The Schooldays of Jesus

J. M. Coetzee was the first author to win the Booker Prize twice and was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2003. His works include
Waiting for the Barbarians
,
Life & Times of Michael K
,
The Master of Petersburg
,
Disgrace
,
Diary of a Bad Year
,
Three Stories
and
The Childhood of Jesus
. He lives in Adelaide.

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First published in Australia by The Text Publishing Company in 2016

Jacket and page design by W. H. Chong

Cover image by Scarlett Koehne

Typeset by J&M Typesetting

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

Creator: Coetzee, J. M.

Title: The Schooldays of Jesus / by J. M. Coetzee.

ISBN: 9781925355789 (hardback)

ISBN: 9781925410204 (ebook)

Subjects: Children—Fiction.

School children—Fiction.

Interpersonal relations—Fiction.

Dewey Number: A823.3

The paper used in this book is manufactured only from wood grown in sustainable regrowth forests.

Algunos dicen: Nunca segundas partes fueron buenas.

Don Quixote
II.4

CHAPTER 1

HE WAS expecting Estrella to be bigger. On the map it shows up as a dot of the same size as Novilla. But whereas Novilla was a city, Estrella is no more than a sprawling provincial town set in a countryside of hills and fields and orchards, with a sluggish river meandering through it.

Will a new life be possible in Estrella? In Novilla he had been able to rely on the Office of Relocations to arrange accommodation. Will he and Inés and the boy be able to find a home here? The Office of Relocations is beneficent, it is the very embodiment of beneficence of an impersonal variety; but will its beneficence extend to fugitives from the law?

Juan, the hitchhiker who joined them on the road to Estrella, has suggested that they find work on one of the farms. Farmers always need farmhands, he says. The larger farms even have dormitories for seasonal workers. If it isn't orange season it is apple season; if it isn't apple season it is grape season. Estrella and its surrounds are a veritable cornucopia. He can direct them, if they wish, to a farm where friends of his once worked.

He exchanges looks with Inés. Should they follow Juan's advice? Money is not a consideration, he has plenty of money in his pocket, they could easily stay at a hotel. But if the authorities from Novilla are really pursuing them, then perhaps they would be better off among the nameless transients.

‘Yes,' says Inés. ‘Let us go to this farm. We have been cooped up in the car long enough. Bolívar needs a run.'

‘I feel the same way,' says he, Simón. ‘However, a farm is not a holiday camp. Are you ready, Inés, to spend all day picking fruit under a hot sun?'

‘I will do my share,' says Inés. ‘Neither less nor more.'

‘Can I pick fruit too?' asks the boy.

‘Unfortunately no, not you,' says Juan. ‘That would be against the law. That would be child labour.'

‘I don't mind being child labour,' says the boy.

‘I am sure the farmer will let you pick fruit,' says he, Simón. ‘But not too much. Not enough to turn it into labour.'

They drive through Estrella, following the main street. Juan points out the marketplace, the administrative buildings, the modest museum and art gallery. They cross a bridge, leave the town behind, and follow the course of the river until they come in sight of an imposing house on the hillside. ‘That is the farm I had in mind,' says Juan. ‘That is where my friends found work. The
refugio
is at the back. It looks dreary, but it's actually quite comfortable.'

The
refugio
is made up of two long galvanized-iron sheds linked by a covered passage; to one side is an ablution block. He parks the car. No one emerges to greet them save a grizzled,
stiff-legged dog who, from the limit of his chain, growls at them, baring yellowed fangs.

Bolívar unfolds himself and slides out of the car. From a distance he inspects the foreign dog, then decides to ignore him.

The boy dashes into the sheds, re-emerges. ‘They've got double bunks!' he shouts. ‘Can I have a top bunk? Please!'

Now a large woman wearing a red apron over a loose cotton frock appears from the rear of the farmhouse and waddles down the path toward them. ‘Good day, good day!' she calls out. She examines the laden car. ‘Have you come a long way?'

‘Yes, a long way. We wondered if you can do with some extra hands.'

‘We can always do with more hands. Many hands make light work—isn't that what the books say?'

‘It will be just two of us, my wife and I. Our friend here has commitments of his own. This is our boy, his name is David. And this is Bolívar. Will there be a place for Bolívar? He is part of the family. We go nowhere without him.'

‘Bolívar is his real name,' says the boy. ‘He is an Alsatian.'

