The covenant - James A. Michener [527]
'My father rode with him. I used to live with him.'
Both the Saltwoods gasped, and they spent the next fifteen minutes asking about his father's experiences on commando, after which Mrs. Saltwood said, 'Noel, we really must put someone to the job of compiling the record of the black commandos. On both sides. Their stories must be incredible, and they'll be lost if we don't do something.'
Then she became strictly business: 'We'll get you your papers, Moses, but you must work here faithfully, because if you don't, back you'll go to the farm. Is that understood?'
'Yes, Baas.'
'We don't use baas here. I'm ma'am, he's mister.'
His pleasure at the prospect of both a job and the papers to prove it was diminished that night when he sat with Jefferson in the cramped room the Magubanes called home and heard the sound of running feet, then screams, then ugly grunts and more screams.
When he rose to intercede in whatever was happening, his aunt Mpela raised her hand and stopped him. 'It's the tsotsis,' she said, and before she could lower her hand, there came the long terrible scream of a woman, then the echo of runners retreating.
In the morning the police came, tardily, indifferently: 'Another Three Star killing.' They ordered a cart to haul the corpse away, and after they had departed and Moses had inspected the blood, he asked what a Three Star killing was.
'The tsotsis carry knives made in England. Three stars on the handle.'
'How do I avoid them?' Moses asked.
'Play the coward. They run in gangs, and if you see them coming, get out. Do anythinghide, run, stand behind a womanbut get out of their way.'
'Don't the police . . .'
'The police say, "The tsotsis do our work for us." You see, Moses, they kill only Bantu.'
'Does this happen often?'
'All the time,' Jefferson said.
So whenever Moses detected these youthful murderers, pimps, scavengers, thieves, dagga-peddlers and bullies in the area, he quietly disappeared. He was eager to keep himself safe because of the consuming interest he had in the things that Jefferson was doing: the political meetings, the long discussions with knowledgeable men and women. He was enchanted to find that one black woman, a handsome person older than he, had actually been to America and won a college degree; she was Gloria Mbeke, a bold and forceful speaker, and although he was too shy to approach her directly, he did frequent her discussions, listening attentively as she outlined her principles:
'The one thing we can be certain of is that if we endeavor to confront our oppressors with any kind of force, they will not hesitate to mow us down with their machine guns. That realization must be the foundation of our policy.
'When Enoch Mgijima encouraged his Israelites, following their own interpretation of the Bible, to claim land at Bulhoek, the police warned him once to move them off. They warned him twice, then they opened fire on people who carried not even sticks. One hundred and sixty-three dead, one hundred and twenty-nine wounded for life.
'When a remnant of Hottentots in the deserts of South-West Africa a few years ago wanted to continue hunting while the government wanted them to work on farms at almost no pay, what did the government do? They placed a huge tax on dogs, and when the Hottentots refused to pay, they sent in airplanes that bombed them as they ran across the veld. One hundred and fifteen killed, three hundred wounded for life.
'Our policy must be the policy of Mahatma Gandhi, who originated it when he lived among us. Passive resistance, legal pressure, and the constant education of our young people.'
At another meeting he heard Miss Mbeke say something which influenced him deeply. She returned to the slaughter of the Israelites at Bulhoek:
'There are two lessons to be learned from this. The white police will never hesitate to shoot us down if they don't