Calvinia's Blaze: Chapter Two

Winter in the Karoo

Winter in the Karoo

Winter was setting in. Blaze was reluctant to get out of her warm bed in the morning to do her chores. She was always thankful that Lindiwe put her clothes by the kaggel in the kitchen to warm them up. Her Ma had knitted her some warm Merino wool socks and thick jerseys. Her wonderful ways with her Singer sewing machine meant she had loads of flannel pants and blouses to wear too. Her dad bought her a Khaki coat from the Co-op in the dorp. Her muts and gloves were so warm and helped keep the cold off her fingers in the early morning.

Lindiwe always had a cup of tea and bottermelk rusks ready to have before she went out in the cold. Whilst drinking her tea and dunking her rusks, she heard her Pa start the Studebaker bakkie. Looking out the window, she saw his pale face as he drove by. She didn’t eavesdrop, but fragments of Ma’s and Pa’s worried talks of dwindling feed and not much cash, had drifted to her ears in the kitchen. Seeing his pale, drawn face flash past the window confirmed the truth: this winter held more than usual worries. It held a great, unspoken risk.

The Dorpers were Pa’s biggest gamble this year. Winter was always a trying time for the farmers in the Karoo; work started before the sun rises, and the cracking ice and numb hands were just part of life. But now, with Meneer du Toit’s challenge hanging over them, Pa moved with a tight, anxious haste. Every cracked trough, every frozen pipe, felt like a personal failure when his reputation was on the line. She remembered the Dorpers’ arrival; Pa had allowed her to go with him in the bakkie with the trailer attached to fetch a hundred and fifty of them from his farm.

Pulling on her muts and fingerless gloves Blaze walked to the back door. Time for her chores. First thing was feeding the guard dogs. She broke the ice on the water bowls emptying the water and putting clean water into the bowls. She then grabbed the sakkies of dry food and filled up the bowls. When that was done, she checked in on Bessie the Brindal Staffie. She was heavily pregnant with her first litter. She was kept in the corner of the barn on empty mealie sacks. Blaze gave her water and her bowl of dry food. Bessie’s tail wagged nine to the dozen. Blaze sat with her for a moment feeling the pups move in her belly. This was such ecstasy for her.

Blaze let the family dogs out of the laundry room where they slept at night. They weren’t allowed into the house. Lappies and Donner. They were both Jack Russels and young and playful. She fed them and gave them clean water too. She played with them for a bit but her other tasks still waited. Bliksem was next. She walked into the stable and he snickered and moved his head up and down. She rubbed his nose and whispered into his ear. Her love for this horse was immense. She let him out into the field just in front of the homestead. He galloped around the field throwing up his back legs. She just laughed. She chipped the ice off the trough and filled it with clean water for him. She smiled as she walked past the cows grazing in the side field. They were mostly for milk, butter and cream. Thankfully not part of her morning chores. The farmhands would see to them each day.

Her heart, was so full of the quiet love of the animals. They were her joy in this friendless world. She picked the vegetables that Linidiwe asked for, rinsed them in the laundry room. She ran into the kitchen dropped the vegetables onto the sink and took the sack containing two flasks filled with black coffee and a bag of rusks. She knew Pa and Jantjie would be finishing their first check of the farthest kraals now, the ones where the Dorpers were kept. It was time to see if the gamble had paid off.

Blaze ran out of the back door the cold hit her face with a sudden, stinging shock, yet her heart felt warm from the rush of her chores. She called to Bliksem, who was already cantering toward the gate, ready to follow her command.

She swung onto his broad back, her jersey scratchy against her skin, and pressed her knees lightly into his sides. They moved out quickly toward the farthest kraal, the high stone walls a dark line against the vast, frosty veld. The rhythmic crunch of Bliksem’s hooves on the cold, hard earth was the only sound. She loved the crisp morning. The air felt dry and brittle. The sky, harsh blue, empty of the soft clouds of summer. They looked bright but held no warmth. Cantering through the sparse vegetation and the dry brown scrub was joy. The red dust was too cold to rise making her ride over to the kraals pleasant.

As they neared the enclosure, Blaze saw the flock huddled together for warmth. The air was so intensely cold that plumes of thick, white vapour, the asem (breath), erupted from the nostrils of every single Dorper. The effect was immediate and stark it looked like the kraal was smouldering, or that the sheep were breathing out the cold itself.

