Calvinia's Blaze: Chapter 4

We enter a difficult time in this chapter and the concentration is on a lingering doubt regarding debt and upcoming events. The Vleisfees and the Boerevereniging meeting doesn’t take place in this chapter. But the next chapter will solely be those two events. Enjoy the life circles of a family trying to survive the Karoo and what life throws their way.

Blaze and Boetie were playing outside. The frosty winter July mornings were finally giving way to warmer, sunny days. The little runt pup, Flash, was playing with his siblings whilst Bessie, their mother, watched from the side enjoying the break from the constant feeds. Boetie was laughing delightfully as the pups climbed on top of him trying to get in as many licks as possible. Blaze sat on their outside rug smiling.

A toot-toot sounded. It was Pieter coming back from the town, and his face lit up as he saw his two beloved children enjoying the sun. He had been to the post office, and the official brown envelope on the seat beside him looked ominous. His temporary demise vanished when his children ran up to the bakkie with the pups trailing behind. He swung Boetie up and turned in circles – a happy Boetie screamed with laughter. He put him down and drew Blaze in for a cuddle.

“Jong, but the little pups are getting bigger,” he said, bending to pick up Flash. “This little guy is getting bigger despite our worries, hey Blaze.” He handed the pup back to Blaze.

The children returned to their spot and Pieter took the steps up into the house. He walked into his study, calling to Lindiwe to bring him a cup of koffie. He put the brown envelope aside and opened the rest of the mail. Bills, receipts, pamphlets and Church bulletin, you name it. Sonja walked in bringing him his boeretroos.

“Hallo Skat, any briewe for me?” she asked, placing the mug in front of him.

“Nee Liefling, just the normal. But there is a letter from the Educational Department.” He opened the brown envelope, took a moment to read through the letter. His face remained unreadable to Sonja.

“Ja, ek het dit verwag!” (I expected this). He gave the letter to his wife.

She glanced over it and shook her head. “Pieter, this is an embarrassment!” she said, perching at the edge of the desk.

They continued to discuss this bone of contention. Sonja overwhelmingly believed that it was time for Blaze to integrate into society here in Calvinia, but Pieter felt that it was too late for her to go to the local primary school and be subjected to bullying. He suggested that Blaze be home-schooled and he would look into this straight away. He was quite adamant, and Sonja eventually agreed, but he could feel her unwavering disappointment.

Sonja left and closed the door with intent. Pieter sighed. This was an emotional topic and he hoped that his suggestion would suffice. He picked up a few more letters and noted down the date of the Boerevereniging meeting in the middle of August. It was just before the Hantam Vleisfees which was the last weekend of the month. He must put aside three sheep for donation to the food festival. His eyes scanned the rest of the letter; this year the society had arranged to showcase the best ewes and rams.

Sonja walked into her sewing room, picked up the phone, and rang the telefoon sentraal. (Telephone Central). “Môre môre, Ansie. Can you put me through to Sarie Bezuidenhout please.”

“Sarie – hallo. Hoe gaan dit (how are you). Regarding the konfyt that we will be selling at the Fees. How many jars do you think we should make?”

They spoke for several minutes and a satisfied Sonja put the phone down and walked into the kitchen to chat with Lindiwe.

“Lindi, this time of the year again. Sarie has confirmed that we need at least two hundred jars of konfyt. The Blou Bos and the Jakkals Bos bushes have been good this year and we have enough fruit for fifty jars each.” Sonja sat at the kitchen table.

“Ma Sonja, the fruit is ready. We can also do perske and green fig preserve too.” She took her notebook over to the table.

Sonja and Lindiwe spoke about the quantity and when they would do the batches. Sonja looked out of the kitchen, a smile on her face. She enjoyed the community and loved being active. Her jams were a success and she always had repeat customers. But Sonja knew this year’s sale was different. With the whispers about Pieter’s debt, her konfyt had to be spectacular, a silent, delicious weapon against the judgment of women like Hester Rautenbach, whose stall was always placed closest to the main entrance.

