Old Man Character Analysis

LENA: Wasn’t it after Redhouse? Out last time here. Remember, that boer chased us off his land. Then we came here. Is that right?
[Boesman ignores her.]
Then we went to Korsten.
BOESMAN: After here we went to Korsten?
LENA: Ja. [Boesman laughs at her derisively.] How was it then? [Pause.] You won’t tell me.

LENA: […] Even when you’re also awake. You make it worse. When I call you, and I know you hear me, but you say nothing. Sometimes loneliness is two . . . you and the other person who doesn’t want to know you’re there.

LENA. Come over!
BOESMAN. Jou verdomde....
LENA: [sees the violence coming and moves away quickly] To hell with you! I want him.
[Calling.] Hey, darling! Kom die kant!
[To Boesman.] Sit in the dark and talk to myself because you don’t hear me anymore? No, Boesman! I want him! Hey! He’s coming.

BOESMAN: He’s not brown people, he’s black people.
LENA: They got feelings too. Not so, Outa?
BOESMAN: You’ll get some feelings if you don’t watch that fire.
[Lena is waiting for a word from the old man with growing desperation and irritation.]
LENA: What’s the matter? You sick? Where’s it hurt?
[Nothing.]
Hey! I’m speaking to you.
[The old man murmurs in Xhosa.]
Stop that baboon language! Waar kryjy seer?

LENA: […] Look, Outa. I want you to look.
[Showing him the bruises on her arms and face.]
No, not that one. That’s a old one. This one. And here. Just because I dropped the sack with the empties. I would have been dead if they hadn’t laughed. When other people laugh he gets ashamed.

LENA: […] We waited for Boesman to sleep, then he came and watched me. All the things I did—making the fire, cooking, counting bottles or bruises, even just sitting, you know, when it’s too much . . . he saw it. Hond! I called him Hond. But any name, he’d wag his tail if you said it nice.
I’ll tell you what it is. Eyes, Outa. Another pair of eyes. Some thing to see you.

LENA: […] And even when they’re down, when you’ve made your place and the fire is burning and you rest your legs, something stays heavy. Hey! Once you’ve put your life on your head and walked you never get light again.

LENA: […] That’s not a pondok, Boesman. [Pointing to the shelter.] It’s a coffin. All of them. You bury my life in your pondoks. Not tonight. Crawl into darkness and silence before I’m dead. No! I’m on this earth, not in it.

BOESMAN: […] That’s all it is, tonight or any other night. Two dead Hotnots living together.
And you want him to look? To see? He must close his eyes. That’s what I’ll say for you in the kaffertaal.
Musa khangela! Don’t look! That’s what you must tell him. Musa khangela!

BOESMAN: Well, I’m just warning you, you better have answers ready. Dead man! There’s going to be questions.
LENA: About him? About rubbish? […] Hot stuff, hey. ‘What’s his name?’ ‘Where’s he come from?’
BOESMAN: Never saw him before in my life!
LENA: ‘Who did it?’
BOESMAN: [sharply] Did what? He died by himself.
LENA: Too bad you can’t tell them, Outa.
BOESMAN: I did nothing.
LENA: Why don’t they ask some questions when we’re alive?

LENA: […] That’s the worst. When you didn’t do it. Like the hiding you gave me for dropping the empties. Now you’ll know what it feels like. You were clever to tell me. It hurt more than your fists. You know where you feel that one? Inside. Where your fists can’t reach. A bruise there!

LENA: […] What’s your big word? Freedom! Tonight it’s Freedom for Lena. Whiteman gave you yours this morning, but you lost it. Must I tell you how? When you put all that on your back. There wasn’t room for it as well.

LENA [pause….she is loaded]: Is that the way it was? How I got here?
BOESMAN: Yes.
LENA: Truly?
BOESMAN: Yes.
[Pause.]
LENA: It doesn’t explain anything.
BOESMAN: I know.
LENA: Anyway, somebody saw a little bit. Dog and a dead man.