She saw Pa Pieter and Jantjie moving among the sheep, their own breath rising in ragged, impatient bursts as they counted and inspected the new breed. The atmosphere felt heavy and tense, thick not only with the sheep’s warm, visible breath, but with the pressure of Pa’s great, unspoken risk.

“More Pa. Here is your koffie and rusks.” Blaze passed over the sack to her Pa. He took it gratefully.

“Jantjie, leave that for the moment. Koffie break. We need it.” They walked over to the Studebaker and hopped inside away from the cold. Blaze sat in the middle.

“Pa are the Dorpers okay?” Her Pa took a sip of the koffie. He turned to her and smiled. She saw relief on his face.

“Ja. They are going to be fine. Some have lost a bit of weight but Meneer du Toit is bringing some feed over later today.” He sighed and looked over at Jantjie.

“Jantjie, what do you say?”

“Meneer, ja, we have a good herd. I will go and start the counting now. I have a feeling we may have lost a few.”

Pa looked over at him and nodded. “Yes, finish your koffie and rusk, I will join you in a short while.”

Jantjie finished his koffie, put his gloves and muts on and got out of the Studebaker and closed the door softly. He walked away eating the remainder of his rusk.

“Pa, he is a good ou. I like him. He is always kind to me.” Blaze said looking out the window watching him walk away.

“Yes, my girl, I am very happy. We were lucky to get him after Tinus walked out. He is a very hard worker.” He finished his koffie, put his gloves and muts on.

“Blaze, I have a task for you. I want you to count the pregnant Dorpers. Can you do that? Also, I want you to tell me how many are bigger in the belly than the others.”

“Oh, Pa that will be easy. Thank you.” She smiled and got out of the bakkie and started to walk away – she realised she forgot her muts and gloves. Her Pa smiled and threw them over to her. She lauged, the sound ringing like warmth on the cold veld. She loved helping her Pa. She walked over to the kraal and started to count. Her lessons with Lindiwe were paying off. She quickly saw which sheep had bigger bellies and started to count those. When she finished, she got through the others quickly and went to give the count to her Pa.

As she walked away from her Pa, she noticed one of the sheep struggling to walk. She went over and grabbed the sheep and turned it onto its side and shushed it until it settled. She checked over the legs of the sheep and noticed a swelling just above the hoof. She called her Pa. He came over and checked with her.

“We must take this sheep back to the homestead and I will get the vet out to see her.” He went to fetch Jantjie.

“Pa, wait. You don’t need the vet. We can do it ourselves. Lindiwe fixes the dogs when they have sores. Vet is expensive.” She said walking over to Bliksem.

“Ja, Blaze. You could be right. Ok let us take the sheep back to the farm and see what we can do.” Jantjie and Pieter lifted the sheep onto the bakkie. Pa drove back to the farm.

Blaze cantered Bliksem back to the homestead, the wind lifting the silver streak in her hair. Pa Pieter had trusted her knowledge, and the relief of the Dorper issue was momentarily forgotten. The sheep crisis was managed. Now, with the Dorpers healthy and ready for the lambing season the worry shifted from the kraal to the dorp. In two weeks, was the meeting with Boerevereniging (Farmer’s Association). There the pending Vleisfeest (Meat Festival) in August would be discussed together with the forthcoming lambing season. The farmers were worried about the winter season this year. The problem with sheep theft was one of the topics this year.

Lindiwe’s salve did the trick on the sheep. It took a week and was in the veld again. The weeks went on without crisis but the cold temperatures increased. Sitting next to the kaggel with Lindiwe doing lessens was better than being in the biting cold. Boetie’s birthday was coming up and Ma was busy with putting together arrangements for a family Sunday lunch. The Vroue Landbou Unie was still her joy and Blaze saw that her Ma got a lot of pleasure out of being busy for various events. Pa had gifted her Ma a bigger cutting table and she was now making wedding dresses. Lindiwe still did the baking for the Unie and she loved to help with making cakes. Blaze was thankful for the busy days. Winter was boring and most of her days were indoors as it was bitterly cold outside.

