Old Hands, part 4

The Kruger family, our South African friends, had some new arrivals of a sort. Both Piet and Huibrecht were great patriots of their country and had worked for many years to bring about the end of apartheid. They had been in the foreign service a long time, and they had lived through the period in which South Africa was shunned by much of the world for its racist practices. “The best we could do was to be as gracious as possible wherever we were, and to entertain anyone in the diplomatic community who would have anything to do with us,” Huibrecht said. “But it was an uphill battle.”

They had long known that the positive changes in South Africa meant the end of their diplomatic life. “White people won’t be getting any more foreign postings,” Piet explained. “We can probably stay with the foreign service in Johannesburg, but we won’t be going abroad again. All new postings will go to blacks.” He was sorry to see the end of that part of his life, but he warmly supported the change.

The Krugers’ close friends and embassy colleagues, Karin and Ben, returned to South Africa and were replaced by Mfundisi Mtimunye, a black man who had never been out of the country before. I stood in awe as Huibrecht and Piet spent a great deal of time helping him to get a place to live and set up housekeeping in Madrid. The Krugers were serious about their Christian faith, and I thought this was an example of true Christian love at work. When Mfundisi sent for his wife and daughter, Huibrecht showed the family how to shop, and even how to cook using the unfamiliar appliances—the wife had lived in primitive circumstances. The Krugers got the family’s five-year-old daughter, Refilwe, admitted to the American School, and she became a favorite our sixth graders, Julie and Rosanne. “Oh, Mom, she’s so cute! You wouldn’t believe it,” Julie crooned.

* * *

There was a school event late in September, Family Day, when the parent association set up carnival booths and some of the student clubs ran fundraising activities. It was a lovely early fall day, and I chatted with Clarice Scarritt, who was running a bake sale. I was feeling so much at home, so happy with my friends and my surroundings.

“You know,” I said, “I wouldn’t want you to underestimate how much I enjoy being with you. I feel really lucky to have you as my friend.”

I remembered that we had a one-day school holiday in a week or so. “We’re going to take a day trip on October 12,” I said. “Do you guys want to come with us?”

“John has to work that day, but the girls and I would love to come,” she said. We decided to go to the canyons of the Río Duratón, north of Segovia.

The drive through the mountains and the high plains was beautiful on that cool, sunny day. The canyons were part of a big nature preserve. We drove from the dry, gray plain down to a lovely green gully where a small but clear river flowed. The four Haubenstocks and the three Scarritts hiked along the river, ducking between the slender trunks of countless yellow-leafed trees. Natalie and Julie ran on ahead, out of sight, which made Clarice and me nervous, but we found them again. Large birds soared above us, and the breeze and the quiet made for a perfect day.

For lunch we drove into the town of Sepúlveda, which had a small but lovely Plaza Mayor, and we stopped in the pretty town of Riaza on the way home. It seemed there was hardly a town in Spain that did not have something beautiful to see.