SUSANNA

34| A GOOD STORY

Catrijn had a philosophy which she proclaimed not only to the women in the lodge but everyone who showed an inclination to listen.

'Our life's are just a other story, ' she would say. That was her opening line before she told a story. Any story. Then a faraway expression would settle in her eyes while her browse and forehead creased as the drama and intrigue increased. Maybe it was exactly that ability which drew people towards her. From the soldiers in the garrison to the Commanders, their wives and even visitors. Catrijn drew them in and, once hooked they were instruments, a means to her ends. With a nature so big and gregarious - yet fickle and threatened - those who wandered too close hardly noticed when they were consumed. If they did it was impossible to escape.

'If this fort and its garrison want me to keep them cleaner than the bay at high tide, find me a spot inside the protection of the fort and these arms will wash from sunrise till midnight,' she said to someone close to Commander van Riebeeck soon after her arrival. She got her wish. And she came through on her promise: she washed from before sunrise till midnight in good or bad weather.

But Catrijn was not the kind of woman who revelled in solitude. She thrived on people. Noise, action, and a lively buzz. At any given night when the soldiers' wages burnt a hole in their pockets, she was close, in the inn, drinking, playing cards, and telling stories. Her stories were funny, and interesting. 'One thing, that Catrijn tells a good story,' they said. 'That Catrijn made me laugh last night.' And, although they did not know it she did. She did not make them laugh. She made them forget about their life, and their stories as soldiers of the Company. Even if only for one night.

The quarters of the slaves outside the fort was her go-to spot. That is where she gathered material for her stories. That is where she received validation, admiration and respect. Among the likes of Lydia, Lijsbeth, Maria, Dorothe, Zara was not a convict. There she did not have to speak like a slave. There she did not feel like a slave. There her simple philosophies brought smiles. Found resonance. There she owned her past and she proclaimed it to all who cared to lend her an ear. One story they knew well but time after time she would tear up and tell the story with all the required drama and suspense as if she told it for the first time. She told it so well, that they never grew tired hearing it.

'For a year and a half we indulged in all the carnal pleasures a man and a woman could offer each other. We lived in bliss, far better than any husband and wife in this Colony.

'Better than Jan and Maria and the old man Petrus and ?' Asked Lijsbeth.

'Way, way better. We went to bed with no caps, no undergarments and no bed clothes.' Laughter echoed down the dim lodge. Some of the women standing around in the courtyard stared in the direction of the laughter, expressionless. 'I loved that Claes with all my heart. Every part of this body belonged to him. Every day I cooked his favourite meal and delivered it to him, in person, at his workplace. It was a beautiful fortress in Batavia and my Claes worked for the Company stable master, Sieur Hendrick Christoffel Loser. I will never forget that day for as long as I live.' She paused to wipe her eyes. 'He asked me to make him a pot of cooked chicken and pork, but when I got there, he refused to eat with me. Can you imagine that man? The man tells me he already ate. Do you hear me? He already ate. Did that man hurt my feelings. I grabbed him by the neck. The word came from nowhere. It just came out.

'What did you say?' It was Lijsbeth. 'Tell us.'

'Moerkneuker,' I said. Some of the women put their hand over their mouths to express their fear of the word. 'It is a vile thing to accuse a son of enjoying the pleasures of the flesh with his mother. That gentle Claes turned into a bull. Grabbed me, here.' She touched her neck. 'Threw me to the ground. Chased me away shouting it is over over, I do not love you anymore.' Her head bobbed up and down and her face was in pain. 'You do not love me anymore? You Claes do not love me anymore? I knew it. I knew that Kleine Mina had something to do with his appetite. I got hold of a sharp stone and aimed between his legs. Claes was mine. Not Kleine Mina's. No one else's.'

'No.' The younger women shouted, covering their faces.

She nodded. 'Oh yes. I hit him with all the power I had in these arms.' She held her arm in the air. 'I missed his pleasure stick...but I damaged his bladder. My Claes died four days later.

'Poor Claes,' one of them said.

'Claes was dead. From then it was poor Catrijn... I, Catharine of Paliacatte was found guilty of murder. You will be tied to a stake and strangled until you are dead, the court said. What happened after that? Do not ask me. I blinked.' She clicked her fingers. 'Just like that, my execution became a life sentence. I was loaded on a ship with Angela, and Elizabeth and Anna over there,and here I am. The gods were on my side,' she said. They all nodded. 'I, Catharine of Paliacatte am a convicted criminal serving a life sentence for the death of my first love. My only love. Our lives are just a story.'

'Not a story. A nightmare.' Maria was perturbed. 'The Council stole my story and this damn lodge is a prison. I hate this place. I hate Commander van Riebeeck.'

'The night growls at all of us, Maria. Not only you.'

'So?' Maria could not hide her anger.

'Growl back, Maria.' She made a clawing gesture with her hands in front of Maria's face. The women broke out in laughter. 'What do we have to lose? Our freedom?' Her whole body shook. The sheer pleasure of watching her laugh made them join in. 'life is a story. Find a good path. One where freedom lurks. Push on, Maria, push on for as long you have air in your lungs and youth between those legs.'

Susanna stepped in. 'You are despicable.'

She turned to Maria. 'This lodge is not who we are, Hope. It is our worst nightmare.'

Catrijn snorted. 'Her name is Maria.'

Susanna ignored her. 'Do not let this whorehouse be your story. Maybe it is hers at the inn-' She addressed the rest of the women. They were quiet, faraway.

Catrijn interjected. 'Look at her. The new preacher's pet. Is he the father of your bastard son?'

'You are a dangerous woman. A convict treated like high society while we live in in this squalor. What is the real story of your life, Catrijn?'

'What are you saying?'

'I not saying anything. I am asking why are you treated so well?'

'I am all ears. Sounds like you have a story to tell.'

'Tell us the story of when Hans was imprisoned on the Island and you were drinking and playing cards with two male officers in your quarters. You lost 80 rijksdaalders but your story of misfortune at the hands of two high-ranking Company officers found its way to the Council of Justice. They were ordered to pay 25 rijksdaalders to you reducing your loss to 30 rijksdaalders. And they were fined for their infringement of the gambling laws. You were not fined or punished. How did you, a convict, pull that off?'

'I know people who know people. Is that a crime?'

'Not a crime. No. It is worse if a slave spy for the masters.'

Catrijn flew across the room in a swearing fit. Maria and a few of the women stood in front of Susanna.

Catrijn sauntered to the fort. When night fell a different Catrijn emerged in the solitude of her room. She cried about the loss of Claes, the man she loved with her whole heart, and died at her hands.

She cried about the death of Pieter Everaerts who promised her freedom only to die and leave her with an unborn child that became the property of the Company.

She regretted her liaison with Hans Christoffel Snijman. She was warned about him when he returned from Robben Island where he served a sentence for assault and desertion. But she, smitten by his strength and defiant nature he awakened the flames of manumission that Pieter once fanned. But alas, when the true nature of his character surfaced it was too late. Convicted for leaving his post and sleeping at her place he was flogged and banished to Robben Island for two years. Her dreams of manumission had beckoned once again but died when she was left with yet another child, no father and no station.

Despite her bad luck with men and failed attempts at manumission she clung to a belief that one day her story will change. One day the cards will go her way.

The tea leaves predicted that she and her three baptised children, Susan, Anthoni and Louis have a path in the Colony and she was determined to pursue it. No matter the cost.