SCHRIKRIGHIED
An early start was made the next day to proceed on their trip, as the
plan was not to stay at any one place more than two days so as to
enable them to see as many places and people as possible.
Early in the afternoon they arrived at the camping place of a party of
transport riders, who were spending a month in the bush veld to recruit
their worn-out draught oxen. They were a rough-and-ready lot, but a
merry and entertaining party withal.
They were very hospitable and kind, taking the young holiday-makers to
the best coverts for birds and game. But what amused Steve most of all
was that one of the party was one who _schriked_.
Before proceeding, I must explain what is meant by this word.
The dictionary translates _schrik_ to mean fright, dread, terror,
horror. But this hardly explains what is meant by the term here.
Here it is meant to represent a combination of ticklishness and
_schrikishness_, if I may be allowed to use the words in such a manner.
In South Africa, one often meets with persons who are thus affected
in various stages. Some need to be touched under the arms, when they
will shout out as loud as you like, and jump as high as you please.
Some will be affected in the same way by being shown certain animals
or insects, composing their particular dread, such as a spider, a frog
or mouse. To others you need but to suddenly mention their particular
objects of dread to make them act as if they were mad.
To others, again, the worst of all--after having once startled them and
put them on the _qui vive_, you may stand at any safe distance, and
in a sudden, sharp, commanding tone, order them to do or say what you
please, and they simply cannot resist doing as you say.
This disease, as one may call it, is generally acquired by being over
tickled in your youth, or receiving a bad fright, as the reader may
gather from the recitals of the victims themselves further on. To some
people it is a serious burden to be thus affected, as the amusement
caused by their doing all sorts of ludicrous things at the will of
everyone, tempts everybody to make them _schrik_, and the continual
shock to the system causes them to tremble all over, and to feel an
excess of nervousness not at all conducive to good health. The writer
has known a strong healthy young man thus affected, to faint on being
tickled under the arms while being held down.
Steve delighted in these comical persons, who _would_ be so stupid as
to do what you tell them, or say out loud what you whispered to them,
simply out of _schrik_. But he always took care not to make an abuse of
the amusement; for as soon as he saw his victim getting too excited, he
would soothe him and spare him further for the time being.
The victim in this particular instance was named _Piet_. They were
sitting having their dinner. Each was holding his mug of coffee in one
hand; the kettle was empty; no more coffee to be had unless the kettle
was first boiled. One of the transport riders looks round and winks,
and says suddenly,--
‘Piet, throw that mug away.’ Away goes the mug, coffee and all.
Steve sees how the land lies, and joins in the laugh, seeing some fun
ahead.
After Piet’s cup had been replenished by getting a portion from each of
the other cups, he thought, ‘Now I shall be able to finish my meal,’
when he received the command, ‘Jump up, Piet.’ He jumped up as ordered,
dropping both cup and food this time. He stood looking comically and
disgustedly at his nice venison steak lying in the ashes, while the
others were splitting their sides with laughing. Steve, of course,
laughed as much as anyone else, and more so--it _was_ so foolish to
throw your food away like that.
After once more sharing food and drink with the others, he was allowed
to finish his meal. After dinner, some Kaffir women came to the camp
to sell _stamp mealies_ (shelled maize). Some were bought and Piet was
requested to pay. He took out his purse, opened it, and took out a
shilling to pay the girl, when
‘Give her the purse,’ came the order.
‘_De, de_’ (here, here), cried poor Piet, forcing the purse full of
silver into the hands of the astonished black lady.
He was allowed to take back his purse, put it in his pocket, when once
more came the order,--
‘Shake hands with her.’ He seized the black girl’s hand and shook it
heartily, only to drop it in disgust, and call for soap, muttering
something about, ‘This is too much, shaking hands with the dirty,
greasy thing; soap will hardly wash the stinking grease off my hand
again.’ The others were lying on their backs shaking with laughter,
and holding their sides. The black woman had never been so astonished.
Never had a white man offered to shake hands with her before.
‘Take off your hat to the lady,’ once more heard Piet. He took off his
hat and made a profound bow to the staring sable woman. The next moment
he took off his hat again and tramped upon it, as if the hat was to be
blamed for being lifted in greeting to a nigger.
