The Strandlopers

Meisie longed for excitement, but this ordinary day was just like a thousand others. It was still early and yet already she could feel the sweat trickle under her arms. She weaved between the spiky heather and gathered smooth stones, storing them in her pockets for later. She knew that it would be cooler on the shore, it always was.

The pathway to the beach was thick with wag-’n-bietjie bushes boldly displaying their giant thorns.They towered over her and nearly met above her head spreading almost to the water’s edge. The sandy beach was deserted, as she knew it would be.

The sea, as if disappointed in its loneliness, was angry pounding the shore with unruly waves. She imagined the sea on this western tip of Africa running away to fling itself somewhere onto the coast of South America. She longed to ride with the waves so that she could have a look at this other country. Her teacher spoke eloquently of this mysterious place, but she could never imagine what it would look like. Pa’s stories were much better, like the story of the ocean here on this wild coast. He’d told her the story so often that she knew it by heart. A curious thing happened every time she recounted it, she always heard the story in Pa’s voice in her head.

‘The Indian Ocean first came around the corner here at Cape Horn. Then the Atlantic was jealous of the exotic east so it rushed up for the west, and where the two great oceans meet, it created a broiling seam. This was because the waters did not mix easily; a true clash of east and west. The two oceans fought for supremacy and that is why the sea is always so angry here.’

Indeed it was true, Meisie could see the white crooked zip of foam rushing out tino the deep ocean.

In the distance, little beach huts, like coloured paper, fluttered in the hazy heat.

She didn’t want to get too close to the huts so she played in the warm water of a safe oasis. She sat on the rocks and that is when she saw the shoes. They were left on the water’s edge, like a gift. She picked them up gently, holding her breath.

Someone must have wanted me to have them, she told herself. The shoes were just the kind of thing that the white ladies wore, useless and gaudy with a dainty heel. She cradled them like twin babies. Then, she tried them on. Delighted, she turned her feet this way and that. It was true that they were too long and too narrow, but they were the most beautiful things that she had ever seen. Her feet looked different in the shoes, no longer broad and flat, but narrow and arched like a cat.

‘Do you like shoes, little meid?’ Meisie sprang to her feet, losing her balance and falling hard on the sand. The girl laughed her face like a heart. Meisie blushed and tried to take the shoes off but they stuck to her swollen feet. The girl, about the same height as Meisie, came closer.

‘I didn’t know that blacks could blush,’ she said, examining Meisie’s face. ‘I said, I didn’t know that blacks could blush,'' her voice turned hard, like someone much older.

‘I’m sorry, I thought that these shoes were …,’ Meisie tugged at the shoes and at last they came off with a faint popping sound.

‘Oh, I’m just joking with you, hey, they’re not mine. I don’t know who they belong to. You can have them,’ the girl smiled and sat next to Meisie.

‘My name is Sissie,’ she held out her hand like a grownup. Meisie put her dark hand into Sissie’s pale one.

‘I’m Meisie,’ she said, withdrawing her hand quickly.

‘Where do you come from? I thought that black people weren’t allowed on the beach.’ Meisie frowned and the shoes felt heavy in her lap.

‘Of course I’m allowed here, we live right over there where the cliffs start. We all live there, in a cave, my Ma and Pa and me. That’s silly what you said.’

‘What’s silly?’ Meisie glanced at the girl and looked away.

‘Us, I mean me, not being able to come here.How would we live if I wasn’t allowed here? Pa fishes all over. Sometimes he goes even further down to Kayaletsha where the abalone are.’ Sissie pushed her feet into the sand until they formed a heap like a sticken castle.

‘You know what’s funny. You have the same name as my sister, she is smaller than me. It’s a stupid name anyway, it just means girl.’ Sissie got up and wiped the sand from her legs and back. Meisie stung, looked up. The sun was behind Sissie so that her face was dark and her hair golden at the edges.

‘Well your name means sister so it’s even more stupid than mine.’ Meisie folded her arms. Sissie laughed.

‘Hey, you can have those shoes. I think that someone must have thrown them away.’ Meisie felt a little thrill, like the time she got that print dress for Christmas. And it didn’t matter that it was not new. It was beautiful and she felt like a princess when she put it on and she danced and danced around the fire.

‘So will you show me where you live?’ Meisie gazed up at the girl thinking about what Ma would say.

With amazement she found herself saying, ‘Ja, maybe I’ll show you, but first tell me where you live.’ Sissie shrugged, ‘I live in Humansdorp. It’s no big deal. As soon as I can, I'm moving to Port Elizabeth.’ And then with a hushed awe, ‘maybe I’ll even move to Cape Town.’ Meisie thought that it would be a very big deal indeed to live in Humansdorp.

‘Ja, well maybe I could meet you one day. I’ve wanted to go to Humansdorp for a very long time now.’

