A Sunrise on the Veld.docx

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