ALAN PATON: Cry, the Beloved Country Remember to support your ideas with details from the writing. Either 19 Read this extract, and then answer the question that follows it: Outside the pleasant-faced man came and spoke to them and hearing their plans, invited them to his house, where he and his wife had a number of boys in their charge, boys who had left the big reformatory building and were living outside in these free houses. He gave them some tea and food, and he too told them that Absalom had become a head-boy, and had behaved well during his stay at the reformatory. So they talked about the reformatory, and the children that were growing up in Johannesburg without home or school or custom, and about the broken tribe and the sickness of the land, until a messenger came from the young man to say that he was ready. 5 It was not long before the motor-car had reached Pimville, which is a village of half-tanks used as houses, set up many years before in emergency, and used ever since. For there have never been houses enough for all the people who came to Johannesburg. At the gate they asked permission to enter, for a white man may not go into these places without permission. 10 They stopped at one of these half-tank houses, and the young white man took them in, where they were greeted by a young girl, who herself seemed no more than a child. We have come to inquire after Absalom, said the young white man. This umfundisi is his father. 15 He went on Saturday to Springs, she said, and he has not yet returned. The young man was silent awhile, and he frowned in perplexity or anger. But this is Tuesday, he said. Have you heard nothing from him? – Nothing, she said. 20 – When will he return? he asked. – I do not know, she said. – Will he ever return? he asked, indifferently, carelessly. – I do not know, she said. She said it tonelessly, hopelessly, as one who is used to waiting, to desertion. She said it as one who expects nothing from her seventy years upon the earth. No rebellion will come out of her, no demands, no fierceness. Nothing will come out of her at all, save the children of men who will use her, leave her, forget her. And so slight was her body, and so few her years, that Kumalo for all his suffering was moved to compassion. 25 – What will you do? he said. – I do not know, she said. – Perhaps you will find another man, said Msimangu bitterly. And before Kumalo could speak, to steal away the bitterness and hide it from her – I do not know, she said. 30 And again before Kumalo could speak, Msimangu turned his back on the girl, and spoke to him privately. You can do nothing here, he said. Let us go. – My friend ... 35 – I tell you, you can do nothing. Have you not troubles enough of your own? I tell you there are thousands such in Johannesburg. And were your back as broad as heaven, and your purse full of gold, and did your 40 45 compassion reach from here to hell itself, there is nothing you can do. Silently they withdrew. All of them were silent, the young white man heavy with failure, the old man with grief, Msimangu still bitter with his words. Kumalo stood at the car though the others were already seated. – You do not understand, he said. The child will be my grandchild. 50 – Even that you do not know, said Msimangu angrily. His bitterness mastered him again. And if he were, he said, how many such more have you? Shall we search them out, day after day, hour after hour? Will it ever end? Kumalo stood in the dust like one who has been struck. Then without speaking any more he took his seat in the car. 55 [from Book 1 Chapter 10]