Rage - Smith Wilbur (книги читать бесплатно без регистрации .TXT) 📗
The van slowed as the streets became more crowded, and then some of them recognized Moses and ran ahead of them, clearing the way.
'Moses Gama! It's Moses Gama, let him pass!" And as they went by, some of them shouted greetings. 'I see you, Nkosi." 'I see you, Babo!" They called him father and lord.
When they reached the community centre which abutted the administration buildings, the huge hall was overflowing, and they were forced to leave the van and go on foot for the last hundred yards.
However, the Buffaloes were there to escort them. Hendrick Tabaka's enforcers pushed a way through the solid pack of humanity, tempering this show of force with smiles and jokes so the crowd made way for them without resentment.
'It is Moses Gama, let him pass,' and Victoria hung on to his arm and laughed with the excitement of it.
As they went in through the main doors of the hall, she glanced up and saw the name above the door: H. F. VERWOERD COMMUNITY HALL.
It was fast becoming a custom for the Nationalist governmentto name all state buildings, airports, dams and other public works after political luminaries and mediocrities, but there was an unusual irony in nanling the community hall of the largest black township after the white architect of the laws which they had gathered here to protest.
Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd was the minister of Bantu affairs, and the principal hi'chitec of apartheid.
Inside the hall, the noise was thunderous. A permit to use the hall for a political rally would have been denied by the township administration, so officially this had been billed and advertised as a rock 'n' roll concert by a band that gloried in the name of'The Marmalade Mambas'.
They were on the stage now, four of them dressed in tight-fitting sequined suits that glittered in the flashing coloured lights. A bank of amplifiers sent the music crashing over the packed audience, like an aerial bombardment, and the dancers screamed back at them, swaying and writhing to the rhythm like a single monstrous organism.
The Buffaloes opened a path for them across the dance floor and the dancers recognized Moses and shouted greetings, trying to touch him as he passed. Then the band became aware of his presence and broke off in the middle of the wild driving beat to give him a trumpet fanfare and a roll of drums.
Dozens of willing hands helped Moses up on to the stage, while Victoria remained below with her head at the level of his knees, trapped in the press of bodies that pressed forward to see and to hear Moses Gama. The band leader attempted to introduce him but even the power of the electronic amplifiers could not lift his voice above the tumultuous welcome that they gave Moses. From four thousand throats a savage sustained roar rose and went on and on without diminution. It broke over Moses Gama like a wild sea driven by a winter gale, and like a rock he stood unmoved by it.
Then he lifted his arms, and the sound died away swiftly until a suppressed and aching silence hung over that great press of humanity, and into that silence Moses Gama roared.
'Amandla! Power!" As a single voice they roared back at him, 'Amandla!" He shouted again, in that deep thrilling voice that rang against th rafters and reached into the depths of their hearts. 'Mayibuye!" They bellowed the reply back at him 'Afrika! Let Africa persist." And then they were silent again, expectant and wound up wit[ excitement and tension, as Moses Gama began to speak. 'Let us talk of Africa,' he said.
'Let us talk of a rich and fruitful land with tiny barren pockets or which our people are forced to live.
'Let us speak of the children without schools and the mother, without hope.
'Let us speak of taxes and passes.
'Let us speak of famine and sickness.
'Let us speak of those who labour in the harsh sunlight, and in the depths of the dark earth.
'Let us speak of those who live in the compounds far from their families.
Let us speak of hunger and tears and the hard laws of the Boers." For an hour he held them in his hands, and they listened in silence except for the groans and involuntary gasps of anguish, and the occasional growl of anger, and at the end Victoria found she was weeping. The tears flowed freely and unashamedly down her beautiful upturned moon face.
When Moses finished, he dropped his arms and lowered his chin upon his chest, exhausted and shaken by his own passion and a vast silence fell upon them. They were too moved to shout or to applaud.
In the silence Victoria suddenly flung herself on to the stage and faced them.
'Nkosi sikelel' iAfrika,' she sang.
'God save Africa,' and immediately the band picked up the refrain, while from the body of the hall their magnificent African voices soared in haunting chorus. Moses Gama stepped up beside her and took her hand in his, and their voices blended.
At the end it took them almost twenty minutes to escape from the hall, their way was blocked by the thousands who wanted the experience to last, to touch them and to hear their voices and to be a part of the struggle.
In the course of one short evening the beautiful Zulu girl in the flaming crimson dress had become part of the almost mystic legend that surrounded Moses Gama. Those who were fortunate enough to be there that evening would tell those who had not, how she had looked like a queen as she stood and sang before them, a queen that befitted the tall black emperor at her side.
'I have never experienced anything like that,' Vicky told him, when at last they were alone again, and the little blue and crimson van was humming back along the main highway towards Johannesburg. 'The love they bear you is so powerful --' she broke off. 'I just can't describe it." 'Sometimes it frightens me,' he agreed. 'They place such a heavy responsibility upon me." 'I don't believe you know what fear is,' she said.
'I do." He shook his head. 'I know it better than most." And then he changed the subject. 'What time is it? We must find something to eat before curfew." 'It's only nine o'clock." Victoria looked surprised as she turned the dial of her wristwatch to catch the light of a street lamp. 'I thought it would be much later. I seem to have lived a lifetime in one short evening." Ahead of them a neon sign flickered: 'DOLLS' HOUSE DRIVEIN. Tasty Eats." Moses slowed and turned the van into the parking lot. He left Vicky for a few minutes to go to the counter of the replica dolls' house, then he returned with hamburgers and coffee in two paper mugs.
'Ah, that's good!" she mumbled through a mouthful of hamburger.
'I didn't realize I was so hungry." 'Now what about this bone you threaten me with?" Moses asked, and he spoke in fluent Zulu.
'You speak Zulu!" She was amazed. 'I didn't know. When did you learn?" she demanded in the same language.
'I speak many languages,' he told her. 'If I want to reach all the people, there is no other way." And he smiled. 'However, young woman, you don't change the subject so easily. Tell me about this bone." 'Oh, I feel so stupid talking about it now, after all we have shared this evening --' she hesitated. 'I was going to ask you why you sent your brother to speak to my father before you had said anything to me. I'm not a country girl of the kraals, you know. I am a modern woman with a mind of my own." 'Victoria, we should not discard the old traditions in our struggle for liberation. What I did was out of respect for you and for your father. I am sorry if it offended you." 'I was a little ruffled,' she admitted.
'Will it help at all if I ask you now?" he smiled. 'You can still refuse. Before we go any further, think very deeply. If you marry me, you marry the cause. Our marriage will be part of the struggle of our people, and the road before us will be hard and dangerous, with never an end in sight." 'I do not need to think,' she said softly. 'Tonight when I stood there before our people with your hand in mine, I knew that was the reason why I was born." He took both her hands in his and drew her gently towards him, but before their mouths could touch, the harsh white beam of a powerful spotlight shone into their faces. Startled, they drew apart, shielding their eyes with raised hands.
