Personal Narrative Essay: A Trip To A Grandfather's Land

never knew the exact size of my grandfather’s land. None of us younger grandchildren did; we just knew that it was big. It had its own forest with a sizeable rapid that ran through the edge on one side which dipped into a rather large dam rumoured to have a big snake at the bottom, before tapering off into a stream as it entered the neighbouring farm. We later learnt that there was no snake; it had been a story made up by our parents to discourage us from playing near the dam as neither we nor they could swim. During the rainy season, we planted white mealies. We always planted mealies, but if we were feeling particularly rich, we’d have beans and pumpkins growing alongside. As the vegetables grew, so did the weeds. During that time of the
As a result, we hardly did anything together. My dad, who was a school headmaster and owned a pick up, fetched our water in big drums loaded at the back of his bakkie. We therefore only went to the river when this water ran out, which hardly ever happened. When it did, my aunt, Sis Nonkuselo and our maid, were the ones responsible for fetching more until my dad could go again. I never wanted to miss out on this. No matter what time of the day or night, I was ready for a trip to the river. One day, mama discovered after dark that there was no water left in the house. I grabbed my bucket first and was halfway out the door when she called me back, but I would not listen. To stop me, my dad held both my arms together while I kicked and screamed to be let go, which he eventually did after Sisi Nonkuselo had left with her bucket. I knew where the river was and as soon as I was unpinned; grabbed my bucket again and ran as fast as I could after her; shouting and begging for her to wait for me. She did not. The path to the river was very steep and if you ran fast enough, you felt like you were rolling down the hill. This was fun during the day. But as I discovered that night, far from it after dark. I ran so fast that I literally tripped on my own feet and tumbled a few meters down the hill and broke my arm, which needed to be in a sling for a while. Mama was not amused. “Oh, but my child you are
It was also, as I later learned, a famous meeting spot for new lovers. As much as I did not recognise it as such at the time, I in hindsight can recall how a fellow would walk past, with his eyes fixed only on his object of affection who would smile shyly and pretend not to notice. Everyone seemed to know exactly what that meant and would either congratulate or chastise, depending on the age and family relation to the maiden. I saw it only as a place where people gathered together to have fun. I often longed to be part of the regular water fetching crowd, who all knew each other and had their own unwritten schedule that was unknown to sporadic visitors like me. There was an unwritten code in the village; livestock could only use bigger streams like the one on our farm while the spring in the opposite direction was reserved only for human consumption. Every now and then, however, a stray herd would make its way to the human spring. It was on these days that I envied my neighbours the most, as I could hear them singing, dancing, chatting loudly and playing games by the river banks while waiting for a fresh flow of clear water to dilute the muddy and murky waters left behind by the animals. Whenever I heard the voices, I’d quickly grab my bucket and try to rush out the door, but rarely made it out as mama would appear seemingly out of nowhere. She would never categorically stop me, but would ask me to do