Саранча

Дожди в тот год были хорошие, шли как раз тогда, когда нужны были для урожая, — так заключила Маргарет из слов мужчин, говоривших, что дожди неплохие. У нее никогда не было своего мнения о погоде: ведь для того, чтобы судить о такой, казалось бы, простой вещи, как погода, нужен опыт. А его-то у Маргарет не было. Мужчины — ее муж Ричард и старик Стивен, отец Ричарда, издавна хозяйничавший на ферме, — могли часами спорить, разорят ли их дожди в этом году или просто изведут. Маргарет жила на ферме три года. Она никак не могла понять, как это они до сих пор не пошли по миру, ведь мужчины ни разу добрым словом не помянули ни погоду, ни землю, ни правительство. Но Маргарет уже начинала понимать их язык, язык фермеров. Они и не разорялись и не богатели. Они тянули лямку и жили вполне сносно.

Они выращивали кукурузу. Их ферма в три тысячи акров была расположена среди горных кряжей, которые тянутся к Замбези, на высокой сухой местности, обдуваемой ветрами холодной и пыльной зимой, а сейчас, в сезон дождей, окутанной горячей дымкой, мягкими, влажными волнами поднимавшейся над зеленым морем, которое простиралось, насколько хватал глаз. Красиво там было: вверху — голу.....

Out ran Margaret to join them, looking at the hills. Out came the servants from the kitchen. They all stood and gazed. Over the rocky levels of the mountain was a streak of rust-coloured air. Locusts. There they came.

At once Richard shouted at the cook-boy. Old Stephen yelled at the house-boy. The cook-boy ran to beat the old ploughshare hanging from a tree-branch, which was used to summon the labourers at moments of crisis. The house-boy ran off to the store to collect tin cans, any old bit of metal. The farm was ringing with the clamour of the gong, and they could see the labourers come pouring out of the compound, pointing at the hills and shouting excitedly. Soon they had all come up to the house, and Richard and old Stephen were giving them orders — Hurry, hurry, hurry.

And off they ran again, the two white men with them, and in a few minutes Margaret could see the smoke of fires rising from all around the farm-lands. Piles of wood and grass had been prepared there. There were seven patches of bared so.....

There was silence after this further explanation, and then Gideon remarked indifferently that he could not remember the root. His face was sullen and hostile, even when he looked at the Farquars, whom he usually treated like old friends. They were beginning to feel annoyed; and this feeling annulled the guilt that had been sprung into life by Gideon's accusing manner. They were beginning to feel that he was unreasonable. But it was at that moment that they all realized he would never give in. The magical drug would remain where it was, unknown and useless except for the tiny scattering of Africans who had the knowledge, natives who might be digging a ditch for the municipality in a ragged shirt and a pair of patched shorts, but who were still born to healing, hereditary healers, being the nephews or sons of the old witch doctors whose ugly masks and bits of bone and all the uncouth properties of magi.....