At once Bastiaan brought me to sit withinside. He commanded tea. Bastiaan was headservant there, or captain, a Xhosa, very fierce, to me. He was like Ken Gampu. His head was shaved. He wore fine suits. He took away my letter of reference, leaving me. Those carpets were soft, to make you wish to spring about. My plate was gold-ringed. My serviette was in a bracelet.
I saw this master was one for fish and the sea. All on the walls were caught fish, as thick-through as dogs, made hard and shining. Save for pilchards, we Batswana do not trust in fish. Far in the north, the Mmukushu are fish-eating, but we do not know them well and they are from Angola, really.
At once I was brought farther, to Mma Wren. It was by day, yet she wore dark glasses. She was white-haired and white-dressed. She discussed with Bastiaan about my letter, a time, discerning me through those dark glasses. She said Are you quiet? Because here we are quiet. It was true, because that staff was quiet-spoken, differing to the shouting and ragging staffs of houses roundabout Jarvises. She said she regretted as to my mother. She pressed my hands. She wore gold finger rings and gold hair clips. She was little. Then it was fixed. I may come and toil amongst all those treasures.
Those maids were as cruel as nurses. I alone of all Batswana in that place refused to laugh against Mma Wren in secret. They would speak insults of her in Setswana at any time, if only Bastiaan was not nearby, of course. They said I must think what fanciful meaning I can say for my surname when she shall ask me. They said she was well-pleased when Bibiana Matlhapeng told that her name meant “There are too many rocks in this place,” and as well when Kebonyetsala Gaolekwe told that her surname says “You cannot do anything to God.” But I said those were true meanings. They said You are just argumental. They said You must be fanciful and please her, she is like a child. They said Others have done so. They said She is ever saying we Batswana are too mean at times with naming our children, as when Bibiana named her son Molebi, “He who is ever staring at you.” They said She says it is not fair on children and she bothers us on this, extremely. As well, they said Mma Wren is ever asking why certain kind of English first-names are given, as, Extra, or Fabric. They said She must not tell Tswana people how to put names, yet she does so. They said But we name our children as we please, and we give names as Beauty or Idol, if we please, so this white woman must just cease. They said she torments them. They said You shall see, she shall carry you Daily News asking why is this man named as Icks, or Slow, or Lucifer.
In those days Mma Wren must no longer drive freely on her own, but only go about with Bastiaan or Rra Wren. It was because when once she was driving, she stopped in North Ring Road but not pulling to one side, these women said, because she wished to chase up an albino boy. They said Mma Wren stated that this boy was over-red from sunlight and that albinos could die thus, they must all wear broad hats in summertime. Those women said She is mental, that is all, she is mental. They said Now she is held from driving, as she made commotions in North Ring. She is bewitched, they said, she has transgressed something, so she has become mental, and it is we alone who must suffer. And they said The master bought that Peugeot for a present for her alone, at one time. She fears fires, they said.
At Wrens we were Tswana in our food: mealie and sorghum. We must join to stamp mealie. Those women would beg and tease to make me join. Food from the table was sent for the dogs, and these women saw it, bemoaning. But worse by far was about the fruits, because Mma Wren must have filled-full baskets in every room, of apples and bananas growing spots, and these fruits were just lost. But I said this rule was good, in fact, because those women would scheme about who is to get this or so, as to who would be favored. We were too many. As to stamping, in secret I liked it because at each stroke I fancied I am stamping down God and his snares, to become safe. When the drought came, you could not buy costly fruit, so these women raged the more. But they watched against Bastiaan, who can hear as far as birds.
Rra Wren’s many books were fit for a thief, with gold letters and all such things. You cannot ask to loan such books, I knew. So I was silent. For speaking English, those maids refused me every way. They said I was tormenting them. Some Batswana tell you everything of English is just torment and that some day it shall be thrown down. At school, if you should speak Setswana in the hearing of teachers, it was told to you it would bring strokes. But that was false. Many Batswana teachers spoke Setswana in classes, with no shame. The cur Sebina told that head boys must report on Setswana-speaking at play-times or revision, but never did they. I was brave many times to say back words in English for Setswana said by older boys, but they came to hate me and said I was a traitor and scheming Mokgalagadi.
I was caring for that rose bower above all. After midday it was allowed for staff to sleep, but I alone would not sleep on many days, but would at times be found reading in St. Joseph. Now, Mma Wren could as well be found in that bower, under the net-shade, with some drinks. Those maids ragged me for not sleeping as they did. Ever slowly, Mma Wren grew kind to me. She asked my name over again. She said I must sit in a chair, not upon the ground, for reading. Those maids said Why must you go that side to read? — you can read here, we have chairs if you greatly love to sit in a chair, you can do so among us. Of course, Batswana must ever love best to lie or sit at ease upon the earth, as we know. They said I was seeking favor. That was their way, always, yet all were strong Christians. Mma Wren saw I was one for books. So she said can I be most careful if she finds some precious books for me to read? She said I must never harm or mislay them, only. I said yes. Always she repeated how precious were these books to come. She would give me one at one time and I must return it back to her perfect as she gave it to me. She said these were the most precious books to a boy, she knew it. Over again I said I would be glad.
She came forth with one book. It was Erik Noble and the Forty-Niners the Big Little Book. It was old, from 1934, with pages breaking. It was one picture-page, one writing-page, all repeating up to the end. Many pages were spoiled with handwriting of a name, Brian. I read that book, sweating strings lest I break some page of it. It is about the orphan boy Erik Noble. After many countless adventures and missteps, he becomes a partner of a kind man. They make a café in San Francisco, California, at the end. I must always remember those last words, With a young Yankee watching the cash, their enterprise had to succeed. I handed back that book unharmed. She said I must relate how I liked that book. I said In America there is very much helping of lone boys if only they are bold and glad to work their hardest, but if it is so today I am not sure. She said she knew all boys loved these Big Littles and she must search to find yet more, for she had another at present time lost.
Bastiaan came to me. He said Your duties are altered, we shall say you are to work inside for training to become a steward, but it is untrue because you are too young. But Mma Wren wished me at her orders, it seems. He said she was greatly favoring me in this. Above all else, I must never put my hand to cleaning, for there would be cries unending from the house staff, but I must always say I am steward-in-training, full stop. He said Perhaps there shall be some assisting Mma Wren in cutting out of pictures from journals. But there was one room, called the sewing room, where I must pitch up every day and see what was to be. At other times she would see to my English, with lessons. Bastiaan was crossed, I saw. He said I was to be under him alone, and the mistress and master, and never under the kitchen maids, despite them. At some times I must take meals with Mma Wren, if she commanded it. He brought me to Rra Wren and left me.