A Blade of Grass Read Free

must help her.”
    “Rooifontein? That’s some distance away, isn’t it? How long do you need to be away?”
    “Only two days, Missus.” Grace holds up two fingers. “Two days, only.”
    “Yes, I can count, Grace. But who is to prepare the meals while you are gone? Who will do the kitchen work?”
    “My girl Tembi can do the work. She knows how.”
    Märit shrugs. There is no point in objecting. If workers want to go they will often just disappear, and give you some excuse days later when they return. A sick relative, a family member arrested for not carrying the proper identification papers—always something.
    “I suppose we can manage. But only two days, mind.”
    “Yes, Missus. Thank you, Missus.” Grace bobs her head gratefully and backs towards the door.
    Märit feels a sudden pang of guilt, aware of the coldness in her manner, aware that even though this woman works in the house every day, Märit knows so little of her. For a moment she cannot quite remember the daughter’s face or even if she has met her.
    “How old is your girl now, Grace?”
    “Eighteen years, Missus.”
    Not that much younger than Märit herself. “And how is she getting on?” Märit asks, curious now. “What does she do here on the farm?”
    “Tembi is working in the dairy, Missus. She is a good girl. A very clever girl.” The lines around her eyes wrinkle in a smile.
    “Does she have any schooling?”
    “Oh yes, Missus. Before we came to this place Tembi was learning many things in the school. And there is a school here, on Sundays. She is very clever now. She is clever in everything. One day she can be a teacher, or even a nurse in the city.”
    “Well, perhaps. The city is not always the best place for a country girl. And her father, what does he do here on the farm?” How little she knows of their lives, Märit realizes. How invisible they can be. Even now, after three months, she has asked almost nothing about Grace’s life. But she is still a stranger here herself, still unsure. She wonders if she can ask Grace to sit down, to drink a cup of tea with her. But that sort of thing is not done. It would break all the rules.
    “My husband is in Johannesburg, Missus. He is working in the gold mines.”
    “Oh, I see. But you prefer to be here?”
    Grace shakes her head. “There is no place for families on the mines. The men live in hostels on the mines.”
    “But you see him, don’t you?”
    “The men have annual leave, Missus. So that they can visit their families. We are not traveling to Johannesburg.”
    “Well,” Märit says, drawing back from any further intimacy, from any further knowledge. This is not the time or place to discuss the ways of thiscountry. “Of course you can go to see your cousin, Grace. But only two days, mind.”
    “Yes, Missus.” The relief shows on her face. “Thank you, Missus.” She bows her head and moves to the door.
    “Oh, Grace?”
    “Yes, Missus?” Grace says, turning in the doorway.
    Märit points. “Don’t forget the tea tray.”
    “No, Missus,” Grace says humbly, bowing her head. “Sorry, Missus.”

3
    B EHIND THE FARMHOUSE , behind the screen of trees, eucalyptus and a few mulberries, is the kraal where the workers’ rondavels are situated—circular huts of mud and wattle, with tightly thatched roofs of straw and whitewashed walls—and behind the kraal is the small area of vegetable gardens for the workers—spinach, tomatoes, carrots—and beyond this is the veldt, grasses and shrubs and a few doringbooms —thorn trees—and beyond the veldt are the kloofs and koppies—the gullies and hills. The orchards and the fields and the river lie in the opposite direction, where the land is fertile. But here are gullies and hills and thorn trees. Here is the koppie called Duiwelskop. It is here that Tembi brings her seeds.
    Her dress is a simple cotton garment, blue, patterned with small white flowers, fastened down the front except for the upper two buttons, which are