Tjieng Tjang Tjerries and Other Stories. Jolyn Phillips

Why?’

      ‘Sing it with me, Japie.’

      ‘You should stop drinking, Fraansie. Oom Tas is driving you mad. This is pure dronkverdriet.’

      ‘Ag toe, man …’

      ‘Okay, then. You will have to start first.’

      ‘Lamtietie damtietie doe-doe, my liefstetjie,’ we both started.

        Moederhart rowertjie, dierbaarste diefstetjie

        Luister hoe fluister die wind deur die boompetjie

        Heen en weer wieg hy hom al oor die stroompetjie

       

        Doe-doe-doe blaretjie, slapenstyd nadertjie

        Doe-doe-doe blommetjie, nag is aan kommetjie

        So sing die windjie vir blaartjies en blommetjies.

      Japie and I both started laughing. Japie took a deep breath. The tears made his heart lighter. ‘It’s in the past now,’ Japie said, talking to the sky, with a vague look in his eyes.

      ‘Please forgive me, Japie.’ I looked at my brother, smiling. I had not felt like this in years.

      ‘Forgive yourself first, Fraans,’ Japie said. ‘Forgive yourself.’