The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay Read Free Book Online

bits small enough for him to swallow, explained the latest disaster to him. So much for my resolution not to cry. I could feel the tears running down my cheeks.
    After Granpa Chook had had his breakfast I picked him up and, fighting my way through the khakiweed and blackjack, I took him to the edge of the orchard to a low corrugated iron fence that marked the hostel boundary. Standing on tiptoe, I looked over the fence. My heart gave a leap; in the distance I could see three kaffir huts with smoke rising from a fire. For sure they’d keep kaffir chickens, and Granpa Chook could board with them.
    Considerably cheered, I explained this new plan to Granpa Chook and then pushed him over the fence. There is a blurred distinction between imagination and reality in a five-year-old child and the new plan, once imagined, was immediately achieved.
    Granpa Chook, though, had other ideas. With an indignant squawk and a flap of his wings he was back on my side of the fence. We pantomimed for the next few minutes: over the fence I’d put him and back he’d come. Finally it became clear that the toughest damn chicken in the whole wide world had no intention of deserting his friend, even if his own life was at stake.
    We waited at the kitchen door for about ten minutes before Mevrou appeared. “So this is the chicken that shits in your bed, Pisskop?”
    â€œIt wasn’t on purpose, Mevrou. He’s very clean and very clever too.”
    â€œLook who talks of clean! A chicken is a chicken. Who ever heard of a clever chicken?”
    â€œLook, Mevrou, I’ll show you.” I quickly drew a circle in the dust and Granpa Chook immediately hopped into it and settled down as though he was laying an egg, which he couldn’t of course. “He’ll stay in that circle until I say to come out,” I said.
    For a moment Mevrou looked impressed, and then she suddenly scowled. “This is just some dumb thing kaffir chickens do that white chickens don’t,” she said smugly.
    â€œNo, Mevrou!” I begged. “He can do lots of other things too!”
    I made Granpa Chook hop around the perimeter of the circle on one leg, going “Squawk” with every hop. I showed her how he would fly onto my shoulder and, at my command, peck my ear.
    This last trick signaled the end of Mevrou’s patience. “Your hair will be full of lice, you stupid boy!” she screamed. Just inside the kitchen door stood a butcher’s block with a large cleaver resting on it. “Give me that filthy, lice-ridden, bed-shitting kaffir chicken!” she yelled, grabbing the cleaver.
    Two cockroaches resting under the cleaver raced up the back of Mevrou’s hand. She let out an almighty scream, dropping the cleaver and frantically flapping both arms. One cockroach dropped to the floor, while the other ran up her arm and disappeared down her bodice.
    With a delighted squawk, Granpa Chook came charging into the kitchen and scooped up the cockroach that was frantically crossing the kitchen floor. Mevrou was waving her arms, her bosoms jiggling up and down. She made little gasping noises as though she was struggling to get a scream out as she danced from one foot to the other in extreme agitation. The second cockroach fell from under her skirt and made for a crack in the polished cement floor. But Granpa Chook was too fast for it and had it in a trice.
    Mevrou had turned a deep crimson and her head seemed to vibrate from the shock. “It’s orright, Mevrou, the other one fell out and Granpa Chook got it,” I said, pointing to Granpa Chook, who was strutting around looking very pleased with himself.
    I rushed to fetch a kitchen chair and Mevrou plopped down into it like an overripe watermelon. Taking a dishcloth from a drying rack beside the huge black wood-burning stove, I began to fan her the way I had seen Nanny do when my mother had one of her turns.
    I became aware of a dripping sound coming from