Tuesday, December 8, 2009

What have we done.

Ag my kind, I'm in alot of pain.  It's the back operation, you know I can't even type at the moment.  I don't know what I would have done if Lynette hadn't come to take care of me.  Do you remember her?  She's my sister, the one in Gordonsbay.

Louise, one of my oldest and dearest people.  I call her last night to say hi and tell her I'm back.

You must put me in your prayers child, it's been a hard year, she says.
It sounds like it has been for everyone, I say.
But not for you, you went overseas, you had a great time.
It was great my auntie, but it was hard too.  It was a remarkable experience, but it wasn't easy. 
Ag my kind, so much happened whilst you were gone.  Barbara's husband got hijacked and killed a couple of weeks ago. 
Barbara that works for you?
Ja you remember her?  She's the one who's boyfriend literally cut off her nose to spite her face all those years ago.
I remember her auntie.
When her husband died... It was terrible.  I thought of you because we had a big traditional funeral for him and I attended.  I was even allowed to sit with all the women, it was so amazing, so whole, seeing all those proud men mourn that way.  Did you know that the ancestors in Jozi wake up at 12 but in Mpumalanga they wake up at 11am?
Hmmm, I say.  In Botswana they wake up at 3am!
I can't help but feel a certain amount of white guilt you know, she says and sighs.
Why, I say.  Why do you feel guilty if her husband got hijacked?  There's nothing you or anyone else could have done about it.
Ja, I know, but you know when I went for this operation... I had 10 specialists dancing around me and poor Barbara... He could have survived if he'd been given blood a bit earlier.  They just didn't get to him quickly enough, you know?  He could have survived...

The hijacking stories really get under my skin because of my own hijacking, because friends of mine have died horribly this way.  How do you explain to people what happens to you when you've had a close encounter with something that dark?  It's like a disease that infects you and breaks open your world forever.  You can never go back to the way it was before.  Louise sounds defeated tonight.  Her voice drags on the phone.  What have we done in this country, she asks me before she puts down the phone. 

What have we done?

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"And what does it live on?"
"Weak tea with cream in it."
A new difficulty came into Alice's head,
"Supposing it couldn't find any?" she suggested.
"Then it would die, ofcourse."
"But that must happen very often," Alice remarked thoughtfully.
"It always happens," said the Gnat.