THE HEIRLOOM

The old pepper tree lay upturned on the ground, its roots exposed to the unmerciful rays of the burning sun, the heat bereaving them of their last drops of sap. It had fallen squarely over the two graves that the old man had carefully set so that he could sit in its shade in the late afternoons to look at the graves and think back on the years spent with his wife and after her, the years with his dog. The fallen tree was a shock and a step toward even more nothingness in his life than ever before.

He went inside the house, taking the broom from the kitchen to his bedroom. He was afraid that perhaps he would not be able to get up again if he knelt down on the floor, but he had to get the small piece of folded paper which was hidden away in the farthest corner behind the foot of the bed. With some effort he managed to get hold of it, and still sitting on the floor, he opened up each fold of the paper with shaking hands, and even though he knew the content so well, too well in fact, for through a lifetime it had never left his mind, his heart turned over and he gasped as he sat looking at it. It was so inspirational that it gave him the strength to hold onto the side of the bed and draw himself up and onto his feet.

From then on he conversed with the long-hidden heirloom as he went through his simple and scaled-down daily routine. He was not mad, he was merely lonely. As he talked, he sorted out long hidden thoughts and memories, a great deal of which were not in his favour. When he was young he thought that her father was unreasonable and biased against him for refusing them to get married. But in his matured age, he now knew that the man had been wise and had wanted to protect his daughter. And he had been quite right too, for after she had picked up a diamond in the shallows of the Orange River and the two of them had decided to elope, did he not steal their family heirloom, just to make sure that they really had enough money to make a good living in a hide-away place such as this farm where they would not be found by her family? But she was so honourable, and he loved her so intensely, that he never told her the truth, he hid it from her, under the bed, in the furthest corner, behind the wooden foot against the wall. And now he sat with it in his hand, and contemplated on how it had brought him nothing more in his life except to become a criminal and a reason for having deceived his wife through all the years that they lived here. Thus he punished himself, confessing his sins. And then he felt relieved, and his further mutterings with the heirloom in his hand took on a new pattern.

“Pack your suitcase and go to the place of your childhood and of your youth, the place you and I yearn for, for that is the place of our origin.”

“But am I not too old for such a trip, it is so far away?”

“No, do it now, before it really becomes impossible for you to follow your dream.”

So the old man packed a suitcase, put the heirloom in his pocket and left for the big city.

Piet was a long-distance bus driver for Southern Tours, and on this trip from Park Station to the Augrabies Falls, he came face to face with a ghost from long ago, a ghost that looked him in the eye when he handed him his ticked for the trip. Piet felt weak in the knees, fortunately his co-driver was scheduled to drive the bus on the first leg of their long journey. As soon as they were past Soweto and driving at a steady pace on the N14, the road became less congested and he relaxed and decided on a plan to put his mind to rest.

The old man had a window seat for he wanted to savour the beauty of the varying countryside as the journey progressed. His thoughts wandered from the old farm he had left behind, and he knew, somehow, that he would not return to it, to the face of the man he had handed his bus ticket to, to the long Highveld grass he was leaving behind with a lump in his throat. The man’s face haunted him. He didn’t know the man, so he wondered why he seemed so familiar.

At their first stop at Vryburg, Piet hurried away from the passengers to find a private spot. He took out his cell phone and dialled a number.

“Hello, Aunty Lily speaking”, creaked a voice.

“Hello Ouma, it’s Piet here …”

“Speak up, dear, I can’t hear you”, interrupted the voice.

After some more of this the line cleared somewhat.

“Ouma, please look for that photograph of your grandparents with their Griekwa daughter and the Whitey. It’s in the green tin chest. Just get somebody to take a picture of it, and let them Whatsapp it to me as quickly as you can!”

Ouma heard the urgency of Piet’s request. She opened the chest and took out the cardboard box of photographs which were somewhat yellowed by age. She looked through the photos, and there it was, the one that Piet wanted.

“Simon, come here and bring your cell phone”, she called down the passage.

“Yes Aunty, and why my cell phone?”

“Put this photo in it, and send it to Piet, he asked for it.”

“What’s going on here?” asked Simon.

“I’m not a magician to know such things, you just do what Piet asked.”

“Piet, Piet, Piet, always just Piet!” But he did as he was asked.

Piet now had a four hour drive ahead of him. He was well-trained and dedicated to his work, so he forced all thoughts besides the job he was busy with out of his mind. Safety first was his motto.

The scenery had changed since they had left the big city. The old man started feeling excited as the land became more barren, it seemed as if he was coming closer and closer to days gone by. He had happy memories of those days. Playing barefoot in the sun. Dipping into the cool waters of the river. The river was dangerous, and they used to get a hiding for going there. The delicious lamb chops and the crisply baked sheeps’ heads, the children always used to fight over the eyes and the tongue. They used to walk to the little stone building that was their school, or if they were lucky, they could use the donkey cart to get there. And their games. One game was to look for diamonds along the banks of the river, and then tease the others, boasting about their findings. But none of them ever had that luck, it was all just a game. His hand moved involuntarily to his pocket …

When they reached Upington, Piet once again sought a place of privacy as quickly as he could. The photo on the cell phone depicted the old man as near identical to his forefather as could possibly be. Now that Piet was sure, he was left with the biggest dilemma of his life, and he had one hour, which was the length of the last lap of the journey, to think about the matter. As the landscape he was staring at was barren, so his mind felt barren. With tremendous willpower he pulled himself together, for the family had always looked up at him as their leader. Even though they did not know about the old man being on his bus, it was his duty to decide and to act on their behalf. The old man represented the hated other half of their family, the half who had stolen their riches and one of the beautiful women the family was known for. The old man would soon be standing on the edge of the canyon with hard rocks far down below, it would be easy …

At the end of the journey everyone poured out of the bus, eager to see the wondrous Augrabies Falls. The old man, leaning on his walking stick, walked stiffly to the side of the abyss and stood there, looking in awe at the sight of the mighty roaring waters falling far down into the basin beneath the falls.

Piet sidled up to him. The old man became aware of Piet.

“Thank you for bringing us safely to this place of beauty.”

This kindly disposal of appreciation from the old man hit hard at a man who had such black thoughts. Piet’s heart lurched, he even felt a stabbing pain.

“It was a pleasure”, he managed to say.

His mind raced. He had a sudden idea, he would use a magic word to test the old man to see whether he was aware of the family history or not.

“Every time I stand on this spot I wonder how many alluvial diamonds are sent down this ravine from the river up there.”

It was just a typical statement, one to be expected when two men stand where they were standing. But Piet, who was keenly alert to any reaction from the old man, did not hear the common reply, “Yes, I wonder, wish they were mine!” Instead he saw a slight movement of the old man’s right hand toward his pocket. Venter no longer guessed that the old man knew the family history.

“I am related to you”, he said.

The old man, having had a lifetime of experience, in his wisdom said:

“I have no living relative, but for you and yours. I had the feeling that I simply had to do this trip. Come and stand on this side and open your hand. Be unobtrusive.”

With his left hand Piet received the long-lost stolen family heirloom which was set with the diamonds that were picked up on the sands of the river by his great-aunt, and with his right arm he welcomed the old man into his family.