He was allowed to take a breath now, as the others felt it would be
fatal for them to laugh any more. Steve felt as if his cheeks would
never take their normal position again; they had been stretched out of
position so much from laughing.
Presently the oxen came in to be kraaled for the night. _Speelman_--an
old Hottentot--the herder, came up to the fire to be rationed.
Steve and his party had not seen Speelman before, as he had been in
the veld all day herding the cattle. He was a short, pot-bellied
old sinner, with a round bullet head, and a face, all wrinkles,
which seemed as if made of elastic when he drew it into his broad,
hypocritical smile, as he came towards Baas Piet and asked for some
_baccy_.
Piet took out his _span_ of tobacco, cut off a few inches, and handed
it to Speelman, when one of his friends named Daniel shouted _slang_
(snake).
Speelman bounded into the air, and made Piet _schrik_ too as he came
down again, and catching hold of Piet round the body, hung there,
kicking and howling. ‘Help, baas, help, _slang, slang_.’ And as he hung
and kicked, Piet struggled and shouted, the one seemed as excited and
frightened as the other.
The scene was too much for mortal man to stand. Steve fell on the
ground, and rolled about on the grass as he laughed. He had to close
his eyes. He felt, if he looked longer on the ludicrous scene, he would
break something; his sides had already been abnormally strained. When
he opened his eyes, Piet and Speelman were arguing the matter out.
‘If you hang to me again with those dirty paws of yours I shall kick
you.’ Piet was saying in disgust.
‘But, baas, how can I help it, when Baas Daniel frightened me so?
Please give me some other tobacco, baas; mine fell, and I can’t find
it,’ he said supplicatingly.
‘Ask Baas Daniel; he made you lose yours, and now he can give you some
other.’
‘Oh, please, Baas Daniel, give poor old Speelman some other tobacco, I
have had nothing to smoke all the afternoon.’ said the old hypocrite,
as he went and stood in front of Daniel. Piet saw his opportunity was
come for revenge. He shouted,--
‘Speelman, kiss Baas Daniel.’
Speelman rushed forward and caught hold of Daniel, and tried his level
best to approach his already smacking lips to the lips of Daniel. The
woods rang with the roars of laughter as the young fellows saw the
biter bitten in this unexpected manner. Daniel caught hold of Speelman
by the throat, and even then he had great difficulty to keep the dirty
smacking lips of the Hottentot away from his, for Speelman had again,
for the second time, heard Piet’s command to ‘kiss Baas Daniel.’ At
last Daniel succeeded by main force to throw the Hottentot away from
him.
At first Daniel was inclined to resent the trick played on him by
Piet, but he was told that he had done as much to Piet, or nearly so,
in causing Piet to shake hands with the Kaffir woman; and he had to
acknowledge the truth of it and join in the laugh against himself.
When Steve recovered from his last fit of laughter, he called Speelman
to him, emptied his pouch in his hand, and said,--
‘Now, Speelman, tell me what makes you so disrespectful to your baas as
to try and kiss him?’
‘I can’t help it, baas, I am so _schriking_. When I am told to do
anything, I do it.’
‘But what makes you do so?’
‘Baas, when I was a boy I one day fell asleep under a tree. When I
awoke, a snake was partly coiled round my neck, and part of it was
coiled on my breast; and when I saw and felt it, I _schriked_ so I
thought I should die. I jumped up and tore the snake from me, and ran
away as fast as I could, until I was so tired I could run no more.
After that, baas, if you only say _snake_ to me, you can make me do
whatever you like.’
‘Snake,’ called out Steve’s cousin at this moment.
‘Where? Where? Where?’ shouted Speelman, dancing and jumping about.
‘Stand on your head,’ shouted Keith. He hardly expected his order to be
executed, and was surprised to see Speelman fall down and stand on his
head, kicking his heels in the air, while he shouted, _Slang, slang_
(snake, snake).
Steve now interposed, and said that they had had enough fun out of
Speelman for once. They ought to let him rest now and take breath.
The rest of the evening was spent in yarning and storytelling
generally, after which all went to bed.