“Vorentoe! Vorentoe Koeie!”, I shouted in Afrikkan at the stubborn Graham cow in front of me, that would not move herself into the barn with the rest of her herd. “Vorentoe” means Forward and “Koeie” means cow for you English speakers. The cow just snorted and looked behind her bulky body at me with an annoyed glance. I glared menacingly back at her and smacked her hindquarters with a flat hand, crying, “Vorentoe! Forward!”
The cow just ignored me and knelt her head down to the plush grass of the massive pasture, she began to graze, munching busily on the green strands. I growled in frustration, Why wouldn’t this damn cow move!? This is definitely not going to be easy to move this bovine into the barn. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, it was at least 98 degrees out here. Sometimes I hated living in Africa but it was my home after all. I blew out my breath and knew it was time to rely on the help of a fellow slaaf or slave in English, on this farm. I looked around the pasture for a fellow slave who I knew would be capable of helping me and spotted the closest thing I have to a friend here. Tiki. He was renailing a part of the pasture gate that had apparently must have gotten loose. Tiki is quite a cute, African boy, with chocolate brown, flawless skin, dimples, black shaggy dreadlocks, and something rare for us Africans to have….Dark blue eyes. I bit my lip, deciding wether to ask for his help. I knew if I stood here doing nothing for too long, I would get in trouble and be whipped or punished by one of the guards watching over us slaafs (slaves). I would just ask for Tiki’s help anyway. He was always nice to me and I bet as soon as I said I needed help he would run right over here. I left the cow and started for Tiki’s direction.
“Tiki! Lig needs help with Koeie (cow) please!”, I cried to him. Tiki quickly turned around from his work on the wooden gate and lowered the hammer. He smiled at me, his blue eyes lighting up like his smile, and crowed, “Aaah. Tiki be glad to help Lig with cow!”
Here on the farm we all have a weird way of speaking English. We don’t usually use ‘I’ or ‘me’ when speaking to each other, barely ever actually. I have better English than Tiki though. Tiki set down the hammer on the gate and crossed the distance between us with a few strides of his long legs. Tiki is six feet tall and he towers over me. It doesn’t bother me one bit at all. He looked at me questioningly and asked, “How do you need help with koeie (cow)?”
I pointed at the Graham cow I was struggling with and told him, “The farmer wants all cows in the barn so they can be tagged and shaved for the Summer heat but this last cow won’t go in the barn.”
Tiki looked at the cow, nodding knowingly. He then glanced back at me and said, “Then you push, I pull. I will get rope from tool shed. Tiki will be right back.”
He ran off to the tool shed next to the barn for the cattle. I shuffled my feet and waited for him to return with the much needed rope. Tiki soon returned, the rope thrown over his bulky shoulder.
“Got rope.”, he simply uttered. I nodded and started for the koeie (cow). Tiki walked beside me quietly. Once we got to the cow, Tiki took the rope from his shoulder and looped some of it around the bovine’s neck and knotted it. He then gave the remaining rope a tug and the cow jerked forward but then dug in her hooves and stopped in place obstinately. Tiki jerked his head at me and instructed, “Lig! Push her ass.”
I giggled at the swear word and saluted him, going behind the cow and started to shove her towards Tiki, who at the same time was tugging on the rope, leading her to the barn. Finally, after a little work, the cow started to move with the pull of the rope and the rough push of my hands. She mooed angrily at us but kept on making her way with us to the barn. I smiled, Thank God! She was the last cow I had to get in the barn and then I would get my two free hours to go into town. Before I did go into town though I had to my hut here on the cattle farm and check on my two younger siblings, Pan and Baby as I call her since she wasn’t given a name.
