Hello my Dearest Readers!
This week I want to introduce you to a story my dad told us as children.
He died earlier this year. 1 March 2022 to be exact at the age of 77 years old. I hope he rests now. The last few years he was less and less than the man I remember as my dad.
Anyways, enough of that.
He was raised in Reitz, a town in the eastern Free State. Other than one or two towns, most of the towns are a bit obscure.
In this town was a general trader. The man never married and had no family that my dad could remember. Being raised in the 40’s and 50’s in the time predating the Republic of South Africa, most people were frugal in their lifestyle.
This man however lived noticeably above the lifestyles most of his fellow townsmen did. And everybody, I mean EVERYBODY, was suspicious. And watched him closely. My dad loved calling him a ‘dandy’ or in Afrikaans a ‘laventel haantjie’. It’s quite patronising but it’s done now.
He had a distinct routine. Which elicited numerous rumors.
Just for clarity, the cars in that time seldom had a brake peddle that was stepped on or a lever that the driver pulled like we see in most old cars. Most drivers had to jump out of the car, run to the tires and prop a brick in front of one tire or 2 tires, depending on the vehicle. My character had a driver and this particular task rested on his shoulders.
Also, this story dates from a time where black people were employed as servants in South Africa and received the atrocious treatment common in those days. I wanted to keep the telling of the story the same. This does by no means represent my view point. If it’s inclusion offends you, I apologise. That is not my intention.
That is all I’ll say on the details of the story.
Besides, most are theories and rumors and we all know that it’s a 50/50 chance that the rumor is correct.
Please look out for Pebble In My Brick this Friday.
That’s it for now.
Until next time!