Life on the farm was its usual busy self. Blaze enjoyed her long rides on Bliksem, and her reading and arithmetic lessons with Lindiwe were fun. Boetie was growing up into a lovely young child. His laughter in the house was always such a joy. Preparations for the Vleisfees were underway and Pieter was in his study preparing for the meeting. Sonja’s dressmaking was talk of the town and her diary was full.

Pieter sourced a few schoolteachers with the help of the Educational Department. At first, they were adamant that Blaze was to join the local primary school, but after Pieter explained their fears they accepted. He had arranged interviews with three of the teachers. He sat back in his chair. Their finances were touch and go. Would they be able to cover for a full-time teacher? He looked at his bank statement and ledger. After a few gruelling hours listing all possible outgoing and incomings, he was pleased that they would be able to fund a teacher. The cost was huge, but possible. Now, if only the Boerevereniging would accept his financial report and if Rascal thier prized ram could perform at the showcase, they might actually breathe again. His dilemma was a room for her.

He walked into Sonja’s sewing room and sat on the extra chair.

“I have set up appointments to meet with the teachers who will home school Blaze.” He looked at Sonja and saw her face harden.

“Ja, I heard you on the phone. You know my feelings. But let’s do this and see how it goes.” She touched his hand lightly.

“One of the teachers is from Kaapstad. If she is the chosen teacher, she will need to board with us.” He stood up, stretched, and walked to the door.

“I am sure we will sort something, Pieter. The attic could be a good place – it is big enough. The light up there is lovely, and we can partition it for a study place for Blaze.” She picked up her sewing and watched Pieter walk out.

Days stretched and evenings were short. Everyone was glad that the days were warming up a little. Every bit of sunshine was occupied by a dog or human on break. Blaze loved these crisp, sharp days. Her help in the vegetable garden was paying off. She enjoyed sowing seeds and filling pots with soil for the seedlings. Danie, their gardener, was so happy for her help. This kind was immense help as his arthritic hands felt so painful in winter.

The pocket money was for saving. Lindiwe said that she should put the few rand that her dad gave her for the help away into her money box. For a rainy day, she explained. Blaze just giggled.

Pieter was seen driving off to the neighbour’s – they had one hundred sheep stolen. Too close for comfort. He and a few other farmers were assisting with securing the perimeter of their farm. A difficult and tedious time. The thieves were getting quite resourceful. Most perimeters weren’t fenced – some farmers were only putting in wire fences in recent years. Legislation was becoming stricter. The thieves were taking advantage of these farmers.

Each morning saw Pieter up early, setting tasks for his farm hands and then driving off to Dederik Swanepoel’s farm to assist with fencing. The days were long and he was so glad when a week later the final pole went in and the last wires strung. Dederik was so grateful. During that time Pieter and Dederik found a newfound friendship. A new farmer to the area, Dederik was young and a single man. He inherited the farm from his uncle who had passed away, but years of neglect reduced the farm to a virtual standstill. Pieter was determined to help this young boereseun. He already promised him regular help and guidance.

He drove away from the Swanepoel farm happy but tired. The future seemed less pressurised. With Sonja’s income, he saw that their future wasn’t as dire as originally thought. Sonja was busy with the jam making and that would bring in a tidy profit too.

Blaze was at the kaggel, shelling peas. Pieter was amazed at the way she took over tasks as if they were her natural go-to every day. His heart truly belonged to this child. He greeted her with a kiss on her forehead and sat at the kitchen table.

“Pa looks moeg (tired),” she smiled.

“Yes, my kind, very long day, but we finished the fencing.” He sighed.

Lindiwe continued with the evening meal. Sonja and Boetie joined them, Boetie crawling onto his Pa’s lap for a snuggle. After dinner, the quiet of the night settled quickly.

The sharp ringing of the telephone shattered the dawn.

Lindiwe knocked on the main bedroom door. “Meneer, can you come? Your mother is on the phone.”

Pieter grabbed his gown, pulling it on as he hurried down the passage. “Hallo Ma. Alles goed (all good)?”

“Sorry to bother you so early, my son. Your dad asked me to call. Can you and Sonja come over later? Your dad wants to speak to you.”

“Okay Ma, do you know what it is about?”

“It is better he tells you himself, my son,” she said with a calm finality.

