A Piece of Jasper

By Felicty Keats Morrison

Sally's life is thrown upside down when her father remarries. Her father books a holiday in a guest farm on the Lesotho border. Sally is very unhappy and walks into the mountains where San people once lived. While walking she finds a piece of Jasper and picks it up. It is an ancient San artefact which connects her with a San medicine woman who helps her to adapt in order to be happy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Felicty Keats Morrison
• Release date: May 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476388113

Book preview

A Piece Of Jasper

Written by: Felicity Keats

Copyright 1998 Felicity Keats

Cover Illustrations copyright by: Henda Olivier 1998

Smashwords Edition

and UmSinsi Press

PO Box 28129

MALVERN

4055

A PIECE OF JASPER

By

Felicity Keats

Dedication:

I dedicate this book to my children and our holidays at Wyndford over many years -and to my grandchildren.

FOREWORD

Many years ago the spirits of the hills on Wyndford farm in the Caledonpoort area on the Lesotho border of the Orange Free State, called me. They enticed me and tantalized me with the idea that men, women and children had lived, loved and died in these hills and valleys around the Caledon River.

There were signs of their lives in the stone age implements -they lay on the hillside and were tucked into the mud flats and shallow parts of the river. It was fun to find them in the freezing winter water, though the sun was hot.

These were golden days. We spent many pleasant holidays at Wyndford guest farm, going back there year after year, with the spirit of the hills calling louder and louder. Write a book about the San, they said.

I studied archaeology and anthropology and spent long hours researching in the Don Afrikaner Library in Durban to get some small truth of the lives of the San. It has taken me thirty years and half a dozen rewrites since the idea to write this book first took hold of me. I know this now is the best I can do, and trust that this book pleases the spirits of those hills who begged me to speak of what they had told me.

Felicity Keats

April 1998

CHAPTER ONE

Although it was winter and the earth was dry and dusty, a small natural spring on top of a long low mountain collected itself into a muddy pool, then dripped through the rocks into Bat cave below.

Bat cave was an eerie place. Part of it, leading from the high domed area that faced towards the daylight, sheered upwards with small rock ledges providing footholds and a way up to the cliffs above. Another part of it cleft inwards through the stone hillside where on its unlit sides on a summer day, countless bats hung dark and still but flew around, sinister shapes with strange cries, in the night. Bat cave drew people. They could not say why -whether it was the bats or the massive rock cave with the damp mossy roof and the atmosphere suggestive of mysterious impending events and tragedies too great for words or the narrow chimney of rocks rising upwards to the pinprick of light above and the low tunnels of rock that led into the cliff-side.

Although Sally Fay Summers had never been in this part of the country before, at Wyndford Guest Farm she was enjoying the idea of going for a long walk on her own to explore.

A few weeks earlier, she had been shocked when her father had cleared his throat and confided in her.

You know how I loved your mother and you know how much I have missed her. It's two years since she died, and I'm finding it very hard on my own. You need 7 a mother and I need a wife. You've met my Johannesburg partner, Mary McCann.

Horrified, Sally Fay had nodded her head mutely. What was her father about to tell her? Her mind flew to the weekend, a month or so before, when her father had brought Mary home to visit. She remembered, then, that she'd felt her comfortable way of life was, in some way, being threatened. Her father had been attentive to Mary whilst Sally Fay had felt very much in awe of her. She was extremely elegant, with short-cropped dark hair and big blue eyes and a cool distant manner.

She had felt alone and miserable as her father continued.

I suppose I should have mentioned it to you first, but it all happened rather suddenly. I've asked her to marry me.

Sally Fay controlled a desire to yell and shout. What was happening to her life? She could not image calling this new woman 'mother'.

Her father, with his eyes on her face, had carried on. She's got a son, Harvey, who's a few months older than you. So you'll have a brother which will be a new experience for you. He said that in a tone of voice meant to lift Sally Fay's gloom.

But Sally Fay had frozen at this added piece of dreadful news. Thoughts had bombarded her. A new brother in addition to a new mother? She'd thought of the closeness that had developed between her and her dad when they'd gone on trips together to the beach and the mountains. She knew things were never going to be the same again. She drew back from him.

Her father had been watching her closely and had taken her hand. It's going to be all right, he'd said. I know how you felt about your mother. To make it easier for you, Mary and I will get married very quietly. We'll go to a magistrate's office. He'd tumbled her straw-blonde hair affectionately -a special gesture of his that she usually enjoyed. That night, however, she had moved her head away slightly.

She'd noticed the concerned look in his eyes as he'd continued. We've talked it over, and we've decided that it will be best for us all to go to a guest farm in the mountains. I know of one in a very special place in the Orange Free State, in the Caledonpoort, bordering on Lesotho. There are San paintings on the farm. Your mother loved the San and I know you've always been interested in them too.

He'd paused, and Sally Fay, still aware of his eyes on her and determined not to show him her grief, had nodded her head again. Her mother had fascinated her with tales of the San and, under normal circumstances, such a holiday would have delighted her.

Still numbed, she'd listened as her father continued. We'll be there for a few days before the schools' winter holidays begin so it won't be too busy. Harvey will join us -he'll be getting a lift down from Johannesburg. And it's going to be great.

He had smiled at her encouragingly. I understand Harvey is good at sport and extremely clever too. Genius IQ actually. He'll be in your class at St. Germaine's.

Sally Fay had bitten her lip in distress. She'd thought of her own very average marks and wondered what it would be like having a clever stepbrother in her class. She'd seen her father's concerned look but had remained stiff and unresponsive.

He had patted her hand. I'm proud of you, Sally, he had said. Proud that you're my daughter.

She, her father and Mary had arrived last night at Wyndford, where it was freezing cold. She'd settled into Crystal Palace, her rondavel with bathroom attached, which would be her home for the next couple of days. She'd read the house rules behind the door, and had also listened keenly when the owner explained the enormous size of the farm, which included mountains and countryside, with the Caledon River as its boundary on one side, and the Little Caledon River on the other side.

Now, she peered out of her window to see frost on the lawn in the pale first light of early morning. Eager to explore, she dressed, putting on gloves and her warm anorak, and slipping a tiny torch into her jeans’ pocket.

Outside, in the chill air which whitened with her breath, she walked past the vine-covered stone farm building which housed the dining room, lounge and tuck shop. No one was about as she peered into the cosy dining room with the black-beamed ceiling and tables set for breakfast.

Past the guest house, she paused at the fence to gaze from the farm's high hilltop site across to the distant misty peaked mountains of the Malutis in Lesotho, so very far away. The countryside looked lonely and desolate, which was how she was feeling.

Directly below her was the border post at Caledonpoort. Here, the tarred road from South Africa wound between the tall cliffs of the poort, then crossed the bridge over the Caledon River into Lesotho, after it had passed through the customs controls of the two countries at either end of the bridge.

Peering down now, Sally Fay could just see the blue,