‘Bolívar. That's a nice name,' says the woman. ‘Unusual. I am sure there will be a place for him as long he behaves himself and is content to eat scraps and doesn't get into fights or chase the chickens. The workers are out in the orchards right now, but let me show you the sleeping quarters. On the left side the gentlemen, on the right side the ladies. No family rooms, I'm afraid.'

‘I am going to be on the gentlemen's side,' says the boy. ‘Simón says I can have a top bunk. Simón is not my father.'

‘Do as you please, young man. There is plenty of space. The others will be back—'

‘Simón is not my real father and David is not my real name. Do you want to know my real name?'

The woman casts Inés a puzzled look, which Inés pretends not to notice.

‘We were playing a game in the car,' he, Simón, intervenes. ‘To pass the time. We were trying out new names for ourselves.'

The woman shrugs. ‘The others will be back for lunch soon, then you can introduce yourselves. The pay is twenty
reales
a day, the same for men and for women. The day is from sun-up until sundown, with a two-hour break at midday. On the seventh day we rest. That is the natural order, that is the order we follow. As for meals, we supply the foodstuffs and you do the cooking. Are you happy with the terms? Do you think you can manage? Have you done picking before? No? You will soon learn, it is not a high art. Do you have hats? You will need hats, the sun can be quite fierce. What else can I tell you? You can always find me in the big house. Roberta is my name.'

‘Roberta, pleased to meet you. I am Simón and this is Inés and this is Juan, our guide, whom I am going to drive back to town.'

‘Welcome to the farm. I am sure we will get on well. It's good that you have a car of your own.'

‘It has brought us a long way. It is a faithful car. You can't ask for more than that in a car, fidelity.'

By the time they have unloaded the car, workers have begun straggling back from the orchards. There are introductions all round, they are offered lunch, Juan included: home-baked bread,
cheese and olives, great bowls of fruit. Their group is about twenty in number, including a family with five children whom David guardedly inspects from his side of the table.

Before he takes Juan back to Estrella, he has a moment alone with Inés. ‘What do you think?' he murmurs. ‘Shall we stay?'

‘It seems a good place. I am prepared to stay here while we look around. But we must have a plan. I haven't come all this distance to settle into the life of a common labourer.'

He and Inés have been over the ground before. If they are being pursued by the law, they ought to be prudent. But are they being pursued? Do they have reason to fear pursuit? Does the law have such ample resources that it can dispatch officers to the farthest corners of the land to hunt down a six-year-old truant? Is it of veritable concern to the authorities in Novilla whether a child does or does not go to school, so long as he does not grow up analphabete? He, Simón, doubts it. On the other hand, what if it is not the truant child who is being hunted but the couple who, perjuriously claiming to be his parents, have kept him out of school? If it is he and Inés who are being sought, rather than the child, then should they not lie low until their pursuers, exhausted, abandon the chase?

‘A week,' he proposes. ‘Let us be common labourers for a week. Then we can reassess.'

He drives to Estrella and drops Juan off at the home of friends of his who run a printing shop. Back at the farm, he joins Inés and the boy in exploring their new surroundings. They visit the orchards and are initiated into the mysteries of the shears and the pruning knife. David is wooed away from their side and disappears, who
knows where, with the other children. He returns at suppertime with scratches on his arms and legs. They have been climbing trees, he says. Inés wants to put iodine on the scratches but he will not let her. They retire early, like everyone else, David to his desired upper bunk.

By the time the truck arrives the next morning, he and Inés have had a hurried breakfast. David, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, does not join them. Along with their new comrades they climb aboard and are delivered to the vineyards; following the example of their comrades, he and Inés hitch baskets on their backs and set to work.

While they labour the children are free to do as they please. Led by the eldest of the tribe of five, a tall, skinny boy named Bengi, with a mass of curly black hair, they race uphill to the earthen dam that waters the vineyards. The ducks that had been paddling there take off in alarm, all save a pair with young too immature to fly, who in an effort to escape urge their brood toward the far bank. They are too slow: the whooping children head them off, forcing them back to the middle of the dam. Bengi begins hurling stones; the younger ones imitate him. Unable to flee, the birds paddle around in circles, quacking loudly. A stone strikes the more gorgeously coloured male. He rises half out of the water, falls back, and splashes around trailing a shattered wing. Bengi gives a cry of triumph. The torrent of stones and clods of earth redoubles.

He and Inés harken uncertainly to the clamour; the other pickers pay no attention. ‘What do you think is going on?' says Inés. ‘Do you think David is safe?'

He drops his basket, clambers up the hillside, arrives at the dam in time to see David give the older boy so furious a shove that he staggers and nearly falls. ‘Stop it!' he hears him shout.