‘I am usually at the boere market every Saturday morning, maybe next time you can come and see me.’ Sissie laughed and it was a joyful sound like the wind on a spring morning. Meisie frowned and thought that this girl laughed a lot. She stood, her feet sinking in the sand where she’d been sitting.

The girls, one so fair the other dark, began the climb back to the cave. Almost at once Sissie complained that the rocks hurt her feet.

A cluster of white boys fishing on the rocks saw them. Their shouted cries were torn away by the wind. Seeing that the girls had not heard they began to gesture. One of them rudely thrust his hips out and then his hand did that up and down movement that Meisie knew was bad. She hurried, forcing Sissie to go faster, and soon the boys were like little ants on the rocks below.

They came upon the cave from the blind side and Sissie gasped and stared for so long that Meisie began to fear that she had made a mistake.

‘So this is where you live, hey?’

‘Ja,’ Meisie slipped the shoes behind a rock wishing that she had not brought this strange white girl into her world. Sissie looked into a black cooking pot which made Meisie think of Ma. She began to wish that Sissie would leave.

‘That’s it, there isn’t really that much to see,’ Meisie edged away hoping that Sissie would follow.

‘Where’s your toilet hey?’ Meisie shrugged. ‘Do you go in the bush then?’

‘I will take you as far as the groot boom but you must go now. Just now my Ma will come home and then she will be cross with you for coming.’

‘Why? I haven’t done anything. Look, is this where you sleep? It’s not very big is it? I can’t believe that you live in a cave. It’s just like that time I slept on the lawn in a tent. I only did it for one night though, the ground was too hard.’ Meisie, desperate now, pulled her arm. At first Sissie pulled free but then realising that there wasn’t very much to see she began to follow Meisie.

The smell of Ma’s cooking drifted down the cliff face before Meisie got back.She quietly sneaked into the cave and put on her new shoes.

‘Kyk Ma, look at what I found today.’For a long time Ma did not say anything and she did not smile either. Meisie began to feel uneasy.

‘Luister Meisie, where did you get those shoes? No, don't answer me. I’m sure that they can’t be yours. You’d better take them back to wherever you found them. Strandlopers like us don’t have shoes like that.’ Even though Meisie’s eyes filled with tears Ma would not relent.

‘Take them back skat,’ Ma’s voice softened as she used that old endearment. Meisie turned so that her tears fell secretly like broken glass.

Then her voice softened, ‘In any case skat, where would you wear them? They’ve got heels. There are some who would love to make trouble for us. You take them back and I’ll make some roosterbood, it’s your favourite.’

Meisie thought of her new friend who had given her the shoes. Her heart swelled to think that her new friend was white and lived in a house in Humansdrop. She didn’t know why but she said nothing of her new friend to her mother. She sat wearily in her place, caressing the shoes which were soft and white against her hand.

Pa brought three emerald fish strung together with fishing gut. He swung the fish onto a rock next to Ma and she began immediately to gut them. Pa smiled at Meisie as he washed his hands in a tin bucket that did little to dispel the smell of fish.

‘Too much time with those rocks,’ he said, showing her his wounded hands. Then just as Meisie hoped that Ma had forgotten, she told him about the shoes.

‘They must go back, there will be trouble otherwise,’ Ma was adamant but Pa did not say anything for a long time and Meisie began to hope. Then at last he spoke and her heart sank.

‘Come now, I’ll take you,’ so Meisie, tying the shoes together like the dead fish, followed Pa. After a while Pa turned to her with kind eyes and sadness in his voice.

‘Now you must show me where you found those shoes.’ Silently she took the lead. The little beach was deserted and the cluster of boys were gone.

‘You see, Pa, there is no one here. Ag Pa, please let me keep the shoes.’

‘No impossible skat. I’m going to tell you the story about the Strandlopers and when I am finished we will be home and you can forget about those shoes.’

Meisie put the shoes down slowly and carefully as if they were alive. She’d heard the story before and wondered how it would make her forget the shoes.

When Pa started speaking his voice was so low that Meisie almost did not hear him and had to hurry to catch him up for the words were too low.

‘Many years ago skat, our people left this area and went into the middle of Africa. But then one day they returned and they came here.’

‘Why did they leave?’ She asked, as she knew she must.

‘They were sick of the sea skat. They wanted to try something else and so they decided to move.’

‘Where did they go first Pa?’ She hurried to keep up with Pa who always walked quickly.

‘They went to a tribe on the edge of the world.’ The tribe were called the Xhosa people and they said to them, “let us help with the land.” So the Xhosa let them help, they gave them hoes and cattle and showed them how to work the land. But very soon our people grew tired of this. The land was quiet, too quiet for them. So they left to look for another life.’

‘So what happened next Pa?’

