The
year was 1966. A few weeks after the assassination of the Prime
Minister of South Africa, Dr Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd, 65 years old,
of Afrikaner and French Huguenot ethnicity.
Dr
Klaas Joost and his cousin Dr Wilhelm Naude were sitting in Joost's
car on a side street in a strange neighbourhood. It was night. Naude
parked his car on another street and walked to Joost's. Dr Naude was
a minister in the Government. He was Verwoerd's close friend in the
Cabinet.
"Not
more than ten minutes, Klaas." "Good." "We're not
sure the assassin was on his own. Hendrik was out of control. Some
powerful people outside the Government were worried. Hendrik was
planning to send troops into Market Village. Incite the Natives to
give the soldiers reason to kill as many as possible. Hendrik had
secret native agents in the Village who were going to help us."
"Somebody
had him killed to stop the invasion?" "Something like that.
You need to know this because I dare not try to follow up on
Hendrik's offer to help you secretly in your expedition into that
native territory." "I understand, Wilhelm. But didn't the
Prime Minister say this was not the time to take action against the
natives living there? Something about them having a legal contract
right to be there?" "Yes. That is what he made out to
everybody. Nobody knew he was planning military action within days
after speaking to you. Seems as if he had it all planned long before
he spoke to you. Your request for help, just gave him one more reason
to believe what he was planning was a good thing."
"So,
should I postpone all work in that area?" "It's up to you,
Klaas. You're on your own, now." "That's not a problem. I
was doing the work on my own in secret for months before I asked for
help." "I suggest you exercise more secrecy if you want to
continue. You might be in danger if powerful people prefer to leave
the natives alone." "Okay. I'll go slower, too."
"Good. I'll be in touch at family gatherings. Don't attempt to
contact me in my office. They might be watching. My days in the
Cabinet might be numbered."
He
moved to exit the car. "Good luck in your work. Remember, Klaas,
the natives are spineless. Pretend to be nice to them, and they will
hurt one another for the opportunity to help us. Naude exited and
walked away, hurriedly.
Three
weeks later, Joost was at the farthest western place of the ravine.
The crater-rim appeared to have rammed into the mountain face. That
reinforced his hypothesis.
The
meteor could be at the bottom of the mountain. He climbed down the
one forest slope and up the other. The rim had weathered into a
platform, providing a wide surface. He had no trouble walking along
it through the trees.
He
saw what appeared to be a lake. He decided to climb down the slope.
That was not easy. He had plenty of trees and shrubs to grab onto as
he climbed down. The angle was so steep in places, he had to allow
himself to slip and fall down the decline.
He
rested on the ground at the bottom. He checked himself for injuries.
Except for sore spots just about everywhere on his body, he was unhurt.
He picked himself up to stand. He could not see the lake. He
limped along with considerable difficulty through thick forest, in
the direction he thought the lake would be. He came to a clearing. He
looked around. He noticed the tree-line ended far to his right and
left. In front of him, extending seemingly endlessly, was a field of
long grass. He limped through it.
After
about thirty minutes of limping along, he came upon a well-traveled
pathway, wide enough to accommodate about four adults abreast. He had
to choose. He chose left. Within minutes along the path, he saw the
lake. He quickened his pace. He reached the shore.
Row
boats! Six of them, each with its oars inside. He looked around. He
called out. "Hello!" A few more times, and he saw someone
running towards him along the shore.
A
girl. Whiter than ordinary white complexion, pinkish cheeks and lips.
No more than 12 years old. Fully clothed in baggy brown shirt and
baggy brown long trousers. Her clothes were dripping wet.
Water
dripped from her yellow hair that was in a single thick plait hanging
down her back. Her ankle-high footwear were the same colour as her
complexion.
"Sorry,"
she panted, as she came up to him and stopped running. "I was
swimming." "Fully clothed?" "Uh, well, dunking."
He
saw her irises sparkle like polished silver. "Would you like to
rent a boat, sir?" "I'm not sure. Where would I go?"
"To the other side of the lake. Nobody lives on this side."
"This is my first time. I wouldn't know where to start."
"In that case you can hire me with the boat. I'll be your
guide." "Who will be in charge at this end if you leave
with me?" She smiled mischievously. "I'm not the only one
at this end, sir. Come on." She walked to the boats.
"How
much for a boat and you?" She spoke as she untied one of the
boats from its stake. "What do you have to trade?" He
hesitated. "Trade? Can't I just pay money?" "I prefer
a trade, sir. There is no place around here to spend money. Perhaps a
pencil? That will rent you me to show you around and to bring you
back here two hours before sunset."
Joost
was amused. A few hours work for one pencil? "How about an ink
pen?" "No, thank you. They don't last long around here.
Something about the air." She had untied the boat and neatly
coiled the rope around the stake.
"Climb
aboard, sir. You can rummage through your backpack for a pencil while
I row you across the lake."
By
the time they reached the other end of the lake, he had rummaged, but
did not find a pencil. They agreed on a hand mirror. He needed it
for only shaving, and he thought he wouldn't be shaving until he was
back home in the City tomorrow.
"Has
this lake a name?" "Blue-serpent. Hyphenated. You won't see
any serpents because I'm with you. Not to worry, sir. They're
vegetarian. But vicious-looking. Frightening fangs." "Are
there any other colour serpents?" "Lots."
Much
later. It was about half-an-hour to sunset. The yellow-haired girl
was sitting on the far shore. Joost's backpack was on the ground in
front of her. She was taking items out of the backpack, and placing
them on the ground. Another girl walked up to her.
In
her clothes and eyes, the second girl could have been the first one's
identical twin, except for her blacker-than-usual-black complexion,
and hair. Her hair was thick, long, and as black as her skin.
"He
traded all that?" "Uh-huh." "You won't be able to
row him back before sunset." "I know. That's how I planned
it."
"Oh?
Am I invited?"
Contact
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