Hans In Love

Hans pushed his shopping cart down Finnigan Road and enjoyed the feeling of the Cape Town morning sun warming his back. His shoes flapped against the tar where the soles had separated from the tops, and the string that held up his pants chafed against his hips every so often. He smelt the morning air, and knew that this would be a good day. True, he was poor, he wasn’t good looking, and he probably stank a little ‘cos his last bath had been four days ago; but today, he was buoyantly happy. Today, he had a New Girl and he loved her with all his might. 

Hans scratched in the dustbin of number 25. There was an apple with a bite taken out of it exposing the rotten core, some tins with scrapings in the bottom, and some vegetable peels. He left them. The bin at number 27 revealed half a Kentucky chicken burger and a clump of chips right at the top. Oh yes. Betsy would like that! Hans wouldn’t touch it, even though his stomach was grumbling a little. He would put it in the bottom of his trolley and save it for his lovely new girl with her knockout smile, and the playful twinkle in her eyes. 

The woman from number 29 was sweeping her stoep as he walked past. She was usually quite friendly. Hans stood a respectful distance away and bowed servilely. She glanced up and smiled; the smile was a little forced, a little tense, but it gave him the gap he needed. 

“Hello Mies.”
“Morning Hans, are you well?”
“Ja mies. Is mies well?”
“Yes I am thank you Hans.”
Hans straightened up and put on his sad face.
“Mies, does Mies have anything for me today please? I haven’t eaten since Tuesday.” It was a risky lie, but worth it. He had someone to look out for now; someone special. He didn’t want to go home without something nice for her. The lady from number 29 scowled slightly and said, “I’ll see what I have Hans, stay there.” He waited for her and thought about Betsy. 

At his age; to have found such joy in the company of another; to have found someone who understood him so completely; it was impossibly wonderful. He scratched his buttock and found a new hole in his trousers. Oh Well. Maybe he’d find a new pair today. 

The lady from number 29 came out with half a loaf of bread.

“Haai thank you Mies,” he said as she handed it to him, turning away as quickly as she could. “Sorry Mies,” he could see her irritation building; “sorry Mies, sorry.” he repeated, “Please Mies, do you have a little money for Hansie? Just a five rand or a ten rand?”

“I’m sorry Hans, I can’t give you money,” she said sternly, “you know it’s for your own good.” Her expression’s thin veneer of compassion betrayed a thick wad of impatience; she wasn’t going to give him more. Ah Well. He could have the bread, Betsy could have the burger; and there were lots of dustbins left. 

He was missing her already. He’d thought of bringing her along, but he hadn’t wanted to tire her, so he’d hugged her tight and asked her nicely to stay and wait for him, promising her that he would be back as soon as he could. He hadn’t wanted to expose her to these people with their disapproval; didn’t want her to see the way they looked down on him. He’d thought it might upset her a bit. And what if one of them were nasty to her? He couldn’t bear the thought. At number 48, Hans found a two litre bottle with some flat coke in the bottom, which he drank. At number 57, a T-shirt that had been used as a rag; no holes; it went into his shopping cart. 

When he got to number 60, his friend Clive, who had just arrived home in his bakkie, greeted him enthusiastically. “Hans! How are you today my broe?”

“Nee, master, I’m good today,” said Hans smiling.

“Hey dude. I have some work for you,” said Clive. Hans had a bit of a headache from the sun, and he was tired from pushing his trolley all the way from the railroad tracks, but work meant money. Money meant that he could get something nice for Betsy; so he pushed his trolley onto the pavement and helped Clive to pack some building rubble onto his truck. It was hard, heavy work and Hans hadn’t eaten yet; he wanted to wait till he got home so that he could eat with his new girl! As he lifted planks and chunks of cement, he thought of the way she looked at him, and it made him feel warm inside.

“You look happy today my broe,” said Clive as he watched Hans work. What’s happened? You win at the horses?”

Hans couldn’t help cracking a wide grin. “I have a new girl, master” he said, shyly.
“Haha that’s great,” said Clive, but his half smile told Hans that he was thinking; “these fucking coloreds… breed like rabbits… unbelievable.”

Hans didn’t mind. He knew it wasn’t like that. He had found true love; even though he was just a vagabond, Betsy didn’t seem to mind. She’d already made it clear that she loved him for who he was. Hans was ready to bet poor old Clive didn’t have that in his life. He finished loading up and wiped his dirty hands against his dirty pants with their new hole. His head was throbbing now, and he was a little dizzy and covered in sweat. He stood patiently as Clive thanked him and went inside to pull money from his wallet. Clive wouldn’t open his wallet in front of Hans; as though he thought Hans would grab the money and run.

Clive came out of the house with a whole fifty rand! “Go get that new chick of yours some good wine Hansie, no meths you hear?” He laughed.

“Thank you master, thank you very much,” said Hans, bowing repeatedly. With this, he could buy Betsy a meal fit for the queen that she was! He put the money carefully into his pocket and pushed his trolley off the pavement. He pushed his trolley all the way to Steers at the bottom end of Brooklyn and bought spare ribs for Betsy. His heart sang as the lady shoved the box into his hand. His new girl was in for a real treat! They both were; he would have Kentucky, she would have Steer’s ribs, and then she would lie in the crook of his arm and he would whisper the story of his day to her, and every so often, she would kiss him gently.

From Steers, he walked all the way back past Finnigan Road and on to the abandoned railroad tracks where he lived. It took him an hour and a half. The whole time he walked, he smiled to himself. He knew she was going to be happy to see him! She would be even happier when she saw what he had for her!

Hans went past the tracks to behind the gutted station house building, where he had found an abandoned, rusty old carriage for himself. There were lots of old trains lying around here, decaying slowly in the sea air. Betsy was in the third one from the end, a rope around her neck, where he’d tied her up that morning. He was anxious to let her loose. Maybe she needed to pee. 

He climbed into his carriage and called softly. She was sleeping peacefully on a bundle of blankets on the floor, her nose hidden under her elbow. When she heard him she sprang up in delight, her little tail wagging so fast that her whole bum wiggled with it. “Betsy my darling, my new girl,” said Hans. “Just wait till you see what I’ve brought you!”