FERRUM
I wanted to write about the first discovery of an iron horseshoe in the grave of Frankish leader Childeric I, Roman Gaul (458 to 482 CE). How the art of balance developed from a simple occupation of blacksmiths in 920 CE, to a specialized craft among Western European 'ferrour des chivaux' circa 1350. Surely someone would want to know.
But what I remember is racing across the fields of eragrostis on your blue scrambler, black masking tape sticking to my fingers. The way you would throw a rugby ball across the lawn. Your friend 'China'. How you would beat Rocky every time he'd kill my father's sheep. His face stoic, ears clipped, soundless. The dog.
I played soccer with the two turkeys that disappeared after kicking you in 'die huis'. Picked a lock inside your house to play computer games on a monochrome screen. Were the carpets really blue? I cannot tell you everything anymore. Do you remember the time I tried to stifle a cough, and everyone thought I had given my life to Jesus? It must have been a Wednesday.
I wanted to write about the first discovery of an iron horseshoe in the grave of Frankish leader Childeric I, Roman Gaul (458 to 482 CE). How the art of balance developed from a simple occupation of blacksmiths in 920 CE, to a specialized craft among Western European 'ferrour des chivaux' circa 1350. Surely someone would want to know.
But what I remember is racing across the fields of eragrostis on your blue scrambler, black masking tape sticking to my fingers. The way you would throw a rugby ball across the lawn. Your friend 'China'. How you would beat Rocky every time he'd kill my father's sheep. His face stoic, ears clipped, soundless. The dog.
I played soccer with the two turkeys that disappeared after kicking you in 'die huis'. Picked a lock inside your house to play computer games on a monochrome screen. Were the carpets really blue? I cannot tell you everything anymore. Do you remember the time I tried to stifle a cough, and everyone thought I had given my life to Jesus? It must have been a Wednesday.
I don't remember losing touch. Just the lack of photos. You stopping for a brief chat while navigating the Mooiplaats 'sinkplaat'. Finding Rensia in the living room she had converted into a study. Did we talk? I used to mimic the way she walked you know. The adopted cadence of a loved sibling. I never saw her again. Only as a headline on ‘plaasmoorde’.
You called me champion. And taught me the importance of the frog.
I have nothing to teach you. Nor do I know what to call you anymore. Maybe ‘Ferrum’. In Afrikaans, it would be 'Yster'.
You called me champion. And taught me the importance of the frog.
I have nothing to teach you. Nor do I know what to call you anymore. Maybe ‘Ferrum’. In Afrikaans, it would be 'Yster'.