Out of Bounds (4 page)

“Let him rest here. Then you take your father home.”

I nodded, too shaken to thank him.

Pa didn’t speak all the way home. I held his hand while Omar and Billy followed a short distance behind us. I think they were embarrassed. As we passed Solly’s I couldn’t help glimpsing into the window. The cap gun was still there but, of course, none of us said anything. When we came to Omar’s dad’s shop, Billy said they would see me later, but it wasn’t his usual jokey “See you later, kid!” I felt strangely hollow.

As we passed Mrs. James’s house, Wolfie chased us with his usual yapping and the net curtains flickered. I would have let Pa’s hand go, but his fingers were tightly wound through mine. We climbed our steps. Through the open doorway I could see more boxes piled on top of each other. Mommy and Uncle Richard had been busy. Mommy poked her head round the kitchen door. She must have seen me first.

“You’re early!”

Then she saw Pa.

“What’s the matter?” she cried, searching his face.

Her eyes flicked down to the paper in Pa’s hand.

“What did they say, Joe?” Mommy’s voice was suddenly hushed, and she pulled out a chair for Pa.

“Fetch your uncle!” Mommy pointed in the direction of our bedroom. As I turned around, I saw, in the middle of the packing boxes, the table laid out for a small party. Crisps, my favorite jelly beans, chocolate biscuits, and, in the middle, a cake with candles and a silver paper Happy Birthday. I drew my breath.

“Hurry!” Mommy’s hand propelled me from behind.

But Uncle Richard had already heard us. He squeezed his way through furniture and packages straight to Pa and took the piece of paper. Mommy and I trained our eyes on his face. Pa hunched forward, his head in his hands.

“Rejected?” Uncle Richard’s voice rose. “What damn nonsense is this? ‘Joseph Peters is rejected for registration as a Colored!’”

Mommy’s hand flew to her mouth. She lowered herself unsteadily on to a chair next to Pa. For a few moments she sat very still while Uncle Richard read the paper again.

“What does it mean, Uncle Richard?” I asked.

“They want to classify your Pa as an African.”

“But…”

My head swarmed with “buts.” I knew very well from everything Uncle Richard had said before that however bad things were for Colored people, they were much worse for Africans. The queue of tired, hunched figures outside the Pass Office was fresh in my mind. If the Boers said Pa was an African, they wouldn’t let him live with us! They would send him away!

“You’d better go and play with your friends while we talk,” said Mommy. Two days ago Mommy said I needed to grow up. Now she wanted to protect me again.

“No, let him hear.” Uncle Richard put an arm around me.

“Ja!”
In a soft, low voice, Pa finally broke his silence. “Let him hear.”

Pa told us what had happened. He had been taken into an office where a white man had spoken to him in Afrikaans. Pa had answered in the Boer’s language, thinking he might make the man angry if he answered in English. Two black policemen were ordered to take Pa’s fingerprints. Again, Pa didn’t resist. The white man took the fingerprint
form and asked Pa a lot of questions. What race was he? Where was he born? To whom was he married? What was his wife’s maiden name? What race was his father? What race was his mother? Where did he live? What was his home language? So many questions Pa had forgotten them all. Then the white man had examined Pa.

“Like I was a horse,” said Pa.

It was the first time that I heard him sound bitter.

“I told him our grandpa was from Europe. But he said where was my proof? I said they didn’t keep papers in those days. Then he asked me, ‘If you put milk in coffee, what happens?’ I said, ‘It remains coffee, but it changes color.’ He said, ‘Yes, it remains coffee and you are like that.’ He just gave me this piece of paper and told me to go.”

We were all stunned into silence. I stared at the paper with the scrawling ink. The message on a poisoned arrow.

“You can appeal.” Uncle Richard’s voice was softer than usual. “My friends know a lawyer who handles these things.”

For the first time Mommy didn’t make any comment about Uncle Richard’s friends being “cracked.”

“In the meantime, don’t let this get to your manager,” he added.

Pa nodded grimly. The workers that Pa supervised were Coloreds. An African would never be allowed to supervise Coloreds! Pa would lose his job. Mommy rested one hand lightly on Pa’s shoulder.

“We better have our tea. Then we have to finish this packing.”

Mommy sent me to get my sister from next door while she made the tea. When we returned, Mommy, Pa, and Uncle Richard were already squashed around the table. Lisa clambered on to Pa’s lap, and Mommy signaled me to sit in front of the cake. As she lit the candles, she tried to force a smile.

“Make a good wish before you blow these out.”

