The Keeper of the Kumm. Sylvia Vollenhoven
inside
My flesh moves, my body shakes
Drums beating, wings flapping
The !gwe deep inside
A dream speaks falsely it’s a thing that deceives
The !gwe speaks truly it’s a thing that receives
It stirs the kumm for people to come
We sense the rain to find the game
We feel in this manner
We feel a sensation
I hear it whisper soft like my breath
In tune with my heart I follow the !gwe
Like a story in a book
The !gwe touches my ribs
The springbok are coming
I say to the children
The black hair of the springbok
Is here at my side
When a woman comes
I feel on my shoulders
The pull of the thong
Holding her child
Before the hunt my legs know
Springbok blood in the soft place
Behind my knee
My back knows springbok hairs
On my skin
We are wont to wait quietly
When the feeling comes
We feel in this manner
We feel a sensation
Our letters, our stories, in our bodies
My feet tell me
The springbok is running
Rustling the bushes
My head tells me
The horns are coming
On my face is the feel of a stripe
From my head to my nose
My eyes have become
The springbok’s eyes
We feel in this manner
We feel a sensation
Our letters, our stories, in our bodies
“Met ’n droom kan jy jou lelik vasloop,” my grandmother would say to Uncle Tienie who lived his life inspired by his nocturnal adventures. Then she switches to English, a rare thing for her and an indication of added respect. “You have to understand the difference between a dream and a vision. A vision is when the Holy Spirit talks to you.”
When Ma is with her family in Swellendam they love talking about magical things. These are the conversations I enjoy the most. They tell stories about Uncle David who fought in World War II, and say:
“As David se ou oorlog wond die dag hom pla kan jy jou kop op ’n blok sit iets onaardig gaan gebeur. Sê maar niks. Kyk die besigheid so aan. Weet hier kom ’n ding.”
It is useless to hide things from my grandmother. Like the time my unmarried mother is pregnant for the second time. She is afraid to tell anyone. Years later Ma tells me:
“As ’n vrou verwag kan jy dit sommer sien op haar gesig, haar hele uitkyk. Dit is nou iets wat jy nie vir my kan wegsteek nie. Toe jou ma my uiteindelik sê sy gaan trou, toe sê ek nou ja, maar jy’s mos al lankal in die ander tyd.”
When people meet my grandmother, they sometimes say it feels as if she sees right through you.
Old enough
The wind sang in a strange language but the girl was too fearful to ask for meaning.
Everyone is talking about my mother’s baby who will be born any day now. I leave Ma in Plumstead for a while so that I can stay in the Shalom garage with my mother and Freddie. People treat me differently. I am going to have a baby sister.
“Sylvia, pick up the mats and take them outside. Go and ask Mrs Vollenhoven if she has some rooilaventel medicine.”
My mother’s stomach is so huge she can’t bend. I feel important doing things for her but I dread the trips across the yard into the Shalom kitchen.
“Hier,” says Maggie Vollenhoven, Freddie’s mother, shoving a bottle of medicine into my hand, “en sê vir jou lui ma ek is nie ’n blêrrie chemist nie. Sy’s net pregnant, nie siek nie.”
People have given up telling me to call the Shalom matriarch Auntie Maggie. She always says things I can’t possibly repeat. I feel hot and uncomfortable when my mother asks:
“What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
Soon after moving in with my mother I’m back at Dr Shockett’s rooms. It burns when I pee and my panties are stained a funny colour.
“Have you put anything inside your private parts?”
I shake my head, trying to imagine what that could be, how it could be done and exactly where it would go.
“Are you sure you haven’t put a stick or something up there?” says the doctor, spreading my legs. He shines a light into a place for which I don’t yet have a name. My grandmother calls it ‘boksie’. If I don’t wash properly she bunches up her fingers, pretends she’s taking a chunk out of boksie, then smells it and sneezes. It always makes me laugh. Dr Shockett dabs the place between my legs with cotton wool soaked in a cold liquid. A strange sensation crawls up my spine and into my eyes.
“Don’t cry … Let her sit in salt water and rub the gentian violet on regularly.”
Now my panties are bright blue.
Late one night I open my eyes and the garage where the three of us sleep is full of people. A nurse in a white uniform is unpacking a black case. My grandmother is lighting the Primus stove. Freddie picks me up out of the cot bed where I’ve been sleeping and carries me across the yard to the Shalom lounge. My mother is drinking the cod liver oil they sometimes give me when my stomach is knotted.
Everyone in the Shalom house is awake and drinking coffee. Freddie is walking up and down smoking many cigarettes.
“Kry jou rus, Freddie. Daai kind is nog voor sonop gebore,” says Maggie Vollenhoven.
“Maar wat as dinge skeefloop?” he asks his mother.
“Ons sal die dokter bel,” she replies. “Dis nie asof dit haar eerste keer is nie.”
There is a large black Bakelite telephone on the sideboard. The Vollenhovens are the only people in the whole of Brentwood Road who have a phone. Everyone knows the number: 77807. Sometimes Maggie has to go call neighbours several houses away to come to the phone.
Suddenly there is a thin wailing sound coming from the garage and everyone rushes out of the kitchen door and across the yard.
“Sylvia, you have a baby sister,” says my grandmother, pointing at a screaming pink bundle with a mass of spiky pitch-black hair.
Soon my sister Loretta has a huge curl on the top of her forehead, a bit like her father’s Tony Curtis hairstyle. I see her only at weekends and I can just barely pick her up, she’s so big. My mother now calls the Vollenhovens Mama and Derra, just like Freddie, Noelene and Sybil. When my sister begins to talk, and later, when my brothers arrive, they follow my mother’s example. I always call them Mr and Mrs Vollenhoven. Nobody ever tells me to change. I feel everyone is relieved that I don’t want to embrace the Shalom people in any way.
My sister somehow makes me feel less afraid of the Vollenhovens. Maggie likes showing Lottie off to visitors. Everyone talks about how beautifully straight her hair is.