Trouble with a Capital Tee

Extract from Chapter 5:  The great Tsumeb rodeo.

   We made our way through the bush in single file, Murray in the lead followed by Barry.   In fact we did blunder on to a working party of Ovambo labourers who were busy repairing a bunker.   What they must have thought of a group of children aged between ten and thirteen, each armed with a piece of rope, creeping in single file through the bush can only be imagined.   However when they caught sight of Merryweather in full cowboy regalia they immediately dropped their spades and burst into delighted applause.   Clearly the cowboy movies shown once a week at the labourer’s hostel were extremely popular.   Merryweather was bringing up the rear by some distance.   Cowboy chaps and spurs may be the ideal rodeo outfit but were far from  serviceable when  circumnavigating acacia thorn bushes. Merryweather rose to the occasion despite his somewhat thorny attachments and swept off his hat and bowed.  This brought a further burst of laughter from the digging team.

   Hot and sweating from our exertions in the summer sunshine, we arrived at the fence which enclosed a large maize field which acted as fodder for the farm livestock.   We sat down and waited until a bedraggled red faced Merryweather struggled out of the bush.   He immediately sat down.  

Once he had regained his breath he informed us that his father was right 'bloody Africa was no place for a Texan!'   Never having heard Merryweather swear before or for that matter use more than three words in a sentence, we were impressed.

   After a short rest Murray and Barry decided we should stay put, out of sight in the maize stalks while they reconnoitered the area to find suitable steers and broncos.   They disappeared in the maize but soon returned.   They indicated that they had found a herd of cattle and we were to follow.   Emerging on the other side of the maize field we saw several dozen beasts grazing in a lucerne field.   They were a herd of Afrikander cattle, red in colour with large humps and long sweeping horns.   I noted that they were all cows, but despite that their horns looked enormous.   I looked at my piece of rope, looked at the girth of the cattle and realised that even had I wanted to ride one of these beasts, my piece of rope was totally inadequate.

   All of us stared at the quietly grazing cattle, not one of us wanting to be the first to admit being scared.   Murray was the first to act.   He took a deep breath and began to climb the fence into the lucerne field.   Once over the fence, he took a few tentative steps toward the grazing cows.   He stopped, formed a loop with his rope just as he had seen the cowboys in the movies do it and approached an elderly cud chewing cow.   Afrikander cattle are generally skittish and can be aggressive but the cow ignored him.   Slowly he got closer and closer.   We held our breath admiring his courage.   When he was within an arms length of the cow she stopped grazing and lifted her head.   Murray froze.   This was the moment critique!   The cow looked at Murray, Murray looked at the cow .... and in a foolhardy gesture he threw his rope over her horns.

   The cow clearly startled, gave a sweep of her long horns, Murray let go of the rope, the cow turned and took a step toward him.   At a speed we had never assumed him capable of, Murray took off, scaled the fence and fell heavily on our side.   The cow had stopped and was watching us with the rope dangling from her horns.

   Murray picked himself up and muttered something about bloody cows under his breath.   Little Stevie Jooste stared at the cows which seemed even larger as we looked and remarked that he thought his mother would like him to come home round about now.

   Barry had moved away from us as a group and had walked down the fence a distance.   He now came back and said 'Look guys these cows are a bit too big but there are a group of calves in the next field.'