If Jossie Pietersen were named ‘Tossy” it would have been much closer to the truth because he loved nothing more than tossing brandy down his throat.
He arrived in our town when he was already in his early thirties. By that time Min Steyn herself was already twenty eight with three children of her own.. Each from different and unknown fathers. Min was a lusty lass and from the moment Jossie sat foot in our town she pursued him. Within six months from the moment that they first met, they were married. By that time the fourth child, a combined product of Jossie and Min, was already well on its way.
Min named the little girl, Celine, after the famous singer, because her mother had given her the name of a South African singer too and she always felt that she was something special. Soon they had four children together, plus Min’s three.. Not one of which had any special gift. When they became sixteen, they left school and started in mostly menial jobs. That was not so bad as they kept living with their parents and the money that they earned could be used to augment the meagre income that Jossie acquired in his job as a handyman.
There were many ructions and fighting in the dilapidating little house on the clayey smallholding that Min had inherited from her dirt poor parents. There was no way in which Jossie and Min could better their lives in that hopeless circumstances. The few animals that they tried to keep did not last long. All that they could manage were a few hens and half a dozen ducks. The ducks were the most successful because they could always find something to eat in the little dam that somebody had created in the brook at the lower end of the plot. The hens were free ranging, if you can stretch the meaning of that term a bit, so that they could always scratch something out somewhere.
In that manner they struggled on, sometimes a little less, but normally it was a battle to survive. Most of them were not permanently employed and were doing odd jobs here and there.
The last but one of the children was also a boy, which they named Jossie, after his father. The last one was a girl, whom they named Diana after the beautiful princess in England, but when she grew up it soon became clear that she would never be pretty.
It was Little Jossie that was different from all the others. He was the outsider and we all thought that he must have had an awful time adjusting to the rest. He became the scapegoat for nearly everything that would go wrong. The saddest thing about him was that, although he was really different, he was also not gifted in any way so that he could be sure of at least being able to escape those dreary circumstances once he had grown up.
Nonetheless he never did any of the things which his family became notorious for. As far as we know, he never committed shoplifting or any other of the petty crimes for which the others were constantly in front of the magistrate.
It was a real shock when he, in the middle of his seventh grade at school, committed suicide by hanging himself from a tree on the outskirts of the town. That he had planned it carefully became clear from the fact that he made sure that it would be fatal by climbing into the tree before tying the rope to a strong branch far above the ground. Thereafter he jumped down, killing himself instantly.
At the funeral there were, except for the minister and the undertaker, at least his class mates from school and a few of those habitual funeral goers whom you get in small places. In the church everything went well, the Pesky Pietersens as they were known by then, were quiet and respectful although it seemed to us as if they were much too unperturbed about the loss of a son and brother.
It was at the graveside where we were to witness an extraordinary thing. When the undertaker finally wanted to lower the gleaming coffin into the gaping hole, Min, rather loudly, asked him to wait a little. Celine, who at last had a permanent job, whipped out a camera, one which she referred to as the instant, and started acting as if she were a professional photographer.
Everywhere eyes in astonished faces widened. None of us had ever witnessed this sort of behaviour. Not at a funeral. Now Celine, in a businesslike, even militaristic manner, started ordering the family around so as to get them posing for several photos next to the coffin.
Once Min chipped in too, “Celly, make sure that you get the wreaths in also!’ for there were a few forlornly draped over the coffin.
After what had seemed an excruciating long time to us, Celine finally had the camera before one eye. Just before she was to press the shutter, she smiled broadly and said, “OK now, all of you, say cheese!”
(861 Words)
|
Print this short story
Show the next latest work