The flames flickered and my little sister began to sing “Happy Birthday.” We all watched her, and Pa even bounced his knee like a mechanical seesaw. When her little song stumbled to an end, I took a deep breath and blew. I closed my eyes. This wishing game was just make-believe but my wish was desperate.

When I opened my eyes there was a parcel in front of me. I had a present after all.

“Open it,” urged Mommy. “Perhaps it will make
your wish come true.”

How could it? I felt no excitement. Everything about this birthday was now wrong. My fingers fumbled with the ribbon and paper. The Lone Ranger’s outfit—suit and mask—tumbled on to my knees. Exactly the same as Mommy had made for the white boy.

“Don’t you like it?” she asked. Her voice was flat. She must have worked late at night when I was asleep. On top of everything else.

“Thanks, Mommy.”

The words trotted out, but I didn’t feel anything. If I had been given the suit in the morning, I would have been crazy with joy. I would have wanted to show it off straight away to Omar and Billy, like the white boy galloping around his garden. Three hours had changed all that. I suddenly felt much older. Too old for a childish outfit. And for the first time I felt I knew what Uncle Richard meant by the “noose around all our necks.”

1960

When I was six, policemen snatched Daddy away in the middle of the night. They came to our house with banging, thumping, and shouting. Their flashlights swooped over the garden through the dark. Honey was barking wildly. At first I thought it was a nightmare and cried for Mommy, but when she didn’t come, I ran to my parents’ bedroom. Daddy was stooped over the bed, surrounded by men in long coats and dark hats. He was packing a suitcase. My brother, Mark, stood barefoot in his pajamas, staring from the corridor outside. He was very silent and I stood beside him, sobbing enough for the two of us. Mommy kept weaving in and out of the policemen to pass Daddy his clothes, his toothbrush and paste, his facecloth. When she held out his razor, a policeman stopped her.

“Forbidden,” he grunted through his moustache that was thick as a carpet brush.

Mommy looked more white-faced than Daddy. I wanted to hug him good-bye, but the policemen moved like a wall around him. They bundled him out of the front door into the back of a car. A policeman jumped in either side, trapping Daddy between them. He couldn’t even turn his head around to look at us standing on the front doorstep.

Janey, our African maid, was standing in the shadows at the side of the garage next to her room. The car headlights caught her in their glare and her hand shot up to cover her eyes. The tires crunched slowly down the drive until the car reached the gate. Then it roared away into the dark. Honey was still barking crazily from the kitchen yard. The dogs down the road answered her in a chorus. It was Daddy who took Honey out for her early morning run, and she seemed to know that something awful had happened. I stood on our steps clutching on to Mommy with a terrible fear. If those men could just walk into Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom and grab him away, they could do anything they liked.

Later, Mark told me that the police might come and take Mommy too. Mommy held me on her lap
and said they wouldn’t, but really she just said that to make me feel better. She often helped Daddy in his study. The door would be closed, but I could hear them talking and the typewriter tapping. They went to lots of meetings, and sometimes people came to talk with them in the study. Some were family friends who had known me and Mark since we were babies, like Uncle Max. He used to sit me on his shoulders when I was small. It was like being on top of a huge tree. Uncle Max’s strong brown arms were the branches, ready to catch me if I fell off. Once, I remember that I cried and cried for Uncle Max to take me on his shoulders to the park to see if I was taller than the slides. He said he couldn’t.

“But Daddy takes me,” I protested.

“One day, little Lily, one day. When we have freedom, you and I will go to the park.”

His voice was so grave that I calmed down, but I still didn’t understand that Uncle Max wasn’t allowed to take me—a little white girl—to the park because he was black. When the police took Daddy away, I didn’t understand that as well.

I didn’t say anything in school about Daddy being in jail. My teacher never said a word either,
but I felt she knew. It was like a big unspoken. When Janey collected me after school, I could feel the mothers watching us as we walked down the road.

“Do you think they know my daddy is in jail?” I asked Janey.

“They know, Lily. People like to talk.”

I let Janey take my hand even though I didn’t usually do that anymore.

“Do they think Daddy did something bad?”

“Don’t worry what they think,” Janey squeezed my palm and stopped to gaze at me directly. Her warm brown face and steady eyes were comforting. “Your daddy is good. Look how he helps other people. Like Busi! He stayed up the whole night to make her better. We’ll never forget what he did.”