‘Then they found the Zulu. The Zulu were big and proud and lived as warriors. “Oh let us be warriors,” the people said. So they took the spears and joined the Zulus. But soon they saw that it was hard to be a warrior and it was too hard for them. So they left the Zulu warriors and began to look for another life.

‘Then they found the desert, like an endless beach without the sea, and they found the Khoi San who lived in the desert. They said, “let us join you because we are used to the sand.” The Khoi San were gentle and agreed. But soon they found that the desert was too dry and they missed the sea.’ Meisie could see their cave, like a black mouth in the gloom of the gathering night. She knew that soon the story must end, so she slowed her steps.

‘Oi, shame Pa, so what did they do?’

‘Well, one day they found a man bleached white by the sun. He did not speak to them and this made them curious. They gave him their conch shell, which was their only treasure because they thought that he would surely die soon being so very white. The conch shell was a great shell from the shores of East Africa.

‘The bleached man took the shell and put it away where they could not see it anymore. This man ate well and lived in a fine house made of sturdy bricks and they saw that they were wrong about the man. He would not die. “Let us join this man,” they said. Then they saw that this man was not alone and that he had many friends. These friends, like him, were all burned white by the sun. So they stayed with the bleached people, but these people were not friendly and did not want them. They chased our people away, even though they were starving and sick. They saw that we would not go, so the bleached man broke the conch shell and this pained our people.

This made our people very scared and they ran away and became separated. By then many of our people had mixed with the bleached people and we were now neither bleached or blackened. We were now a new race and we spoke the language of the bleached people.’’

‘Ag shame Pa, the poor people. What did they do?’

‘They did not know what to do. They were separated and so they began to live anywhere they could. They came back to the sea and found these caves here and many more along the coast. They drew pictures in the caves and you can see these pictures everywhere, even today.

The drawings tell the story of how we came to live here. The bleached people called us the beach walkers and we say Strandlopers, in our own language.’ As Pa’s voice faded there was only the sound of the wind in the darkening sky and the smell of Ma’s pot. Meisie smiled, she’d forgotten about the shoes.

For the first few weeks after she had met her new friend, Meisie told herself that she would never go to Humansdorp. This feeling though, began to fade, and after a time she began to think of the white city and of how good it would be to see Sissie again. She went often to her little beach but never saw Sissie there. One day, taking a deep breath, she decided to go. She followed the path up to the top of the cliffs, and when that became a road, she continued until she came to the houses. The houses were big and for a while she stayed on the smooth grass in the shade of the trees.

She found the market where many animals were penned. She looked into their eyes and recognised their fear. All around there was the smell of something feral which she also knew but could not name. Not wanting to look at the animals anymore, she returned to the houses and hid in their shade.

She made a few attempts to come away from the shelter of the buildings, she couldn’t stay out for long. Then she saw Sissie walking toward her. There were three boys with her, Meisie wondered if they were the same ones she’d seen on the day she met Sissie.

Meisie shrank back into the shade of the wall. Sissie’s laugh was loud, like a bullet. Meisie looked back down the street but there was no escape that way. Then Sissie noticed her and it looked as if she would speak but then she sneered and walked away. It was then that Meisie noticed that Sissie was wearing the shoes from the beach.

GLOSSARY:

groot boom - big tree

ja - yes.

kyk - look.

luister - listen.

rooster brood - home cooked bread.

skat - a term of endearment for a child

Strandlopers - beach walkers.

wag-’n-bietjie - a thorny bush that produces huge white thorns that catch on to clothing and flesh hence the name wag-’n bietjie meaning wait-a-bit.

Short Stories

I've become very interested in short stories of limited words. In this case 223 words. My biggest problem is that I will often use ten words when two will do. So, I have been experimenting with fewer words. I think that this can have a very powerful impact. This short story was inspired when I was driving home on a wet, wintry December evening. It was gloomy and spotting with rain and I saw someone briefly standing on a bridge. Then I was gone in the stream of traffic but the man stayed with me.

The Man on The Bridge.

The car was on the side of the bridge. All its doors and the boot were open; it crouched there like a wounded bird of prey.

The man stood on the bridge with his back to the traffic. His hands tucked inside his zipper jacket. There was no rail and the cold wind pushed at his back.

The cars below streaming past, their headlights in the fading light - spots of red fire - small beacons of hell. At his back cars speeding in the relentless rush hour.

All these people, he thought, trying to get home. I wonder if any of them see me? Over to his left the lonely cry of a train. That must be the 6.40 and he wondered if she was on it.

But his reverie did not last long. His thoughts were like the dying embers of a once raging fire. Soon, he hoped they would go out all together.

His face, dark and half hidden under his hood, was blank like life had already gone. All it would take, his tired brain, concluded, was one person in the streaming, flowing masses, to stop. One word, one touch.

But he knew from bitter experience that it would not happen and certainly not now, not these days.

Maybe, tonight he would actually do it.