honours man named Roelf Stander, held a formal house committee inspection of the rooms.
You are the most disgusting cloud of flatus ever to disgrace this university, he told them at the end of the inspection. You have one hour in which to make your rooms spotless and put them in perfect order, after which you will be taken on a route march as punishment for your slovenly attitude. it was midnight when Roelf Stander finally announced that he was satisfied with the condition of their bedrooms and they were prepared for the route march.
This involved stripping them to their underpants, placing a pillow case over their heads, tying them in Indian file with a rope around their necks and their hands strapped behind their backs and marching them through the streets of the sleeping town and out into the mountains. The chosen route was rough and stony and when one of them fell he brought down the freshmen in front and behind. At four in the morning they were led back into town on bleeding feet and with their throats chafed raw from the coarse hemp rope to find their rooms had been raided once again and that Roelf Stander's next inspection would take place at five o'clock. The first lecture of the university day began at seven. There was no time for breakfast.
All this came under the heading of good clean fun; the university authorities turned a blind eye upon the rites on the grounds that boys will be boys and that the initiation ritual was a university tradition, instilling a community Spirit into the new arrivals. However, in this climate of indulgence the bullies and sadists who lurk in any community took full advantage of
the sanction accorded them. There were a few merciless
beatings, and one freshman was tarred and feathered. Mannfred had heard light talk of this punishment, but had not been able to imagine the dreadful agony that it inflicted when the victim's skin was sealed and his scalp and body hair matted and coated with hot tar. The boy was hospitalized and never returned to the university, but the affair was hushed up completely.
Other freshmen dropped out in those first weeks, for the self-appointed guardians of the university tradition made no allowance for delicate physical or mental constitutions. One of the victims, an asthmatic, was judged guilty of insubordination by the seniors and was sentenced to formal drowning.
This sentence was carried out in the bathroom of the residence. The victim was pinioned by four hefty seniors and lowered headfirst into the toilet bowl of the lavatory.
Two fifth-year medical students were present to monitor the victim's pulse and heartbeat during the punishment, but they had not made allowance for his asthma, and the drowning almost ended as the real thing. only frantic efforts by the budding doctors and an intravenous injection of stimulant started the boy's heart beating again; he left the university next day, like the other dropouts, never to return.
Manfred, despite his size and physique and good looks, which made him a natural target, was able to bridle his anger and check his tongue. He submitted stoically even to extreme provocation until in the second week of torment a note was pinned on the board in the residence common room: all flatus will report to the university gymnasium at 4 pm on Saturday to try out for the boxing squad.
Signed: Roelf Stander Captain of Boxing Each of the university residences specialized in some particular sport: one was the rugby football house, another was field and track; but Rust en Vrede's sport was boxing. This, together with the fact that it was Uncle Tromp's old house, was the reason why Manfred had applied for admission in the first place.
It was also the reason why the interest in the freshmen try-out was far beyond anything that Manfred had expected.
At least three hundred spectators were assembled, and the seats around the ring were all filled by the time that Manfred and his fellow flatus arrived at the gymnasium. Marshalled by one of the senior men into a crocodile column, they were marched to the changing-rooms and given five minutes to change into tennis shoes, shorts and vests, then lined up against the lockers in order of height.
Roelf Stander strolled down the rank, glancing at the fist in his hand and making the matchings. It was obvious that he had been studying them during the preceding weeks and grading their potential. Manfred, the tallest and sturdiest of all the freshmen, was at the end of the line, and Roelf Stander stopped in front of him last.
There is no other fart as loud and smelly as this one, he announced, and then was silent for a moment as he studied Manfred. 'What do you weigh, Flatus? This flatus is light heavyweight, sir, and Roelf's eyes narrowed slightly. He had already singled Manfred out as the best prospect and now the technical jargon heartened him.
Have you boxed before, Flatus? he demanded, and then pulled a wry face at the disappointing reply.
This flatus has never boxed a match, sir, but this flatus has had some practice.
A Oh, all right, then! I am heavyweight. But as there is no
one else to give you a match, I'll go a few rounds with you, if you promise to treat me lightly, Flatus. Roeff Stander was captain of the university squad, amateur provincial champion and one of South Africa's better prospects for the team which would go to Berlin for the Olympic Games in 1936. It was a rich joke cracked by a senior student and everybody laughed slavishly. Even Roelf could not hide a grin at his own preposterous plea for mercy.
All right, we'll begin with the fly-weights, he continued, and led them out into the gymnasium.
The freshmen were seated on a long bench at the back of the hall with an imperfect view of the ring over the heads of the more privileged spectators as Roelf and his assistants, all members of the boxing squad, put the gloves on the first trialists and led them down the aisle to the ring.
While this was going on Manfred became aware of somebody in the front row of seats standing and trying to catch his eye. He glanced around at the senior men who were in charge of them, but their attention was on the ring so for the first time he looked directly at the person in the crowd.
He had forgotten how pretty Sarah was, either that or she had blossomed in the weeks since he had last seen her. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed with excitement as she waved a lace handkerchief and mouthed his name happily.
He kept his expression inscrutable, but lowered one eyelid at her in a furtive wink and she blew him a two- handed kiss and dropped back into her seat beside the mountainous bulk of Uncle Tromp.
They have both come! The knowledge cheered him enormously; until that moment he had not realized how lonely these last weeks had been. Uncle Tromp turned his head and grinned at him, his teeth very white in the frosted black bush of his beard; then he turned back to face the ring.
