'Maria, what exactly are you doing?' asked Filo, the Portuguese
wife of Irish born Ronnie Feeney. Filo stood in the magnificent
oak panelled bedroom of their rural farm, set in the heart
of the Transvaal, just outside Nelsprit in South Africa.
'Nothing, Mrs, just cleaning. Sorry, I go now. Come back
later. Sorry, Mrs Feeney. My mistake. Didn't mean to disturb
anything.' Said the obviously flustered Zulu maid, breaking
into Africaans in her confusion.
'Wait Maria, what was it that you pushed into your pocket?
Come here! Show me!'
'No, not anything, Mrs Feeney. I was just dusting.' Maria
whined like a cornered warthog, swaying from side too side
in obvious distress. Her small, plump figure, wrapped in
a bright buttercup yellow skirt and tangerine flowered blouse,
desperately tried to weave around Mrs Feeney, who stood
firm, blocking the solid oak double doors.
Filo moved quickly, grabbed Maria by the wrist and pulled
at her bulging pocket. Chains, rings and earrings poured
out in a small heap on the floor, to be met by a scream
from Maria.
'I sorry, Mrs Feeney. I didn't mean to do it, but he threatened
my baby and said that he would mark her if I didn't bring
him back enough for him to move on to the Cape. Please,
Mrs Feeney, I need my job. I'm sorry, really sorry.'
'He,' was the twice-jailed partner that Maria had her baby
to. Filo knew all too well that he would carry out any threat
that he made, even on his own innocent child. Every instinct
told her that Maria was the real victim, but she knew that
Ronnie would not tolerate stealing from anyone, especially
the household staff.
Ronnie had immigrated to S Africa over twenty years previously
and had lived through the worst extremes of Eugene Treblanch
and his white supremacist party. He welcomed the transition
to black majority and the sanity of Nelson Mandela, but
he was all too aware how even the most liberal white farmer
could still be seen as the enemy, when accommodation, jobs
and basic necessities were in short supply. Stealing from
'Hall and Son,' the company whose forests covered the Transvaal
and the company that Ronnie had been made director of just
a few years before, would not be tolerated. Ronnie had decided
that this would have to be his philosophy at home as well.
'We will have to let Mr Feeney decide Maria, but you know
that he values loyalty and cannot abide stealing. I think
you had better go home and let me try and talk to Mr Feeney.
We have always been good to you Maria. Did we not help out
with the baby and also hire your brother as our gardener?'
As they were speaking, the large Irish wolf hound and the
burly black Labrador that were the Feeney's family pets,
started into a frenzy of barking. Mr Feeney's truck had
pulled up in front of the house.
'How there Finn, Rex, What are you making such a fuss
about?' At this Ronnie stroked the two over-excited dogs.
Filo appeared at the front door, with a curious look on
her face. It was not normal for Ronnie to be home at this
time of day and she was wondering what was wrong.
It was the middle of the rainy season in this sub Saharan
region and before Ronnie could make it to the veranda, the
sky opened and down flowed a torrent that soaked both dogs
and master. With beard and long hair glued to his head Ronnie
looked like a bedraggled Jesus.
'What is it? Has something happened?' Filo asked her husband,
hoping that the answer would reassure her that they were
safe, for she knew that some of the nearby farms had trouble
from their workers. A clap of thunder seemed to rock the
land as she spoke, causing the dogs to cower under the old
truck.
'There might be, something happening on the lower slopes.
Some of the men have spotted fire over at the Perereze property.'
Said her husband in a nervous manner, for Andy Perereze
had been one of his oldest friends and had started farming
with him all of twenty years before.
From behind the mesh curtain that screened the door to
stop insects taking over the house, Ronnie noticed the tear-stained
face of Maria.
'What has happened here?' he shouted sensing that all was
not as it should be in his own home. But before Filo could
intervene, Maria had blurted out that she did not mean to
steal, but she was concerned for her little girl. 'What,
do you mean to tell me that this is the way you repay us
after everything that we have done for you? You know how
I feel about stealing. You could have come and told us what
was happening, but no. You don't trust us. I have no option.
You can have one week's pay but then you must go. I can't
have people in my home that I can't rely on.'
Maria did not even try to argue, for she knew that Mr Feeney
did not change his mind once it was made up. 'Yes Mr, I
go now. Sorry Mr, really sorry.' At this point, what was
worrying her more was what she would say to Isaac, the man
who shared her bed and who had threatened her that morning.
Slowly and with a heavy heart she picked up her belongings
from the kitchen and headed out into the rain to walk the
four miles back into Nelsprit.
Filo wanted to stop her to try and sort things out with
Ronnie, but she knew that at this moment he was more concerned
about his friend Andy than the fate that awaited Maria when
she returned home.
Ronnie hurried into their bedroom and stripped, towelling
himself as best he could. Filo watched, anxious for her
husband who was going to put himself in danger for the sake
of his friend. She knew that the black power movement had
incited people to violence in certain areas and it didn't
matter if you were innocent or guilty if you were a white
land-owner - they wanted your land.
'Ronnie, be careful,' she pleaded. 'We need you. Liam and
Daniella are too young to be without their father.' Putting
both arms round him, she pulled him to her and held him
in a fierce embrace. 'I love you. Please be careful.'
'I will. I promise. It might be nothing, but I would never
forgive myself if Andy needed me and I did nothing.' Ronnie
kissed his wife gently and then raced out into the raging
storm.
Later that evening Maria lay on the bed of her two-roomed
house with her motionless baby in her arms. Issac had been
drinking from early morning and was in no mood to listen
to her excuses as to why she had not managed to get him
something that he could sell. When he learned that she had
been dismissed from her job, Issac had started smashing
the few sticks of furniture that were to be found, swearing
that he would make sure Mr Feeney would get what was coming
to him.
It had taken him all night to find him, helped by the unsuspecting
workers on the Feeney farm, who believed that he was going
to offer to help the boss prevent any harm coming to Andy
Perereze
He now smiled at a job well done. The white bastard would
never cause problems again. Facing him, hanging from a tree
was the charred body of Ronnie Feeney. It was called 'Necklessing,'
a very effective if brutal way of getting rid of someone.
It also had the added benefit of terrifying anyone else
that you had a grudge against. It involved tying up the
victim and placing a rubber tyre round his neck then setting
it alight. The tyre had burned for some time. It was well
that they had been in a remote part of the forest, so no
one could hear his screams.