LENA: Wasn’t it after Redhouse? Out last time here. Remember, that boer chased us off his land. Then we came here. Is that right?
[Boesman ignores her.]
Then we went to Korsten.
BOESMAN: After here we went to Korsten?
LENA: Ja. [Boesman laughs at her derisively.] How was it then? [Pause.] You won’t tell me.

LENA: […] Even when you’re also awake. You make it worse. When I call you, and I know you hear me, but you say nothing. Sometimes loneliness is two . . . you and the other person who doesn’t want to know you’re there.

LENA. Come over!
BOESMAN. Jou verdomde....
LENA: [sees the violence coming and moves away quickly] To hell with you! I want him.
[Calling.] Hey, darling! Kom die kant!
[To Boesman.] Sit in the dark and talk to myself because you don’t hear me anymore? No, Boesman! I want him! Hey! He’s coming.

BOESMAN: He’s not brown people, he’s black people.
LENA: They got feelings too. Not so, Outa?
BOESMAN: You’ll get some feelings if you don’t watch that fire.
[Lena is waiting for a word from the old man with growing desperation and irritation.]
LENA: What’s the matter? You sick? Where’s it hurt?
[Nothing.]
Hey! I’m speaking to you.
[The old man murmurs in Xhosa.]
Stop that baboon language! Waar kryjy seer?

LENA: […] Look, Outa. I want you to look.
[Showing him the bruises on her arms and face.]
No, not that one. That’s a old one. This one. And here. Just because I dropped the sack with the empties. I would have been dead if they hadn’t laughed. When other people laugh he gets ashamed.

LENA: […] We waited for Boesman to sleep, then he came and watched me. All the things I did—making the fire, cooking, counting bottles or bruises, even just sitting, you know, when it’s too much . . . he saw it. Hond! I called him Hond. But any name, he’d wag his tail if you said it nice.
I’ll tell you what it is. Eyes, Outa. Another pair of eyes. Some thing to see you.

LENA: […] And even when they’re down, when you’ve made your place and the fire is burning and you rest your legs, something stays heavy. Hey! Once you’ve put your life on your head and walked you never get light again.

LENA: […] That’s not a pondok, Boesman. [Pointing to the shelter.] It’s a coffin. All of them. You bury my life in your pondoks. Not tonight. Crawl into darkness and silence before I’m dead. No! I’m on this earth, not in it.

BOESMAN: […] That’s all it is, tonight or any other night. Two dead Hotnots living together.
And you want him to look? To see? He must close his eyes. That’s what I’ll say for you in the kaffertaal.
Musa khangela! Don’t look! That’s what you must tell him. Musa khangela!

BOESMAN: Well, I’m just warning you, you better have answers ready. Dead man! There’s going to be questions.
LENA: About him? About rubbish? […] Hot stuff, hey. ‘What’s his name?’ ‘Where’s he come from?’
BOESMAN: Never saw him before in my life!
LENA: ‘Who did it?’
BOESMAN: [sharply] Did what? He died by himself.
LENA: Too bad you can’t tell them, Outa.
BOESMAN: I did nothing.
LENA: Why don’t they ask some questions when we’re alive?

LENA: […] That’s the worst. When you didn’t do it. Like the hiding you gave me for dropping the empties. Now you’ll know what it feels like. You were clever to tell me. It hurt more than your fists. You know where you feel that one? Inside. Where your fists can’t reach. A bruise there!

LENA: […] What’s your big word? Freedom! Tonight it’s Freedom for Lena. Whiteman gave you yours this morning, but you lost it. Must I tell you how? When you put all that on your back. There wasn’t room for it as well.

LENA [pause….she is loaded]: Is that the way it was? How I got here?
BOESMAN: Yes.
LENA: Truly?
BOESMAN: Yes.
[Pause.]
LENA: It doesn’t explain anything.
BOESMAN: I know.
LENA: Anyway, somebody saw a little bit. Dog and a dead man.