One Day

There are good moments in our lives when unpleasant incidents seem to fizzle the fun out of them. Moments are to be enjoyed for they quickly dissipate in to another day. You can never atone for it, or get back the moment once it has passed. A moment becomes a yesterday, which are meant to teach what one chooses to do right and to do what is right, not because we believe it’s right. Doing what is right is not easy, especially when one encounters something unpleasant. Every moment is a choice, a choice to be happy, a choice to be excited, a choice to have fun, or we can sit in the corner and hold everyone responsible for our unhappiness. But emotions can run deep, and any form of sensibility can be reduced to insanity.

Marigold had choices and she had chosen to love the summers she spent with her father, even when some moments had become unpleasant. It would begin with Mr. Otto picking up Marigold at her apartment, other times, Mona would drop her off at the boat, though they was often late getting there, didn’t mean to start off with the wrong foot. That didn’t stop Lucille and she would be fuming, while Mr. Otto kept quiet. Marigold would say goodbye to Mona, and cheerfully greeted her father, and waved and waved until Mona was out of sight.

Being at sea was something new to Marigold, the smell of the ocean, the blue, the bright sun excited her. Marigold quickly learned her father’s routine, especially when Lucille was around. In the morning, they all had breakfast together. Marigold who didn’t have much of an appetite would have a small bowl of fruit. She wasn’t familiar with fruit, but the different colors enchanted her, the smell of the nectar was delectable and when she tasted them she found them to be sweet. Mr. Otto’s face lit up when he watched her eat the fruit.

After breakfast, Marigold had to entertain herself as Mr. Otto and Lucille spent the morning sunbathing. Marigold would go whale watching, or view the ocean with a spyglass, other times she would search for Cecilia and helped in any of the chores Cecilia was occupied in. There was so much to do on the boat it kept Marigold busy that her father had to go searching for her.

A light lunch was then served at noon. Marigold managed to eat her lunch as they were plain and simple. Nobody didn’t have much to say as Lucille took up most of the conversation about restaurants, shopping and her friends. After lunch, Lucille would take a nap, sometimes Mr. Otto followed her to her room–but of course that is none of our business– other times he staid on the deck and spent time with Marigold. He would call Marigold over, have her sit on his lap, and gaze in to the horizon. He was awfully pensive. Marigold could not recall if anything was said exactly, but she enjoyed the moment.

Lucille’s habits were unpredictable. Sometimes she would emerge from her cabin minutes before dinner, angry about one thing or another, or simply because Mr. Otto did not join her for her nap. It was rare that she would join them on the deck, and never in a good mood. She had a habit of making little sounds when she was displeased, especially towards Mr. Otto’s lack of affection, which he would quickly correct. Mr. Otto tolerated Lucille. Marigold felt sorry for her father. She didn’t know what to make of Lucille’s behavior, and chose not to pay attention. As the summer dragged on, Marigold learned that Lucille was not kind to anyone, even to Mr. Otto. But, it was not her place to say anything and tolerated Lucille for the sake of Mr. Otto.

When dinner was served since it was only them, it became a three course meal, consisting of an appetizer, entree and dessert. When they had guest on board the meals could be as extravagant as an eleven course, which Marigold would only last by the third before falling asleep. Mr. Otto, knowing his daughter, had have her skip the appetizer and start on the entree, finishing everything with a dessert, which she much enjoyd whole heatedly.

The Royal Mary spent her days out at sea and when it reached port, Lucille was quick to disembark. Marigold barely saw them leave as Mr. Otto was whisked away by Lucille. When he stayed behind and that’s when Marigold noticed they would argue, mostly about her. In fact, Marigold was quite aware Lucille quarreled with Mr. Otto quite often. They were not loud about it, but it was evident neither couple was happy. It was obvious, Lucille was transforming in to the green-eyed monster. How can anybody be jealous of a little girl? But it happens, I’ve been witness to it. Adults turning green for a child, is preposterous. Nevertheless, that was the case.