Busi was Janey’s favorite niece. She was the same age as me, and when we were four, Busi got a raging fever. Daddy drove all the way to the township with Janey to bring her to the hospital where he worked. Afterward he brought her home to stay with us until she was better. We played every day, and in the end Busi even learned to swim in our pool. I cried when Janey took her back to the township. I wanted her to stay forever.

When they took Daddy to jail, Caroline was already my best friend at school. To be truthful, she was my only friend. We had shared a double-desk since we started. Our Grade One teacher said we reminded her of the sisters Snow White and Rose Red. Caroline’s hair was silky and fair while mine was thick and dark. Her eyes were dove blue and mine were olive green. Her mom used to give me a tight little smile whenever she saw us holding hands as we came out of the gates. It was ages before I was invited to their house—after my seventh birthday—and whenever I asked Caroline to come to mine, her mom used to say that Caroline was going out with them and they were busy.

“Are you really busy?” I asked one time.

“I think my mommy doesn’t like your daddy because he’s in jail,” Caroline whispered.

“No, he’s not!” I protested. “My daddy came home long ago! Tell your mommy that.”

Caroline didn’t have any other special friends, and, in the end, I was invited over. I was on my very best behavior. At teatime I made sure not to talk with my mouth full and not to speak unless spoken to. When Caroline’s mother asked me about Janey, I wished I didn’t have to speak at all.

“That girl who gets you after school—she always looks a bit cheeky to me—has your mommy had her for a long time?” She was smiling her tight smile again. Her question was like a hook, and I was her little fish. I hated the way she called Janey a “girl” and “cheeky.” I wished I could tell her “My parents say it’s rude to talk about Africans like that!” But I didn’t. Instead I nodded and said, “Yes, she has.”

“Well at least they brought Lily up to be polite!” I overheard Caroline’s mom say to her dad afterward. I wanted to turn around and scream, “What do you think? Do you think we’re animals?” I should have said, “What about
you
being polite about Janey?” But I didn’t. Even with her horrible parents, I wanted Caroline to be my friend.

After my first visit, Caroline must have nagged so much that her mom finally let her come to my house. They didn’t have a pool in their garden like we did, and I think Caroline went on about it. She was also desperate to see Honey’s puppies. We were so excited, whispering in class about our plans, that we were each given a hundred lines in ink: “I must not talk in class unless my teacher asks me a question.” We had to spend a whole
lunchtime writing them at opposite ends of the classroom. Our teacher said she would know if we talked even though she was in the staff room. So we made silent signs to each other, flicking our fingers like sparklers every time we completed another ten.

Mommy had agreed to a Saturday when there wasn’t a meeting at our house. We had a great time. We cuddled the puppies, swam, and played hide-and-seek in the garden. We groaned when Caroline’s parents arrived to collect her. Daddy invited them in for a beer, and they hovered on the doorstep looking awkward.

“That’s sounds good if…” Caroline’s dad seemed ready to accept. Caroline and I pinched each other’s hand, hoping we’d get more time to play. But her mom’s red lips stretched as wide as a Venus flytrap.

“Thank you—it’s a shame we don’t really have time today! We’re actually on our way somewhere else.”

After that, however, we went to each other’s house a lot. Mostly, I was invited to Caroline’s. Her mom said she knew my parents were busy people, although really I think she thought it safer to have
us under her eye. It suited Mommy that way because of the work she and Daddy did. There was only one time when Caroline was visiting that there was an unexpected meeting at our house. Mommy called me aside and asked if we would play outside so as not to disturb the grown-ups. Later Caroline wanted to go to the bathroom. She returned in a hurry, her forehead and nose wrinkled.

“There’s a strange native inside your house! As big as a giant!” she panted. “He came out of the bathroom and went into your dad’s study!”

Then she widened her eyes in horror. She loved to make up dramas.

“Do you think he’s a burglar?”

I realized it must be Uncle Max. I bit my lip, unsure what to say.

“Shouldn’t we tell your parents?” Caroline persisted.

I shook my head.

“It’s all right. My daddy probably knows him.”

“But what’s he doing in your house? Is he your garden boy?” Caroline now looked puzzled.

I didn’t explain that Uncle Max was a friend, not a “boy.” Instead I tugged her arm.

“Jeez, I’m hot! Why don’t we go in the water
again? Race you there!”

I prayed that Caroline wouldn’t say anything to her parents or they wouldn’t let her come again. She probably realized this too because at school on Monday we exchanged sandwiches and crisps at playtime as usual. I breathed more easily.

