Afrika Read Online Free PDF Page B

did you get to be such a world expert on squirrels?” Kim asked. She was used to boys being shorter than she was. Not Themba – he was tall.
    “I read all about them,” he said.
    An old bearded man on a bench waved. He was dressed in a worn sports jacket and trousers, but he had no shoelaces in his boots. He held his hat in his hands. “Excuse me, does you have two rands for a cup of coffee?”
    “Sorry my chappie,” Themba answered as he fished out a coin and gave it to him.“I have only one coin.”
    Ntombi clicked her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “No man, Themba,” she scowled as they walked away. “That
bergie
might have a knife.”
    In silence they continued down a tree-lined lane. “Speaking of criminals,” Themba said, “I want to show Kim something.” He led them toward a large old-fashioned building in the center of the gardens. “The museum is free on Wednesdays.”
    “Sies
, Themba,” Ntombi said, pulling a face as they mounted the stairs in front of the entrance. “I don't want to see stuffed animals.”
    “You don't have to come in,” Themba replied. “Meet you in the museum shop. Check out the eau de cologne,” he teased her.“For you, madam, twenty rands.”
    Ntombi smiled at him and waved them off.
    “I want you to see this,” Themba said, as he led Kim into a large room with cases of stuffed animals. His jovial mood was gone. “I want you to see all the things the white settlers put in here,” he added. “Cheetahs. Hyenas. Wildebeest.” He stared back at her. “Aren't you going to ask me what tribe I come from?”
    They were standing in front of a display of beaded headdresses and ornaments. He was testing her, she could tell, but she didn't want him to know she couldn't answer his question. “Tell me then,” Kim said, meeting his eyes, “since you're dying to.”
    “I'm Xhosa,” Themba said. He made a clicking noise at the beginning of the word: “X!o-sa,” he repeated.
    Kim tried to imitate the click with no success.
    “Jab your tongue behind your teeth and try.”
    She did as he said. The sound still came out like a hard
C
and not a click.
    Themba shook his head. Now he was smiling, at least. She thought it was a genuine smile, but she was wary too. This friendship wasn't going to be easy. For one thing, she resented the notion that Themba was supposed to watch out for her.
    “Look. This is what I wanted you to see,” he said.
    He led Kim across the room. Kim started. A thin, almost naked person – shorter than Kim – stood behind a large glass case. His almond-shaped eyes looked right at her.
    “He's a Bushman,” Themba said facing the glass. “A San.”
    Kim swallowed, trying to recover her wits. For a moment no one spoke. The Bushman's skin was yellow and wrinkled and it looked very real.
    “Do they live near Cape Town?” Kim asked.
    “They're almost all dead now.”
    Kim took a step back and realized that the room was filled with large glass display cases. Inside each case, in front of a desert-like background, San men and women were depicted hunting and cooking and going about their daily lives. It was Themba who broke the silence. “At least the Boerdidn't catch us, stuff us in a glass case, and put us in a museum devoted to animals. Your mom's a Boer, isn't she?”
    Kim wheeled around: “Afrikaner, you mean.”
    “We call them Boer,” Themba said with steely determination. His eyes narrowed as he added: “We lived on this continent for centuries before the Boers and the English came with their armies and laws, making us the
kaffirs
and them the white bosses.”
    “What's a kaffir?” she asked.
    Themba shot her a look. “Once it was the word for ‘heathen.’ Now it's a swearword.”
    Kim looked down at an ostrich egg used by the San as a container for water. She could not think of a single thing to combat Themba's anger. And he was still talking,“You look nothing like your mother,” he said, taking the conversation in a