A Sunrise on the Veld.docx
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A Sunrise on the Veld.docx
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ASunriseontheVeld
"ASunriseontheVeld"byDorisLessing
Everynightthatwinterhesaidaloudintothedarkofthepillow:
Half-pastfour!
Half-pastfour!
tillhisbrainhadgrippedthewordsandheldthemfast.Thenhefellasleepatonce,asifashutterhadfallen;andlaywithhisfaceturnedtotheclocksothathecouldseeitfirstthingwhenhewoke.
Itwashalf-pastfourtotheminute,everymorning.Triumphantlypressingdownthealarm-knoboftheclock,whichthedarkhalfofhismindhadoutwitted,remainingvigilantallnightandcountingthehoursashelayrelaxedinsleep,hehuddleddownforalastwarmmomentundertheclothes,playingwiththeideaoflyingabedforthisonceonly.Butheplayedwithitforthefunofknowingthatitwasaweaknesshecoulddefeatwithouteffort;justashesetthealarmeachnightforthedelightofthemomentwhenhewokeandstretchedhislimbs,feelingthemusclestighten,andthought:
Evenmybrain–eventhat!
Icancontroleverypartofmyself.
Luxuryofwarmrestedbody,withthearmsandlegsandfingerswaitinglikesoldiersforawordofcommand!
Joyofknowingthattheprecioushoursweregiventosleepvoluntarily!
–forhehadoncestayedawakethreenightsrunning,toprovethathecould,andthenworkedallday,refusingeventoadmitthathewastired;andnowsleepseemedtohimaservanttobecommandedandrefused.
Theboystretchedhisframefull-length,touchingthewallathisheadwithhishands,andthebedfootwithhistoes;thenhesprungout,likeafishleapingfromwater.Anditwascold,cold.
Healwaysdressedrapidly,soastotryandconservehisnight-warmthtillthesunrosetwohourslater;butbythetimehehadonhisclotheshishandswerenumbedandhecouldscarcelyholdhisshoes.Thesehecouldnotputonforfearofwakinghisparents,whonevercametoknowhowearlyherose.
Assoonashesteppedoverthelintel,thefleshofhissolescontractedonthechilledearth,andhislegsbegantoachewithcold.Itwasnight:
thestarswereglittering,thetreesstandingblackandstill.Helookedforsignsofday,forthegreyingoftheedgeofastone,oralighteningintheskywherethesunwouldrise,buttherewasnothingyet.Alertasananimalhecreptpastthedangerouswindow,standingpoisedwithhishandonthesillforoneproudlyfastidiousmoment,lookinginatthestuffyblacknessoftheroomwherehisparentslay.
Feelingforthegrass-edgeofthepathwithhistoes,hereachedinsideanotherwindowfurtheralongthewall,wherehisgunhadbeensetinreadinessthenightbefore.Thesteelwasicy,andnumbedfingersslippedalongit,sothathehadtoholditinthecrookofhisarmforsafety.Thenhetiptoedtotheroomwherethedogsslept,andwasfearfulthattheymighthavebeentemptedtogobeforehim;buttheywerewaiting,theirhaunchescrouchedinreluctanceatthecold,butearsandswingingtailsgreetingthegunecstatically.Hiswarningundertonekeptthemsecretandsilenttillthehousewasahundredyardsback:
thentheyboltedoffintothebush,yelpingexcitedly.Theboyimaginedhisparentsturningintheirbedsandmuttering:
Thosedogsagain!
beforetheyweredraggedbackinsleep;andhesmiledscornfully.Healwayslookedbackoverhisshoulderatthehousebeforehepassedawalloftreesthatshutitfromsight.Itlookedsolowandsmall,crouchingthereunderatallandbrilliantsky.Thenheturnedhisbackonit.
Hewouldhavetohurry.Beforethelightgrewstronghemustbemilesaway;andalreadyatintofgreenstoodinthehollowofaleaf,andtheairsmelledofmorningandthestarsweredimming.
Heslungtheshoesoverhisshoulder,veldskoenthatwerecrinkledandhardwiththedewsofahundredmornings.Theywouldbenecessarywhenthegroundbecametoohottobear.Nowhefeltthechilleddustpushupbetweenhistoes,andheletthemusclesofhisfeetspreadandsettleintotheshapesoftheearth;andhethought:
Icouldwalkahundredmilesonfeellikethese!
Icouldwalkallday,andnevertire!
Hewaswalkingswiftlythroughthedarktunneloffoliagethatinday-timewasaroad.Thedogswereinvisiblyrangingthelowertravelwaysofthebush,andheheardthempanting.Sometimeshefeltacoldmuzzleonhislegbeforetheywereoffagain,scoutingforatrailtofollow.Theywerenottrained,butfree-runningcompanionsofthehunt,whooftentiredofthelongstalkbeforethefinalshots,andwentoffontheirownpleasure.Soonhecouldseethem,smallandwild-lookinginawildstrangelight,nowthatthebushstoodtremblingonthevergeofcolour,waitingforthesuntopaintearthandgrassafresh.
Thegrassstoodtohisshoulders;andthetreeswereshoweringafaintsilveryrain.Hewassoaked;hiswholebodywasclenchedinasteadyshiver.
