Over the past week we read several stories by Nadine Gordimer. Included in those was “Six Feet of Country.” Here she portrayed a white man who owned a farm and hired poorer Africans to work his land. His wife stayed home and helped with the chores along with the farmhands while the white man traveled to the city on business. He considered himself better than his workers and was disgusted with his wife. She was extremely unkempt and leveled herself with those she worked with.
One of the Africans had harbored his brother while his brother was sick. The brother was an illegal immigrant looking for work. Sleeping outside caused him to catch a chill and it ended up killing him. When the worker tried to get the owner’s wife’s help, the owner came out instead. Unlike what his wife would’ve done, he insisted on notifying the proper authorities and do thing according to “the book.”
Many things are wrong in this story. When the British invaded Africa they looked down on the simple ways the Africans lived. This is the same in the disgust the farm owner had for his workers and his wife. The uncaring views of the white authorities in the story, that lost the body of the brother, are another appalling instance. But this isn’t what my focus was drawn to.
I chose this story to write my blog about because I can relate to the families need for closure over the boys death. The family discovered during the funeral that they were given the wrong body. There are many reasons past the obvious that this wasn’t a good thing. For them, there were religious issues, closure, and the fact they paid the authorities to get the boy’s body back. I can emphasize with the closure issues. My brother committed suicide in 2002. My number was the only one on the note that he left, so the Philippi, WVA police department promptly notified me. I found myself in a whirlwind of hatred and grief. A few days later I blindly walked into the funeral only to discover that they had already cremated the body and didn’t want to have the ashes present. His adopted parents only had photos of him in order to preserve his smile in their minds. To this day I have never seen his grave or urn. It’s extremely difficult, if not impossible, to get closure when you never see the death. For years I have had dreams that he randomly shows up and tells me that he faked the entire things in order to escape the life of drugs and violence that he previously led. I understand that this isn’t possible, but subconsciously in my mind he never died. I can’t imagine how it would be to have a body to bury and suddenly discover that it wasn’t the correct person. I feel that this family would have the same problems I have encountered if they hadn’t seen the body previously. I would wish this on no one.
This is a poignant story of loss, and your empathy with the family in the story is clear. Most writers of Reader Responses have trouble with this part of writing a Reader Response, but you come to it naturally.
ReplyDeleteThe next step to remember to stay focused on the writing as well. In this particular case, it is important to remember that Gordimer is using this specific example to highlight a larger problem with the callous injustices of apartheid.