The sentence hung in the air. His mother was never one for fuss, but her “better he tells you himself” landed with a subtle weight that banished Pieter’s smile. A knot of worry tightening in his gut, he went to get dressed, ready to start the day.

Pieter drove the bakkie down the driveway separating their farm from the main property and onto the dirt road direction Calvinia. The drive was silent, heavy. Sonja sat ramrod straight, staring at the distant line of blue mountains.

“He said he wanted to talk to us both,” Sonja said finally, the words clipped. “This is about our finances, isn’t it? Your father doesn’t call before dawn unless there’s a disaster.”

Pieter swallowed, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “It’s never a disaster, Liefling. Just… management.” He didn’t believe himself. He was already rehearsing his reply if he was asked about his debt.

As they pulled onto the long, well-maintained dirt road leading to the main house, Pieter felt a pang of nostalgia. This farm, Tamboerskloof, where he grew up, was an amazing place. This was the inheritance. He’d always known that one day, this wide, stable land would be his. Now, he wondered if that future had dissolved overnight.

Oupa sat at the head of the dining room table, a large map of the farm spread across the mahogany surface. Tannie poured coffee, her expression unusually serious.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Oupa began, pushing the map toward them. “I’ll get straight to it. Tannie and I are done with the big life. We’ve been talking about retirement for years.” He tapped a boundary line on the map. “The Calvinia Town Council approached us three months ago. They want this land, right up to the R27, for a major housing development.”

Pieter just stared, confusion overriding his fear. “But… why the rush, Pa?”

Oupa smiled, a broad, triumphant Karoo smile. “Because they are desperate, my boy. And they offered a price that is, frankly, biblical.” He named a figure that made Pieter’s ears ring.

Sonja gasped, a sharp, involuntary sound.

Pieter felt a dizzying mix of elation and sickness. The money - that sum could wipe out his entire inherited debt and give them ten years of security. But the land, his birthright, was gone.

“You... you sold the farm, Pa?” Pieter asked, his voice rough.

“We accepted the offer yesterday. The contract is signed. It’s done, Pieter. The land is no longer ours. But the money is more than enough to set up five generations comfortably. And that brings us to the second part of the plan.” Oupa leaned back, his eyes twinkling, clearly proud of his business acumen.

Oupa cleared his throat, confirming the inevitable. “The old farmhouse on your place? The one near the vlei? It’s far enough away for privacy, but close enough that we can help. Tannie and I want to take it. Save money on a retirement home, and that is not what we want. We’ll hire builders, update it completely - insulation, kitchen, everything. We’ll live there. Right next to you.”

Sonja’s face, which had been pale with financial relief, now turned a fiery, mottled red. Her hands clenched beneath the table. The privacy, the independence she cherished - all of it threatened. Pieter on the otherhand smiled inwardly, he liked the idea.

Tannie, sensing the shift in the air, walked around the table to stand beside Sonja, placing a comforting but firm hand on her shoulder.

“My kind,” Tannie said softly, her voice carrying a deep, reassuring weight. “I’m only coming there as a safety net. I’m only there to help with the children when you are busy with your projects. You won’t even know we’re there, dear. My years of the Vroue Landbou Unie are verby (over).”

The comment was a perfectly polished knife. Sonja could see the implication: Tannie had already succeeded in the VLU; Sonja was still a novice struggling to prove herself, and now the expert was moving in to “help.”

Pieter, however, could only focus on the colossal weight lifted from his shoulders. “You’re selling, and you’re moving in. But Pa... the debt... the farm...”

Oupa reached over and placed a large, calloused hand on his son’s. “The money is split, Pieter. A substantial deposit is already in your account, covering everything. You are free of the ghosts, my boy. And we will be nearby. It’s perfect.” A small tear appeared at the corner of his eye. He wiped it away with his sakdoek (handkerchief).

The meeting ended quickly after that. Tannie made them stay for a brief, tense cup of tea, ensuring the conversation stayed light, focused entirely on the children and weather. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken financial relief and looming territorial war.

Finally, Pieter and Sonja managed to take their leave. The moment Pieter slammed the bakkie door shut, the silence of the cab was broken by a sound that Pieter knew well: the high, sharp edge of Sonja’s control slipping.

