The newsreader spoke as he climbed on top of his box. 'Come near. Come here, come near, good people of the Colony. I have news for all to hear.'
The Colonist that usually hanged around the little cobbled area in the public square waiting for his arrival moved closer to fill the few spaces below the box while those on the fringes picked up pace, anxious not to miss the late-afternoon broadcast. When the tall man with the oversized glasses, extended beard, cloak, breeches and upturned boots was satisfied that there were enough people around him, he began speaking in a slow, dramatic manner.
He cut a niche for himself as the newsreader of the Colony's state of affairs. His audience tolerated his mannerisms which vacillated from quirky, intriguing and hilarious to deep, sarcastic and sad. They have come to accept, love, hate, tolerate and even accept his unique rendition of the daily news. The words rolled off his tongue, while his hands and facial expressions, synchronised with every sentence, phrase and change in tone complemented compelled his audience to turn up twice a day, rain or shine.
'It is with great excitement that I bring you the latest happenings in the Colony, today.'
Some in the audience exhibited visible annoyance with his long-winded and drawn-out expressions.
'We do not have all night!' They shouted.
Unperturbed he dispatched the weather prediction for the night ahead, elicited laughter about the latest shenanigans of the sailors at the public taps and the slave lodge and, pretending to gossip, his act became dramatic, as if he was about to take them into his confidence and tell them a secret.
'Our German born Commander, Zaccharias Wagenaer, enjoys the finer things in life. He has seen the world, a wandering spirit with restless legs, lover of maps, publisher and served as a common soldier for the West Indian Company in Brazil.' Applause. 'You love him already? Be careful of the devil you do not know.' Laughter and murmuring. 'Commander restless legs grew tired of traveling and signed on with the VOC and went to Batavia where he worked as?' He cupped his ears waiting for them to guess. Not getting the answer he was hoping for, he folded his arms across his chest. He ducked at a grape heading for him.
'Wrong. All of you. A map designer. But our Commander does not only know about maps. He is a man of vision who married at 34 to an older, experienced, influential widow with coin.' He threw his hand in the air and raised his eyebrows, so long that it was curled outwards, like his beard. Laughter ensued. 'I agree. Some of us have such good luck with the ladies. Unlike our freemen.' He moved his body to avoid a flying object headed for him. 'Our late bloomer became junior merchant in Japan and now he is here with us, he is our esteemed Commander to be, and leader of our Colony.
'Hear, hear.' He waited for the clapping to stop.
'Hear those who have ears. Our next Commander is lurking in the wings and will rain on us his great knowledge, his great enthusiasm, his great passion for the art of ceramics and design.' He formed a fan with his hand above his lips, dispatching a secret in a mocking manner. 'Reliable forces informed me he is a man of many talents. A man accustomed to wealth and luxury of the East Indies. Good food. Good living. Will he be devastated if he discovered we had little food? How will he rain his knowledge, passion and great enthusiasm for maps and ceramics on the storms and naked natives when they burn down his farms, steal his cattle, and uproot his crops I ask with tears in my eyes.'
'What is he going to do about it?' Someone shouted.
'Exactly what you must ask him, good people of the Colony. Are you going to calm the seas and draw a map and hand of where you will hang all those stinking, lazy, daccha-smoking Hottentoos?' Clapping.
'When is he coming!'
'Soon. As soon as our tried and not trusted Jan and his beautiful Maria can get themselves to leave the comfort of the fort he,' said with a smile. 'A bird whispered something in these two hairy ears.' He pointed to his ears, drawing the attention to the clump of hair that protruded from both his ears. 'These two hairy tentacles heard he is going to make sure the buildings have windows. He is going to open a pottery. He is going make sure no settler eats with his hands. Ever again. Our new Commander is going to make sure this Colony,' he said and beat his breast,' That is me.' Then he pointed to them. him, 'And you, get a taste for the finer things in life.'
His summary of their Commander was received with mixed reactions. 'Wrong man,' a voice echoed.
'Watch this space, fine people of the Colony.'
'Tell him we are fine. What is he going to do about Doman and Herrie?'
'Hold that tongue of yours for, fine people of the Colony, this evening my tongue is the bearer of glad tidings about Doman. The illiterate. The traitor. The chief designer of mischief and cowardly acts towards this Colony. The thorn in the side of our outgoing Commander, the Council, the freeman along the Liesbeeck, and all you fine people for years.' Satisfied that he had whipped up a stir, he calmed them down. 'I am pleased to announce that his hour of truth has descended upon him for all his wicked ways. The scoundrel died in a Hottentoo hut outside the Fort.'
Their applause was followed by various interjections. 'Good riddance.'
'I agree. We all agree. Good riddance. The other death is none other than the sly, the troublesome jackal of a strandloper, Herrie.'
More applause. 'Now our little shepherd boy, our David Jansz can rest in peace. His murderous, heathen soul must burn in the never ending I ferno of hell. Who will regret the death of those Hottentoos?' He put his hand on his ear and waited on their response.
'No one,' they shouted in one voice.
'That is right. No one.' More clapping. 'They were, without any doubt, harmful and malicious evildoers towards the Company, this Colony and every god-fearing settler.' He looked at the rest of the news as the clapping subsided. 'You will further be delighted to learn that the school, which had been temporarily closed, will be re-opened. The children of us burgers will be taught for a small fee, whilst Hottentoo and slave children will be instructed, free of charge. Thanks to the one and only light in their life of darkness, the VOC, the life-giving blood of this new Colony here at the foot of Africa, the one, the only, the Company, will provide them with a proper and decent education, and instruct them in the Bible. And...' He remained quiet and put his two fingers over his lips pretending to whisper. 'That is not all,' he said and shook his head. 'Oh no, my dear people of the Colony.' His voice picked up in volume. 'For there is hope for the spawn of the immoral that had sprung forth from the legs of the dark heathens and now thrive like weed among us. We are their hope and their salvation, the offspring of the savage natives that summon and fashion the powers of their foreign gods and black magic against us. Our very own man of the cloth, Dominee van Arckel, received instruction from Amsterdam that the shoots of these heathen parents could be baptised if they are brought up in the virtuous ways of Godfearing Christians. We will drive out their evil. Our baptism will save the soul of the many bastards, the mix-race seeds of concubinage and slave women who crave after the pleasures of the flesh, the vile and ungodly races who read the bones, the hair and teeth of the beast of the jungle. Our school will teach them to pray. For we are the caretakers of their salvation. We shall teach them the ways of the decent. From us they will learn the ways of the upright. We will impose on them the ways of the god-fearing Christian. That, people of the Colony, is our task. That is how we bring honour to God.' A sea of protest erupted as he greeted, bent low and curtsied.
'No baptism to the heathen. No baptism to the heathen,' they shouted and hurled random objects at him as he hurried off his box and gathered his belongings as they dispersed.
***
Krotoa had been hanging around the fringe of the crowd listening to the report of the latest happenings in the Colony. She sauntered to the Coornhoop and searched for Susanna among the slaves. She found her at the furthest end of the dilapidated shed, lying on straw under a thin blanket.
'Susanna?'
'What brings you here this time of the night?' Susanna steadied herself on her elbows and tried to find Krotoa's face in the limited light of the single lantern that hung at the entrance of the shed.
'Nommoa died.'
Susanna laid down her head on the straw and pulled the company-issued blanket over her head. Krotoa got up and left.