The tractor rumbles up to the front door, and greetings descend from the team in the trailer. I load myself onto the trailer and very quickly Thembankosi, back from leave, asks if I liked the second knob-kierie. Yes, very much thanks. He is happy with the response and takes my bag from me, puts his lunchbox inside and proudly slings it onto his back – a test drive before he inherits the bag in 3 weeks.
Slashing grass up on Bischoffs, right in the north, is hard work. One team on the outer fence. One team on the second, inner, buffalo fence. This whole area should just be sand, and any grass growing up against the electric fence just sucks the electricity.
Between sessions of slashing, we all stop for a rest. And a chat. “Do you think the government puts AIDS in our food?” Patrick asks me in Zulu. And in all serisousness. “If not, well then how do you get it?” My response draws another question. A brief, no doubt poor explanation in Zulu merely draws another question, “But then how did it start?” My knowledge on this is shaky at best, and my Zulu far from adequate to describe what little I do know, but the conversation is really interesting.
It’s getting hot and Lakhize is on the radio with the rest of the team, on their way from Mandatane staff village. “Please bring some ‘crocodile’s house’ with you” he asks. Water, he means. To drink. Of course.
Its community land just the other side of the fence and a herd of cows lazily wander past. Where are the herd boys I wonder out loud. And then two youngsters appear. Thembankosi and Patrick call them over. And then send them off to get water. Barefooted they move off and disappear between the trees, soon returning with a tea pot of water and a cup. I join Patrick and Thembankosi waiting for them. “He is a white man, but he is also human, like us. So don’t be scared” Thembankosi reassures them. They don’t seem too worried by me and his words are perhaps a little unnecessary, but amusing nevertheless.
Rather boring, very tiring work but some good Zulu practice today.
“He is a white man, but he is also human, like us. So don’t be scared” I have to question your understanding of this, was the word you translated as human umuntu by any chance, quite possibly it was - this allows for a broad translation then It seems a bit wrong when put into english as human - yes umuntu means person, black person sure - not exactly human - a common zulu term for us whites is umlungu (scum from the sea) but some of us prefer being called umuntu imhlophe - white person
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