She folded her arms tight across her chest, eyes fixed ahead.

“My kind,” Sonja spat, perfectly mimicking Tannie’s voice now. “A safety net. My years with the Vroue Landbou Unie are verby.”

Pieter was still riding the dizzying high of relief. He risked a wide smile.

“Sonja, that number, that deposit - the debt is gone. Do you understand? The bank, the lawyer, all of it. Finished.”

“Finished?” She turned sharply toward him. “Or just moved, Pieter? They’re moving in. Onto our land.”

He hesitated.

“She’s not coming for a rest,” Sonja went on, her voice lifting again. “She’s coming to watch me. To measure every jar of jam against her mythical past glory.”

“The house is by the vlei,” he said. “It’s far enough. And she’s only trying to help with the children while you’re busy.”

“I don’t need help with the children,” Sonja snapped. “I need space. I need to breathe. And what about Tamboerskloof, Pieter? Your inheritance - sold off for matchbox houses.”

“We were never going to run that land,” he said. “We have enough here. My father gave us a clean slate. He secured this farm for good.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I don’t have to win at the Vleisfees anymore. I don’t need to risk Rascal to prove anything.”

Sonja went very still. The buzzing didn’t stop; it sharpened.

“You don’t get it,” she said quietly.

Pieter felt the shift then.

“This changes everything,” she said. “Now I have to win. Every jar. Every lid. Every label.”
She turned to him at last.
“Your mother is going to watch me fail, Pieter. And I will not be the foolish little bride who needed her father-in-law to rescue her.”

Her voice dropped, steady and dangerous.
“I will do this on my own. And I will not be forgettable.”

Pieter exhaled slowly. The debt was gone - but the pressure had simply changed hands.

The next day, it settled over the farm like dust that would not lift.

The change in the house was immediate and confusing for Blaze. Ma was not merely busy; she was vibrating with fury and purpose, her voice often rising to a high, screeching pitch as she demanded perfect quiet for her work.

Blaze, confused by the shift in the adult world and the sudden absence of her calm father, sought refuge in her own way. She put the bridle on Bliksem, jumped onto his bare back, and rode him hard until they reached the farthest boundary of the farm, stopping at the towering, skeletal windmill. She climbed the ladder until she was high up, the vast, silent Karoo spreading out beneath her.

She thought about God again. Where was He in this change, she wondered.

From this height, the farm looked simple again. She sat there, dangling her legs, thinking. The imminent arrival of her Oupa and Ouma was a powerful, complicated emotion. Blaze had lost years with these people; they were the source of some of her pain, yet they were family. She was intensely excited to be closer to them, to reclaim a piece of the history that had been denied to her, but also acutely cautious of their presence. They were powerful, and they were the reason her Ma was now a live wire. Her Pa seemed lighter. He smiled more.

Little Boetie, sensitive to noise and disorder, became increasingly whiny and clingy. He followed Lindiwe around the kitchen, his lower lip perpetually trembling. The usual joy of the house had been replaced by a tense, brittle silence punctuated by Sonja’s sharp demands. Most of the time Lindiwe tied him onto her back with a blanket – this quietened the poor soul.

In the kitchen, the chaos was most pronounced. Jars clattered, patterns for Sonja’s dresses lay piled up, and Sonja’s sharp voice cut through the air. Yet there was Lindiwe, a rock of practical sanity. With her small notepad, she moved through the whirlwind, calmly documenting konfyt quantities and the precise measurements for the teachers’ attic room renovation, bringing simplicity to chaos. She was the silent anchor keeping the household from drifting entirely into the sea of anxiety.

Pieter could not bear the atmosphere. He knew he was the root cause of both the relief and the renewed tension, and he retreated from Sonja’s relentless energy. He made himself scarce, climbing back into the bakkie to visit Dederik Swanepoel at his newly secured farm. He didn’t just go to help with the fencing; he went to check how Dederik was coping since the sheep theft — a question that was really an inquiry into his own soul. He sought the quiet companionship of another man facing the hard, simple problems of the land, rather than the complex, emotional problems of his own marriage and family.

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