Crucially, Gordimer refuses to make the narrator a hero. His motives are mixed. He wants to help, but he also wants to be rid of the problem. He is angry at Petrus for causing the trouble, at the dead man for dying, and at the government for making his life difficult. He never once learns the brother’s name. The man remains a nameless "boy," an object of procedure. This is Gordimer’s sharpest critique: even the most sympathetic white person in apartheid South Africa cannot fully see the humanity of the black subject. The narrator’s final failure to find the grave is a symbolic failure of empathy. He returns home, his brief moral outrage exhausted, while the system continues unchanged.
The family’s immediate problem is practical: where to bury the man. The narrator, driven by a mix of guilt, irritation, and a vague sense of justice, decides he will bury the brother on their own land. He sees it as a simple, humane gesture. He contacts the local municipal office to get a permit. six feet of the country by nadine gordimer summary
The title’s final meaning is tragic. For the black worker, "six feet of the country" is a privilege that can be revoked. His body does not belong to his family or his community; it belongs to the state’s racial map. And for the white narrator, those same six feet are an illusion of ownership. He learns that he does not truly own his land—he only rents it from the apartheid regime. In this devastating, quiet story, Gordimer buries the myth of personal innocence alongside the nameless brother, reminding us that under a system of legalized evil, there is no neutral ground. Crucially, Gordimer refuses to make the narrator a hero
In a final, bitter compromise, the narrator pays to have the body exhumed from a temporary grave (where Petrus had secretly buried it overnight) and transported to the state-mandated cemetery. The story closes with the narrator and Lerice visiting the "native location." They find a vast, barren, and unmarked field of graves. They cannot find Petrus’s brother’s grave. All they see is an anonymous stretch of earth, identical for every black person. The narrator realizes that his battle was never about this one man, but about the principle of dignity—a principle the state systematically obliterates. He is angry at Petrus for causing the
Nadine Gordimer’s short story, Six Feet of the Country , is a masterclass in minimalist political commentary. Set in apartheid-era South Africa, the story uses a deceptively simple domestic incident—the death of a black farm worker—to expose the vast, uncrossable chasm between white privilege and black suffering. Through the first-person narration of a white Jewish immigrant named Lerice, Gordimer demonstrates how even well-meaning white South Africans are complicit in a system that reduces human beings to bureaucratic obstacles and property. This essay provides a summary of the plot and then unpacks the story’s central metaphor: the desperate need for physical space to bury one’s dead, and the state’s cold denial of even that.
The story is narrated by a white man who, with his wife Lerice, runs a small "holding"—a rural plot of land outside Johannesburg. They have recently moved from the city, seeking a simpler life. Their primary interaction with the black population is through their servants, particularly their houseboy, Petrus.
The narrator’s journey is one of forced political awakening. Initially, he is a typical liberal white South African: irritated by the demands of his black servants, dismissive of Lerice’s softer sympathies, and convinced that he is a fair man. He does not see himself as a racist. However, as he fights the bureaucracy, he is forced to confront his own powerlessness. He cannot buy, bribe, or argue his way past the law. For the first time, he experiences a fraction of the dehumanization that black South Africans live with daily.