Marigold kept much her self, and watched and waited as Mr. Otto struggled in his relationship with Lucille. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but she kept her distance as she had never seen two people fight the way they did. It made her have stomach aches and as the fights continued and intensified, her aches increased to the point her digestive system was disrupted and her eating became a constant worry to her father. She didn’t want her father to be unsettled and made an effort to eat until the aches became so strong she could barely get out of bed. Mr. Otto sent for a doctor but the doctor could not find anything wrong. Lucille believed Marigold was pretending just to get attention, and that didn’t make anything better for any of them.

The Profit

They named him, the Profit, a man of God, a man who loved his people, the Boers. He was a poor farmer, who lived as any farmer lived in the late 1800s and early 1900s. He made his shoes from tanned hide, as many farmers did, and everything else he owned he made with his two hands. His father was a farmer and his brothers became farmers. It was all they knew and all they wanted to do. He had little schooling as most poor farmers did and learned enough to read the only book he ever clutched to his chest, the Bible.

He was reserved, spoke only when it was necessary and kept quiet most of the time. From the time he was a child to when he became a man, he carried the burden of seeing his people suffer. His deep, blue eyes told the story of what he saw in his dreams about the future. The future was unsettling as it had been in the past and it wasn’t going to get better. He carried a deep love for his family and his people, a love that most have lost through the years.

Only his mother saw the unhappiness in his eyes, while others recoiled in uneasiness. Many would say those blue eyes had seen things that no man could ever bear to be witness of. They held a truth, a calmness, that many found it disquieting. He would look deep and hard, into anyone’s eyes and they could see a galaxy of something curious and yet somber.

By the time he turned twenty his hair began to turn grey, as the future of his people weighed him. He was endeared with the nickname Uncle by the other farmers, a nickname given only to older farmers. The Profit had many visions, even in his younger years he had prophecies that sometimes he could not explain.

One night, when he was seven years old, a faithful servant came knocking on the door warning his mother of gangs approaching the farm. This troubled the mother as her husband had left the family farm to sell his goods in the nearby towns, thus leaving behind his wife and four children by themselves. They lived in uncertain times, and the only people around them were the animals, and the work hands that worked for the family, other neighboring farms were miles away.

The children were asleep and she quietly awoke them, telling them to get ready to leave. But the Profit, calmly assures his mother that there was no need to leave for God would protect them, and it was best to stay. She felt the urge to leave, but the Profit insisted they should stay and told his mother if she must go to go, but he would stay. For a moment, she had forgotten that God was to protect them, and blind faith was needed to believe of such power. The mother looked into her sons deep, blue eyes and realized he spoke the truth, for faith was all she had for the love of God. She bravely yield to stay and gathered the children in the living room where she laid them down to sleep while she kept the fire burning in the fireplace.

The mother grabbed her gun and stayed awake through the night, the Profit kept her company as they waited in silence. By sunrise, all is well, and for a moment they come to believe the storm had passed. All was too quiet, but mother and son barely utter a word and feel a peace around them. Surely, they were out of danger. Mother, takes a peek outside the window and to her surprise she sees the gangs of blacks, restlessly standing outside their home. They appear uneasy, as if something displeased them and then unexpectedly they turn and run away, discouraged by something or someone. The mother couldn’t quite explain herself, but she greatly understood it was the hand of God that protected them. If her faith in God was ever strong this was only reinforced further.

The Profit, even at the tender age of seven, had an unquestionable faith in God, a kinda of blind faith, that takes time to nurture, and can only be felt by those that don’t need to see to believe. The Profit, indeed have a gift, as we all do, but unlike many of us, he accepted them, no matter how unhappy it was to see the future of his family and people. Of course, the love he had for his people are now forbidden. Woe to those who call evil good and good evil.

The Profit did exist, he had a name, he had a family and he was born in Rietkuil in 1864.