving white handkerchiefs in farewell, I felt my heart break. I dearly loved those two kind ladies who did so much to brighten a little girl's days, and were patient when I used to come and spend so much time following them around with hero worship. I don't know where they are today, but I do know where they always will be - in my heart.
*Names hves been changed
*Tokoloshe is enshrined in South Africa as a feared legend, especially in rural areas
*My nanny used to call my mom the Mies - a South African form of 'Missus'
*A long dry South African biscuit, much enjoyed at teatime or with coffee.
*Photograph taken by Rev. Catherine of street art in South Africa
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