The Terror of Snakes

During the second year that we were in South Africa we finally found and moved to a house in Merrivale, a place not far from Howick, where there were green maize fields all around. Before this we had been living in a hotel.

The dwelling wasn’t just an ordinary house but it was a “Rondavel”. That means it was round with a conical roof. Our house looked like it had a hood, because the roof was painted in red and white segments, like a cake. The building was on the side of that valley where the railway tracks ran and it was the only construction in the area. As that “veld” was still wild and without human inhabitants, you could find a great number of animals in the area like birds, mice, rabbits, lizards and snakes of all species.

When we moved into that house its garden was overgrown with tall grass and bushes. My father who hated snakes was afraid that snakes were hidden in the tall grass and weeds of the garden. So the first thing he did was to buy a lawn-mower and he spent the first week-end cutting the grass. To prove my father right, two brown snakes were cut up by the blades of the mower. This event reinforced his conviction that the area was full of snakes and that we had to pay the utmost attention not only in the garden but indoors as well. That same day he told us he would keep the grass short and the garden in good order so that the snakes would avoid the area. In any case he would move away to another house if he found any other snake-like creature in the garden.

As the house was far from the town and the only means for me of getting to school was to catch the train, I asked my father to buy me a bicycle so that I could get around easier. He refused saying that I was too young and that I didn’t know the road rules. I was so upset and frustrated because I didn’t get my way that I decided there and then to get my own back.

Among my belongings I found my old rubber snake. The same one my father had asked me many times to throw away but it was still there. It was made so well that it looked like a living snake and one had to get up close to it to see that it was a fake. Without thinking of the consequences of what I was doing, I took the “reptile” and put it on my father’s bed. Going out of the room I turned my head and glanced at my brown snake lying on the white blanket. It really looked real!

I went to bed early and waited for what was to happen. As it was getting late, I fell asleep. Suddenly I woke up to the sound of my name yelled in the distance by my father. I didn’t have time to realize what was happening. The next thing I knew the blankets were pulled away and my father was standing above me with his belt in his right hand. Then everything happened very fast. I felt a sting like a swarm of bees on my legs as his hand went down. More blows followed, some made a lot of noise as they hit only fresh air, other blows stung terribly.

Instinctively I scrambled under the bed. That was a lucky move because the belt didn’t reach me anymore. I don’t know how long I lay there with my legs stinging and my head pulsing like my heart-beat. After a long time, when everything was quite and I was sure that my father had gone to sleep, I finally got into bed. The next day, before my father went to work my rubber snake was burned up into a black mess.

In the evening my old man brought home a big black and green rooster with sharp spurs.

He said in a loud voice, pointing at the cock: “This one will kill all the snakes. He’s better than a watch dog!”

I can’t say if it was a coincidence, but from that day onwards there was not a snake to be seen, so my father’s mood changed for the better.