The covenant - James A. Michener [584]
Matthew's laughter so infuriated Krause that he and Krog kicked him unconscious, and when he revived, still naked in the cold room, he heard the first serious charge against him. The officers were singing in cracked and unharmonious voice the freedom song:
'There's a sun in the east
Rising, rising.
There's a moon in the west
Falling, falling.'
The words were familiar, as Matthew came out of his daze, but not the tune, and he looked with pity at the two officers, for they were singing their own dirge and could not find the melody.
'What do you mean, "a sun in the east"?'
'Nothing, Boer.' A smash to the side of the head.
'Don't you mean Mozambique?'
'No, Boer.' Another smash behind the ear.
'Don't you mean the swine who have fled this country into Mozambique?'
'No, Boer.' Another smash.
'I suggest, Magubane, that you mean the terrorists with guns over there.'
'No, Boer.' This time he was jabbed so hard with the electric prod that he danced in the air, arms and legs in all directions. 'Running to Mozambique, are you?'
He was too numb to respond, so they jabbed him for almost two minutes, after which he fainted.
When he revived, too weak to stand erect, they propped him against a wall, and he felt blood oozing from his nose. He was positive that this had not occurred when he was conscious; they must have been kicking him while he lay on the floor, and he moved parts of his body to see if anything had been broken by their heavy boots.
'And what, pray tell, Mr. Magubane, is "falling, falling"?'
'Nothing, Boer.' More punishment.
'Stand up, you cheeky Kaffir bastard. Now you tell us what you mean by "falling, falling." I put it to you, Magubane. You mean that South Africa is falling, don't you?'
There was more punishment, the flailing out of worried men, and Matthew realized that he was being tortured so furiously because he had been overheard singing a song whose words the police could not interpret.
'All right, you cheeky bastard, you sing the song for us.' Krause began in his monotone to chant the words, joined quickly by Krog, whose efforts augmented the dissonance. 'Sing!' Krog screamed, and slowly, with deep powerful tones, Magubane picked up the song, lending it significance and beauty:
'I follow the sun, no matter how bright.
There goes the moon, down out of sight.'
Krog, reading from a typed copy of the song, detected Magubane's change in words and halted the singing.
'You changed the words!'
There are many verses,' Magubane said.
On the seventh day he heard the second serious charge: 'People say you're a black-consciousness activist.'
'I am for black power, yes.' Smash to the jaw.
'You're a Bantu, a stupid goddamned Kaffir Bantu, with no power at all!'
'Yes, Boer, I am an African.' Fist in the mouth.
Afrikaners like Marius van Doorn, the son of Detleef, looked forward to the day when there was one citizenship in South Africa; he felt himself to be a man of Africaan Africanand he did not want that honorable word applied only to blacks. But other Afrikaners were infuriated if any black claimed to be an African, as Magubane was doing, for they sensed a grave danger: the black was seeking outside help from his brothers in powerful black nations like Nigeria.
'Now, Mr. Magubane, I want you to explain what makes you think you're an African.' Prod with the electric tip. 'Dance if you wish, but go on with your explanation.' More prodding.
'I'm a native of Africa, as you are. We're both Africans.' Smash to the face. 'I'm willing to accept you, and you must accept me.'
'You cheeky bastard!' And the fury of the two officers at being linked in a brotherhood stemming from a common terrain was ungovernable.
Next morning Magubane awakened convinced that on this day Officers Krause and Krog intended killing him. He was mistaken. BOSS was never so callous as to plan a murder; all it sought was to intimidate potential troublemakers. Trimming the hedge,' Krause called it. 'When a cheeky Kaffir starts to stick his head up, like a wild branch in a hedge, what's the sensible thing to