White Man Crawling

Quite Epiphanic, Really

78 Quite Epiphanic, Really Licking walls and chewing coal were not the only cravings glorious Gloria developed when she became pregnant for the first time. She discovered the art of bonsai, which appealed to her elan vital. In the ornamental miniature tree she perceived not the flesh and bones, not the word, but the… well… a kind of pervasive transforming influence, like leaven. How did whatsisname put it: Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made: Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Yes. A merging of nature and art. Not bones and eyes; not poetry; but coral and pearls – bon and sai. Quite epiphanic, really. Glorious Gloria’s husband, Anthinny, was one of those chartered accountants who did not fantasize about being a lion tamer; consequently he, his suburban utility vehicle, and his complete set of Gary Player golf clubs were a calming influence on the mother-to-be. He looked upon her eccentric behaviour with amused tolerance, and lavished her and the embryo with gifts inclining to the colour blue. While at school Anthinny had played first team rugby, and he was determined to repeat that transcendent experience, vicariously, through his son, er… they hadn’t yet thought of a name. Something Biblical, perhaps, like Mawk, or Methew. But what if it’s a girl? Darn it, life’s complicated! Gloria started looking round for specimens, and hit the jackpot at a nursery on the Old Esigodini Road, which had gone bankrupt and was selling its stock at giveaway prices. Among that stock were a number of indigenous trees, which had been unsold for years; consequently they had become root-bound in their black plastic containers, and already looked a bit like bonsais. She chose a baobab, a pod mahogany and, unfortunately it seems, a rain tree. Then she went 79 looking for containers: a deep flared oval for the pod mahogany, a rectangle with lip (soft corners) for the baobab, and a round cascade for the fateful rain tree. She bought some potting soil, some horticultural grit, and some composted bark. She already had the basic tools: a small pair of scissors for cutting shoots, a pair of tweezers for picking off bugs, secateurs for pruning and cutting roots, and a chopstick (nice touch) for combing out roots. As the baobab was already teetering to one side, she decided (nibbling a piece of coal) to shape it in the Windswept or Fukinagashi style. The Literati or Bunjin style would suit the erect pod mahogany, while the rain tree, already seriously stressed, would be made more visually exciting with a bit of deadwood, a jin, to the better informed. First things first. The specimens had to be transferred from their battered black plastic sleeves to the new stoneware containers. This required some quite ruthless snipping and combing of roots (quick lick of the dining room wall). Gloria asked her domestic worker, Eatmore, to help her, and that was when the trouble began. Eatmore took one look at the savaged rain tree and ran screaming out of the house. A sugared bun never failed on occasions like these, and, once Eatmore was back in the house, Gloria asked her why the panic. Eatmore came from a tribe that regarded the rain tree with great suspicion. She called it ichithamuzi. Water dripped from its leaves before the onset of the seasonal rains. Families who used its wood to make fire were destroyed. She urged Gloria to return it to the nursery, but Gloria dismissed Eatmore’s fear with amused contempt (these people!), and gave her another sugared bun. Gloria then got to work. She (well, Eatmore) washed the pots and covered the drainage holes with plastic mesh. She showed Eatmore how to insert the anchorage wire through one hole and back up another, and then how to spread the soil mixture across the base of the pot. Gloria did not trust Eatmore with secateurs so she herself had to cut back the sapling’s fibrous roots, shorten heavy roots, and create a compact root system at the trunk base. It made her feel quite sexy, somehow. When it came to planting, Eatmore refused to handle the rain tree. Gloria called her a stupid into [thing] and sent her off to scrub floors. 80 Single-handed now, glorious...