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February 12, 2006
A little Mouse and Cat
When I was a boy I had the privilege of spending time on my grandfather’s farm in the Orange Free State, a province in South Africa.
It was a working farm with swaying cornfields, cattle, cats, dogs and two red Ford tractors.
The foreman on the farm was an old Tswana man named Piet. In my eyes Piet was one of the smartest people in the world.
He knew everything.
He could tell you when it was going to rain or when there was going to be thunder and lightening and no rain.
He would rub his chin and look up at the sky - for what seemed like hours, but in real time was only minutes – and tell you whether it was good kite weather or not.
He knew when the locusts were coming and he knew how to chase them away with acrid smoke from burning tires.
He knew when to run the cattle through the dip and when to brand them.
He knew when a cow was about to deliver a calf and he knew what to do when a calf was stuck inside its mother and needed help getting out.
When a wasp stung you, Piet knew how to rub the spot with an aloe plant to get rid of the sting.
I learned a lot from Piet, most of which I have forgotten.
I do remember, however, the time I walked with Piet to the spruit (small river) to fetch water when the windmill broke down.
On our walk, we passed through a clump of Bluegum trees and pretty thick brush.
Piet suddenly patted me on the shoulder and indicated for me to stop. Before I could ask why, he crouched down and signaled for me to do the same. He put his finger to his lips and I knew I had to be quiet.
My heart began to pound.
Piet pointed to the stump of an old tree a few feet away that had been struck by lightening. I stared at where he was pointing, but couldn’t see anything.
I looked at him and shook my head.
Piet took his gnarled old hands and placed one hand on each cheek. He turned my head slightly to face the roots of the tree. “Look,” he whispered. “At the bottom of the tree.”
Then I saw it. Not ten feet away. A wild cat. (At least I thought it was at the time. I found out later that is was one of the friendly barn cats.) The cat was so busy stalking something under the roots of the tree that it failed to notice us watching. (Or it chose to ignore us, which was more likely the case.)
Piet put his finger to his lips again.
I nodded.
He pointed at the roots again. That’s when I saw the mouse. I could not believe what I was seeing!
The mouse was not trying to get away from the cat. On the contrary, it was, in fact, challenging the cat. I was amazed. The little mouse seemed to be standing between the cat and a small lizard or a large insect it had caught and was trying to drag to its nest. I could not tell what the prey was from that distance but I could tell that the cat wanted what the mouse had and the mouse was having none of that.
Each time the cat moved closed the tiny mouse jumped forward and sent the cat scuttling backwards with its hair on end.
The interaction went on for a few minutes until the mouse got fed up, bared its little teeth and hurled itself at the cat with such intensity that the cat scampered off post haste and left the mouse to pull its prey into the roots of the tree.
“Piet stood up and stretched his back. “You see klein baas (little boss),” he said, pointing to the roots of the tree. “You don’t need to be big and strong to fight for what you believe in. You just need a big heart... and faith.”
Posted by trevor at February 12, 2006 11:36 AM
Comments
How wonderful that you had someone like Piet to teach you to see, to really see beyond the everyday boundaries of accepted things in our lives. To show you there is a balance in the unexpected (we expect the cat to win over the mouse...), and to open your mind and soul to the gifts of the moment. Someone like your Grandfather to believe in magic and the love he gave to you. They and others like your Mom sowed the seeds of who you are today. What a priceless gift! Thank you for sharing.
Posted by: Bonny at February 12, 2006 02:23 PM