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Our South African Boer Cousins 4
by Albert Russo

By the way, during the barbecue Maatje offered me boerewors, a kind of thick sausage that really looked like a spiraling piece of dogshit and, even though I didn't want to be rude, a loud bark crackled out of my mouth which froze her instantly, so she didn't insist, and neither did I.

On the second day of our visit to the farm Kif woke us up before the sun even rose, on account that he absolutely wanted us to watch how he was going to bottle-feed a calf that was born during the night.

“You may never have that opportunity again in your life, darling,” he woofed, “you absolutely must come and see this”.

When my second eye opened I wanted to twist his ears and something else which I can't mention here - it has to do with propriety, for I don't believe in vulgarity - didn't you notice it already?

So there we went, Bonka and I, following the baas to the barn like two yawning zombies.

“After Catje” - Kif gives each of his animals a name -, “I'll introduce you to her elder brother, and you'll have the privilege of taking care of him personally”.

A fat lot I was in the mood to nurse Catje's brother, what a privilege! And instead of saying yes, I gave out a half groan. Sis, as they say here - no, it doesn't mean sister, but ‘too revolting for words’ in Afrikaans. I began to drool like a bitch in heat, all the while I was perspiring. It sometimes happens to me when Bonka goofs up and I have to right the helm. My sight was so blurred that big drops of sweat and some tears of rage fell into the bucket of fresh milk. Then, suddenly, I tripped over it, spilling its whole content on the straw.

I was so embarrassed I didn't know where to look anymore. That is when you realize how hard farmers work and you no longer dare make fun of them. My knees began to knock together like two frantic bones greeting each other after a long separation. Some vacation!

This here trip of ours rolls like a movie shot at one thousand images per second, not because you believe you’ve suddenly landed in paradise, but because of the crazy hours imposed on us by cousin Kif. As for Kiffette, she has the honor of getting up half an hour before her paunchy hubby to prepare his breakfast. She grumbles instead of breathing.

Even before the sun reaches its zenith your brain starts melting in spite of that safari cap in which a tiny electrical fan is inserted, and soon drops of sweat run along your temples. You then have the impreshun you just caught a cold in that fookin’ heat, on account that you start sniffling like you want to cry your nostrils out, while you keep blowing your nose which turns clownish red, and you can’t feel it anymore. Sis, sis and sis!

From the GOSH ZAPINETTE! series (15 episodes in all)
18/9//21 Excerpted from Zulu Zapy wins the Rainbow Nation, by Albert Russo.