Bab pushed the other cows with authority to make room for the little calf and prompted it to stand up. Once on its legs the new born calf followed her all wobbly. She put her fist in front of its muzzle as if to feed it.
Calves were taught from birth to get milk from an oval machine on wheels with twenty big rubber teats all around it. She called this device the 'cafeteria'. Calves were quick to transfer from her fist to the cafeteria where they were fed with a nourishing synthetic milk.
Bab had been working there for a while now. She spoke English with a strong accent in chopped rhythm sounding more like a dialect. Even Scottie had problems understanding her at times. She explained her work, said it was rough but she enjoyed it very much. She used to roll her cigarettes and to drink and swear like a trooper. She was also very motherly with the calves.
Along a track between two pastures a long line of black and white cows were arriving. Seven hundred of them, Bab said. The herd was heading for the building where Kenji was working. To get there everybody had to stride over fences and wade in the mud. Young playful dogs were jumping up at the visitors.
One by one each cow came to take its place nicely on the merry-go-round that was turning clockwise slowly.
Sitting below, Kenji placed the four tips of the milking machine on the cows' udders. You couldn't hesitate, lag behind, nor miss. The merry-go-round turned slowly but relentlessly. It turned just long enough to empty the cows' udders. Once arrived at the other end of the circle the cows were freed from the milking machine by someone else pulling it sharply. Each cow then knew how to walk backwards a bit to get out of the merry-go-round before returning to caper in the meadows.
Kenji was in no position to hold a conversation. His visitors went to the house where he was staying with his Kiwi work mates and left the cake and some cigarettes on the kitchen table. Hanging around a bit more they eventually got back into the car and drove back to the hostel.
A novel featuring a Chinese doll, a French woman and a flute
03 March 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
About Me
FOREWORD
This is not a novel really. It has no plot, no beginning and no end. It is a slice of life, the way it happened, portraying real people. A slice of life set with fantasy. This text is my own bad translation of what I wrote in French between 1996 and 1999.
Blog Archive
-
▼
2007
(37)
-
►
January
(20)
- 31. Days were spinning by.
- 30. UNDOUBTEDLY THE JAPANESE IN ROOM 6
- 29. Are you learning Chinese?
- 28. IN THE MORNING ELLE PUT A MAGNETIC PHONE CARD
- 27. So, what do we do now
- 26. THE TALL, DARK AND QUIET BUILDING
- 25. Liyan, Elle and F-sharp boarded the bus
- 24. LIYAN WAS NOT HERE
- 23. Yeah, said Liyan
- 22. THAT EVENING AT THE FARM
- 21. Elle felt she had won
- 20. ELLE THIS MORNING WAS WALKING TOWARDS THE MARE...
- 19. The shearing was finished
- 18. EARLY ON MONDAY MORNING
- 17. Tension was growing
- 16. One day
- 15. The following day
- 14. AT THE HOUSE
- 13. As Elle was walking
- 12. IDLE AND ALONE
-
►
January
(20)
.jpg)

0 comments:
Post a Comment