There are two days from our friendship I’ll never forget. Our best day ever was on my ninth birthday when Caroline was invited to my birthday treat at the drive-in. My parents were taking us to see a Walt Disney film. My brother thought that
Bambi
was too babyish for him and said he wouldn’t come. I was secretly glad. He would have spoiled it all by complaining that we were being silly. Half the fun was having the backseat to ourselves and being free to giggle, gasp, and clutch each other. We oohed and aahed over Bambi and each of his forest friends. Daddy ordered a round of milk shakes, hotdogs, and chips just like all the other families in the rows of cars around us.

“Your stomach has never grown up!” Mommy teased him.

Daddy had us in stitches with his silliest jokes on the way home, and we quizzed each other about
which bits of the film we liked best. We decided the little rabbits were just the cutest of all and we would each start a rabbit collection—china ones, posters, pictures—anything with a sweet little rabbit on it. I felt so happy and I think Caroline did too. Like we were up in the air—on a seesaw.

A few months later we crashed down. Our worst day ever. The strange thing is that I can’t remember the new girl, Alice, at all that day although I’m sure she must have been somewhere in the middle of it. At break, we saw our principal holding her skirt and running across the courtyard to the staff room. Jeez, what was happening? We all stopped to watch. A minute later, she was dashing back toward her office with two teachers following her. Other teachers hurried across the grounds to the front and back gates. None of us knew what was going on until the rumor started.

“The natives are coming to attack us! They’re on their way now!”

There was panic. Someone had overheard the teachers discussing what to do. Should they keep us safe in school or try to contact our parents to come and get us? We whirled around the courtyard like crazy goldfish. Caroline hugged me madly.

“The natives are coming, Lily! Save me, save me!” she squealed.

“What can we do?” I squealed back, pleased to have Caroline hugging me and acting silly just like we had done at the drive-in. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt uncomfortable. Wouldn’t Mommy and Daddy be disgusted at how everyone was screaming about “the natives”? But what should I do when Caroline and everyone were shrieking and making me frightened too? I was saved by our principal’s voice.

“Attention girls! Line up immediately! In silence, please!”

Caroline let go of my waist and grabbed me by the hand. She gritted her teeth as if something terrifying was about to happen. I had never seen her look so pale as she pulled me to where we Standard Threes lined up. The chattering and screaming had stopped, but a few girls were actually crying. Our teachers looked as worried as mother hens trying to settle us.

Our principal explained that if we were sensible, we would come to no harm. If our parents came to get us early, we would be allowed to leave. No one should go home alone.

“How will you get home?” Caroline whispered urgently on our way back to class.

“Walk.” I was sure Mommy wouldn’t panic like the other parents. Our house wasn’t far and since Standard One I had been walking home by myself.

Caroline looked horrified.

“You can’t—and you won’t be allowed! It’s too dangerous! I’ll ask my mom if you can come with us.”

I didn’t argue. We might be allowed to spend the afternoon together and that would be fun once Caroline had calmed down.

Caroline’s mom was one of the first to arrive. She was out of breath and tottered on her high heels from running. Her face was flushed, and her voice was higher and faster. She had heard the news on the radio and wanted Lily safely at home. When Lily asked if I could come too, I thought her mom looked strangely at me for a second before nodding. She made that tight little smile of hers in my direction and turned to our teacher.

“Well, you spoil them, and this is what they do!” Her voice arched upward like her eyebrows as if to carry a special meaning.

Straight away I knew that by “them” and “they” she meant Africans. Not only that, but she was also
talking about my parents and their politics. I should have told her and Caroline, “No, thank you,” there and then. I should have said that I didn’t want their lift. But I didn’t.

When we were in the car, I asked Caroline’s mom if she could drop me at home.

“Who’s at your house? Is your mother there?”

“Janey’s there. Mommy will be home later. It’s fine.”

“Look, I’m not saying your girl can’t be trusted, but today’s not a normal day. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you! You’d better come home with us.” She gave a loud sigh.

“You’ll be safer with us
and
we get to play!” Caroline was bouncing back to her old self.

Why didn’t I tell them that Janey had looked after me since I was a baby? Why didn’t I tell them that she was one of the safest people I knew? Instead I let Caroline tell me about her new game collection.

Caroline’s mom rang Janey to tell her I was with them. I could hear her from the dining room.

“When will your Madam be back? You must tell her to ring me as soon as she comes in. Do you understand?” I’d never heard Mommy talk to
Janey like that. The voice was sharp. Frightening. I felt shivery inside. I suddenly didn’t feel like finishing my chocolate cake and pushed it away.