WINTER 1998
Issue No 18
Contents
- A Yawn in Your Ear (Editorial)
- World Service (News)
- Winged Messenger (Letters)
- Barry Winton's Not Quite Overnight Sensations Part 3
- MMEB Photo's 1999
- Who Say's Nothing Ever Happens (A look Back on 1998)
- A Note From Michael Boemer Summer 1998 Manfred Mann - Story Teller - The Two Chickens and Africa One
Manfred Mann Storyteller - The Two Chickens and Africa One
In 1991, I made my yearly visit to South Africa to see my family and friends. The story that follows features four people, my late father Dave, my
stepmother Raye, their African maidservant, Hermina, and me. I arrived in Johannesburg as my Stepmother was in hospital with a serious Thyroid problem. She had been in hospital for 2 weeks, and had been
visited by me father and sister, but had not seen the African maid, Hermina. A few hours after my arrival from London, I drove my father and
Hermina to visit Raye in Edenvale Hospital about three miles from our house in the northern suburbs of Sydenham.
We three approached the bed, which housed my stepmother, myself with the element of fear and trepidation that one often feels in hospitals. Raye
looked very ill to me, pale and weak, but she recognised me, and gave a weak smile, and said how nice it was to see me, I leaned over and kissed
her cheek. Then she saw the African maidservant Hermina, the same Hermina with whom she had been locked into low level combat for many
years. Hermina, who she did not trust. Hermina, who was the cause of all wrong in the universe of kitchen and all domestic things. Hermina, who
was so dishonest in Raye's mind, that when she once returned a coin to me that had just fallen out of my jacket, proved her dishonesty by trying to
appear honest by returning the coin. Hope you the reader can follow this logic? 'Hermy', was the cause of so much unhappiness to Raye, whose
job in life was to 'catch her out'! As I said, Raye saw Hermina, and a surprising and astonishing event took place.
Her face lit up with a terrific smile, she burst into tears, big real tears of joy, she cried out "Hermy, Hermy, I'm so happy to see you". Hermina, the
loyal (God only knows why!), patient woman, whose life was made a misery day after day, in many small minded ridiculous ways, exploded into
an even more dramatic outpouring of joy, once again tears of pleasure and happiness. "Madam, Madam", she cried, "I've been so worried about you, how are you? Oh, its wonderful to see you".
I watched this with surprise, but not total surprise. On the one hand it didn't make sense, but I did also see that these two people locked in combat,
day after interminable day, also laughed together, shared gossip, solved cooking problems, and actually had quite a lot in common. I sometimes
thought that she had more in common with Hermina than with my Father. Had it not been for the fact, that one was white and the other black, and
that they inhabited that 'moral emptiness' that was South Africa at the time, they could almost have been friends. Anyway, these two people, fought each other, were at war, but they also shared bits of laughter and they shared time and history
Raye then spoke again, addressing Father she said in a weak voice. "Dave, Dave, I've been worried about Hermina, how has she been? Dave give her 50 Rand for food." (Note: This small amount is for 1 month).
Here is a slight pause while she recovers her strength, then she says, "Dave, Dave, has Hermy got any food to eat?" Thinking to put this
distressed woman at her ease, I inform her, "It's okay Raye, I bought two chickens today". But this piece of information doesn't soothe her, she
needs clarification and it slowly dawns on me that I've blundered, I've made a big mistake.
She asks, "Who are the two chickens for?" At this point, please remember reader there are three human beings, and two small chickens, you may
naturally be puzzled as to where the problem lies. In a normal world the problem of three people and two small chickens do not fall into the
category of a difficult to solve problem, either ethnically or mathematically. But we are not in a normal world; we are in South Africa in 1991, with
people whose attitudes were shaped during the rally and mid 20th Century. We are about to enter a surreal minefield. The simple idea that three
could eat one chicken on Monday, and the next on Tuesday, simply does not occur. It is just not possible that at this testing time we could share the
same plates or table whilst eating. It's my fault for even making this suggestion, but in my defense it must be remembered that I had only arrived in
Johannesburg from South Africa, and I haven't yet properly adjusted my mental clock back 100 years, as a result, the question catches me by surprise, so I reply, "Oh, I don't know - One for Hermina and one for us".
This is, I suppose a partial solution, and I'm not really up to this task, because I have just entered a new minefield. Whilst I had avoided the dreadful
possibility that some primitive African microbe from Hermina's mouth might leap across a plate and infect my Father and I, with some disease known or unknown.
In order to avoid this perceived threat to our family health, I have fallen into a further trap and crossed an economic and financial line because,
whilst my father and I will share one chicken i.e. half each, Hermina, will have a WHOLE CHICKEN to herself.
There is a long pause, whilst this sick woman thinks and ponders. I'm not sure whether she is thinking or has fallen asleep with the strain of it all.
Has this conundrum been laid to rest? No, of course not, what could I have been thinking. Raye, in fact now solves the problem to her satisfaction,
she remembers even in her weakened state that my Father is to give Hermina 50 Rand for food, and taking into account that it is ME who has bought the two chickens, she solves it all - a masterstroke.
"Dave, Dave", she says weakly, "Give Hermy 40 Rand for food". Manfred Mann
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