The week before the party Ma spoke to Blaze.

“Johanna, I have made you a new dress for Boetie’s birthday. Come try it on.” They walked into the sewing room. Blaze was surprised. She was normally kept away from any gatherings. Lately Ma was a little softer with Blaze.

Blaze tried on the dress. It was gorgeous. A rich Plum colour, long sleeves with white cuffs, and a high white collar. Her Ma gave her a shoe box. There in the box was a pair of black patent leather shoes with a small strap and silver buckle and a pair of socks with lace around the top edge. Her eyes welled with tears. This was her first pair of formal beautiful shoes. She ran over to her Ma and hugged her. Ma pushed her gently away and walked over to the table to get the pin cuff. Putting on her wrist she asked Blaze to step onto the stoel so that she could do the hem.

That night helping Lindiwe in the kitchen she discussed the lunch party. Lindiwe smiled. The first time nonna would be sitting at the table with family. She would make sure that Blaze’s hair was properly braided to hide the silver. Lindiwe made a note to get a piece of the material of the dress to match up a ribbon. Seeing this happy child pleased Lindiwe so much. She was very precious to her. Deep within her heart she knew this brave kind (child) had some surprises forthcoming. Time would tell.

Boetie’s second birthday arrived. On Sunday morning her parents went to Church with Ouma and Oupa van der Westhuizen and Gran and Grandad Venter her Ma’s parents. Pa’s sister would be coming up from Cape Town. Blaze was nervous but so excited. Lindiwe had already braided her hair and she sat by the kaggel in the kitchen reading. Boetie was playing with the new trekker he got for his birthday from Lindiwe and the farmhands. He would open his other presents after lunch just before his nap.

The house was loud, thick with the sound of adult voices and the sharp scent of Ma Sonja’s best cleaning polish. Blaze stood in the quiet hallway with Lindiwe, the plum-coloured dress feeling stiff and new. Lindiwe’s work was meticulous; the silver streak was a faint shadow, hidden beneath tightly braided chestnut strands, and Plum ribbon.

“It is time, nonna,” Lindiwe whispered, adjusting the lace on Blaze’s new socks. “Walk tall.” A small sigh escaped her lips as she watched her walk away. A tear eased out her eye as she went back into the kitchen to check on the food preparation.

Blaze stepped through the doorway.

The dining room, normally used only for formal occasions, was packed. Ouma and Oupa van der Westhuizen were seated stiffly, their faces etched with the stern judgment Blaze knew too well. Ma’s parents, Gran and Grandad Venter, smiled warmly from the corner.

But the silence that fell was not of judgment; it was of surprise.

Pa Pieter, talking loudly to a neighbour, stopped mid-sentence. He slowly turned, and when he saw Blaze, a strange, profound change crossed his face. He saw not the “strange girl,” but a beautiful child, his child. A deep, steady smile broke through his usual anxiety. His eyes, normally fixed on the horizon, rested entirely on her. He looked proud.

Ma Sonja, standing by the sideboard directing the flow of tea, watched her daughter. The dress was perfect, the shoes immaculate. A single, unauthorized tear slipped past her eye. She turned her head instantly, pretending to adjust a vase, brushing the moisture away before anyone else, especially her own critical mother, could see it.

Then, Pa Pieter’s sister from Cape Town, Tannie Elize, detached herself from the group. She was tall, with a kind, open face. She walked directly to Blaze, dropping to her knees so their eyes were level. Elize didn’t study the braid or the dress; she simply embraced Blaze, a tight, genuine hug that smelled of town perfume and soft wool.

“My beautiful Blaze,” Elize murmured, holding her at arm’s length. “You are truly the loveliest thing in this house.” Blaze looked at her aunt, and the resemblance - the set of the jaw, the clear gaze, was remarkable. It was the first time Blaze had seen a reflection of herself that felt wholly safe and kind.

For a moment, in that beautiful, plum dress, Blaze was not a disappointment or a risk but simply loved. Boetie came running over and hugged her legs.

For now, nestled between the soft wool of her aunt’s embrace, boetie hugging her legs, and the pride in her father’s eye, Blaze paused, unaware that this one day of acceptance was only the quiet prelude to the noise of the coming months, the lambing, the Vleisfeest and the making of her silence.

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