Oncehebenttotheroadthatwasnewlyscoredwithanimaltrails,andregretfullystraightened,remindinghimselfthatthepleasureoftrackingmustwaittillanotherday.
Hebegantorunalongtheedgeofafield,notingjerkilyhowitwasfilmedoverwithfreshspiderweb,sothatthelongreachesofgreatblackclodsseemednettedinglisteninggrey.Hewasusingthesteadylopehehadlearnedbywatchingthenatives,therunthatisadroppingoftheweightofthebodyfromonefoottotthenextinaslowbalancingmovementthatnevertires,norshortensthebreath;andhefeltthebloodpulsingdownhislegsandalonghisarms,andtheexultationandprideofbodymountedinhimtillhewasshuttinghisteethhardagainstaviolentdesiretoshouthistriumph.
Soonhehadleftthecultivatedpartofthefarm.Behindhimthebushwaslowandblack.Infrontwasalongvlei,acresoflongpalegrassthatsentbackahollowinggleamoflighttoasatinysky.Nearhimthickswathesofgrasswerebentwiththeweightofwater,anddiamonddropssparkledoneachfrond.
Thefirstbirdwokeathisfeetandatonceaflockofthemsprangintotheaircallingshrillythatdayhadcome;andsuddenly,behindhim,thebushwokeintosong,andhecouldheartheguineafowlcallingfaraheadofhim.Thatmeanttheywouldnowbesailingdownfromtheirtreesintothickgrass,anditwasforthemhehadcome:
hewastoolate.Buthedidnotmind.Heforgothehadcometoshoot.Hesethislegswide,andbalancedfromfoottofoot,andswunghisgunupanddowninbothhandshorizontally,inakindofimprovisedexercise,andlethisheadsinkbacktillitwaspillowedinhisneckmusclesandwatchedhowabovehimsmallrosycloudsfloatedinalakeofgold.
Suddenlyitallroseinhim:
itwasunbearable,andheleaptupintotheair,shoutingandyellingwild,unrecognisablenoises.Thenhebegantorun,notcarefully,ashehadbefore,butmadly,likeawildthing.Hewascleancrazy,yellingmadwiththejoyoflivingandasuperfluityofyouth.Herusheddownthevleiunderatumultofcrimsonandgold,whileallthebirdsoftheworldsangaroundhim.Heraningreat,leapingstrides,andshoutedasheran,feelinghisbodyriseintothecrisprushingairandfallbacksurelyontosurefeet;andthoughtbriefly,notbelievingthatsuchathingcouldhappentohim,thathecouldbreakhisankleanymoment,inthisthicktangledgrass.Heclearedbusheslikeaduiker,leaptoverrocks;andfinallycametoadeadstopataplacewherethegroundfellabruptlyawaybelowhimtotheriver.Ithadbeenatwo-mile-longdashthroughwaist-highgrowth,andhewasbreathinghoarselyandcouldnolongersing.Buthepoisedonarockandlookeddownatstretchesofwaterthatgleamedthroughstoopingtrees,andthoughtsuddenly,Iamfifteen!
Fifteen!
Thewordscamenewtohim;sothathekeptrepeatingthemwonderingly,withswellingexcitement;andhefelttheyearsofhislifewithhishands,asifhewerecountingmarbles,eachonehardandseparateandcompact,eachoneawonderfulshiningthing.Thatwaswhathewas:
fifteenyearsofthisrichsoil,andthisslow-movingwater,andairthatsmeltlikeachallengewhetheritwaswarmandsultryatnoon,orasbriskascoldwater,likeitwasnow.
Therewasnothinghecouldn'tdo,nothing!
Avisioncametohim,ashestoodthere,likewhenachildhearstheword"eternity"andtriestounderstandit,andtimetakespossessionofthemind.Hefelthislifeaheadofhimasagreatandwonderfulthing,somethingthatwashis;andhesaidaloud,withthebloodrushingtohishead:
allthegreatmenoftheworldhavebeenasIamnow,andthereisnothingIcan'tbecome,nothingIcan'tdo;thereisnocountryintheworldIcannotmakepartofmyself,ifIchoose.Icontaintheworld.IcanmakeofitwhatIwant.IfIchoose,Icanchangeeverythingthatisgoingtohappen:
itdependsonme,andwhatIdecidenow.
Theurgencyandthetruthandthecourageofwhathisvoicewassayingexultedhimsothathebegantosingagain,atthetopofhisvoice,andthesoundwentechoingdowntherivergorge.Hestoppedfortheecho,andsangagain:
stoppedandshouted.Thatwaswhathewas!
–hesang,ifhechose;andtheworldhadtoanswerhim.
Andforminuteshestoodthere,shoutingandsingingandwaitingforthelovelyeddyingsoundoftheecho;sothathisownnewstrongthoughtscamebackandwashingroundhishead,asifsomeonewereansweringhimandencouraginghim;tillthegorgewasfullofsoftvoicesclashingbackandforthfromrocktorockovertheriver.Andthenitseemedasiftherewasanewvoice.Helistened,puzzled,foritwasnothisown.Soonhewasleaningforward,allhisnervesalert,quitestill:
somewhereclosetohimtherewasanoisethatwasnojoyfulbird,nortinkleoffallingwater,norponderousmovementofcattle.
Thereitwasagain.Inthedeepmorninghushthatheldhisfutureandhispa
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