The Smell of Apples: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

from East Africa came to St James for the funeral: the Oberholzers and the Jacksons, and of course Sanna Koerant whose husband had died when Tanzania was still Tanganyika, and the Van der Merwes and the Prinsloos from the Transvaal. And then there was Hennie Labuchagne and his fat wife, and the Roelofses from Somerset West with their children like Philistines, and

    Mark Behr
    Uncle Samuel and Tannie Betta, and the Davenports who came with the Colmans in their smart Cortina station-wagon. Some came all the way from Salisbury and South West and others from right up at Tsaneen in the Eastern Transvaal. As always when East Africans get together, they spoke a bit of Swahili and everyone said 'habar? this and ^mosour? that. The women in hats and black dresses, and the men all in black suits.
    Mum's younger sister, Tannie Karla, was also there. Through the service she held my and Use's hands.
    Afterwards, they all came to our house, to have tea and coffee with cake in the garden. Doreen and Chrisjan served everything and two of Doreen's daughters came to help in the kitchen. Aunt Ina Van der Merwe complained about the frost in the Transvaal and complimented Chrisjan on his lovely Christmas roses and the well-kept lawn. She said that Chrisjan's garden reminded her of her own in Oljorro. While she spoke Chrisjan just stood there, giving her his toothless grin.
    It was a huge funeral, since Oupa and Ouma had been very important and respected members of the East African community. It seemed as though it was Oupa's funeral as well, because after he drowned, and with all the searching that went on, Dad never really gave him a proper funeral.
    While the guests were standing around in the garden, Sanna Koerant had something to say about everyone, as usual. When she said something in the line of them all now being as south as south of Kilimanjaro would ever be, I saw the little muscle in Dad's cheek jump as it does when he gets angry.
    When they read Ouma's will, Use and I inherited some money which was put into a fixed deposit for us for one day when we go to university. I also inherited Ouma's old camphor-chest and when I moved into the new room,

    The Smell of Apples
    Chrisjan carried it upstairs. I also got Oupa and Ouma's clothes closet with its full-length mirror in the oakwood door. Up against the wall above my bed, we hooked the head of the Koedoe bull Oupa shot on the Serengeti. Its long curved horns almost touch the ceiling. Ouma always said that Oupa would have wanted me to have the Koedoe trophy, because I had never been given the chance to go hunting on the Serengeti with him.
    With all these things in my bedroom, and because it's all mine, my room is the best place in the whole house. When the roof-window is open, I can fall asleep at night with the sound of waves and the smell of salt water and sea bamboo coming in from the other side of the railway line. In the afternoons when I sit at my desk in front of the window, I can look out across the whole bay. And I'm lucky because the creaking of the stairs always gives Mum away when she sneaks up to check if I'm really doing my homework.
    Sometimes the whales come into the bay. In spring and summer I can sit and watch them for hours. I've seen them jump up into the air and then strike the water again, making the most terrible thunder and spray. Use says they do that when they're mating. But there aren't as many whales now as Jan Bandjies says were here years ago. One year we didn't even see a single one, and then Jan said it was because the bay doesn't belong to nature any more. He says the bay has been taken over by the factories.
    But I love my room, even when there aren't whales. Mum says we should just do something about reinforcing the floorboards which aren't as strong as they should be, especially with me getting bigger and with the extra bed up here for when Frikkie spends weekends. Once, when two of the knots fell right out of the pine beams, Mum told Dad they would have