Happy Days On The Farm

Let me regress to my preschool days on the farm.

            My grandpa was 78 years old when I was born, so the stories I tell about him were at about that time or a bit later.   He was never idle and helped where he could.   He was an early riser and after having a cup of coffee each morning he would take his hoe and go to the fruit orchard to chop out the weeds.   He was also a very impatient man and when he decided to come to the house, he expected my mom to have his breakfast ready.   He did not make life easy for her.   (I am told that I am very much like he was; I cannot answer for that so you will have to ask Yvonne.)   He went to the cattle kraal one morning to do the milking and everything went well until he had to deal with a cow who did not like to be milked.   He put a riem around her horns and tied her to a fence post.   On hearing that there was a problem in the kraal, my dad went to take a peek.

    Grandpa had tied the cow’s hind legs with a “spantou”, but every time he sat down to milk her, the cow would buck and knock him over.   After spilling the milk, he took a thin wooden post and knocked her lights-out with one shot.   He then attempted to milk her lying on the ground, saying to the beast, “If I can’t milk you standing up, I’ll milk you lying down!”   When the cow arose from her stupor, she was as tame as a lamb and never gave any problems again.  I think that he must have had a very soft spot for that cow after that!

            Most men of that time smoked a pipe and kept a little bag of tobacco on his person.  It was called a tobacco pouch and I can still see him filling his pipe before lighting up.   One day I was with my grandpa at the sheep kraal when I noticed that the old ram had something hanging between his hind legs, so I asked Grandpa, “What is that hanging under the old ram?”   And he replied that it was the ram’s tobacco pouch.   “Grandpa, but the ram doesn’t smoke does he?”   He said, “All men smoke and one day when you are big you will also have a tobacco pouch!”   I have often thought about his reply and I just have to smile about it.   The wisdom of the aged!!

           Grandpa came into the kitchen one day to find Daf with her hands behind her back and some sticky jam on her face.   “What have you got there my girly?”   “Go away Grandpa,” she replied, so he decided to have a look and found her with an open jam bottle in her little hands.   She had been putting her hand in the bottle and licking the jam off.   He took the kitchen cloth and wiped her hands and face, fetched a spoon and gave her the open bottle and stood by smiling until she’d had enough.   He then wiped the bottle clean, put the lid on and put it away

            One day while my dad was riding his horse in the veld, the animal stepped into a hole in the grass and sent me dad sprawling.   He realised that there was something seriously wrong when he could not get up or even sit up without excruciating pain.   He then found that he had dislocated his hip as his leg was lying at a peculiar angle.   He needed help, but how?   Fortunately a servant had seen him fall and struggle to sit and immediately called for help.   Petrus and his brother Abel came running, but it was only when grandpa got there that something took place.   He told Daddy that he would put the hip joint back in place but that it would be very painful.   He told Petrus and his brother to hold my dad down and he took the leg just above the ankle and whilst pulling it, he twisted it and the ball slipped back into place.   And that, for a man in his eighties!!   My dad could not do much for a long time and that very leg used to give him a lot of trouble in his old age.

            When I was about five years old we went to Bothaville one day, and a tricycle was bought for me, but I do not know whether it was my grandpa or my dad who bought it.   I was most upset when I discovered that I could not get the thing to move, and the harder I tried and failed, the more I cried.  It was my grandpa who went into the shop and got a piece of rope, tied it to my tricycle and pulled me down the street.   He seemed to have so much patience with a child.   That Tricycle became my horse which I rode all over amongst the trees, down to the windmill and dam and back again in all the cattle “voetpaadjies.”  Unfortunately I was too young to appreciate my grandpa, and his time on earth was getting shorter.   I hope that one day when I cross over he will be there waiting for me.