Rustum, an English major and a friend, says to me,
“Motsweng, you have a voice man – write in the first person”. He then tells me
about the “Dagga stories”. I read the stories and I sort of get what he meant
about having a voice. Unrelated to all that, he goes on and on about how I
should stop justifying the margins when I write. Said something about it being
difficult to read en wat ook al. Ease of reading must be a big deal for
him, after all that is how he pays for his roll-it-yourself smokes. I pay for
my LPs and stuff by practicing law. Unjustified margins in our writing is not
the thing to do. I have often (that’s a long time ago) immediately on receipt
of a draft from a colleague, justified the margins before reading the draft or
anything. I mean, who sends out a draft like that? I would hiss under my
breath. All the while, I continued to split the infinitives for dramatico-legal
effect.
This is how conversation with Rustum always go. The
one moment we are talking about the kindness and generosity he showed my family
by making that amazing curry. He was not particularly happy with that pot. He
promised there would be another one, the next time he is in town. The next moment
we have a crazy lag about soft Cape Town rain and a certain whisky, or
is that whiskey? Now, we have to factor in the lockdown and inter-provincial
travel bans. Back then, we were going to make it a point we see each other
whenever we happen to be in each other’s city. Alas, we are in lockdown.
It is only day 3 of 21. So far, if Twitter and the
news channels are to be believed, there are people who still want to carry on
with their lives. I try to not look at the statistics anymore. All I think of
is how horrible it is going to get, a month or so from now. A beloved tells me
over the telephone yesterday, “out there in the rurals of the North-West,
people are going on about their business as if there is no lock-down, corona or
any of those city people things.” It is going to be bad; she says. We both
express a hope that by some miracle, the ignorant and the arrogant are spared.
I am fortunate, really fortunate. I generally spend a lot of time at home. By
choice mainly. Being at home has become easier over the years. Fifteen or so
years ago, I would be struggling. I am at home. More than that I am at home
with my parents. They are well even as they are both dealing with illness that
need attention. I am lucky to have them.
I am spending a lot of time wondering about other
places and other people. I wonder about my home in Ikageng; about my relatives
and relations elsewhere. My boss, partner, lover, friend and wife has been
nothing but stellar. That is when she is not annoyed to tears by me and my
complicated issues. We get frustrated and a little drunk together, often not
only during lock-down. We both “see” the shit that is going to hit us.
Privately, we hope this pass soon and without much drama (as she would put it).
We have plans, you know? Time bound plans. She’s excited that I sat down to
write this morning. I am terrified. She is my worst critic and greatest fan.
Confidence is in short supply these days. Thank the universe that truth and
vulnerability supply has increased. I am scared and excited and it’s ok with me
that I have no cooking clue.
This pandemic is a great opportunity for humanity.
Unfortunately, the systems that we believe in will not let us take the
opportunity and run with it. I grew up in an era where money was important but
not essential. My life with both parents working did not change that much when
my father was retrenched. Life carried on and needs were met. My children are
growing up (to be fair, two are pretty much all grown) in an era where if you
do not have money you are pretty much screwed. It pains me to accept that it is
a life I chose for them. Now we are here. Growing up, our biggest fear was the
system, the police and the comrades. Now, our biggest fear is not having an
income. This drives everything. We worship our jobs, our source of income even
as they suck joy out of our lives. We deride and spit on those that do not
have, and we even offer explanation why they are in those circumstances.
So, on this day 3 of 21, I am thinking, writing and
trying to access my voice; and not justifying the margins. Rustum has a point,
the police will harass the living shit out of you and kick you in the stomach,
because you are poor and do not have the means to kick them back. You may have
seen scenes of police ordering people to get inside their homes. These are
people who are in their yards, behind closed gates. Then there are the runners,
dog walkers and those spotted on some estate playing golf. She (partner, boss,
friend, etc.) just walked in and showed me a clip of some guy in what looks
like “an informal settlement” asking the police what lockdown means for them in
that squalor. “We all go to that same toilet…” he says to the policeman
pointing out the mobile toilet.
Are we not better off locking down the epicentres of
this pandemic and prohibiting Yusuf and reporters from roaming the streets of
the poor and vulnerable? Oh, there is that worry of what the police and the
army would do if not watched and recorded on smartphones. It is day 3 of 21 and
city people chose to go home. The lockdown and containment of the spread of the
virus is crucial. It helps that people stay home. There are a great number of
people who cannot stay home. I am not here talking about the essential service
providers. People who do not have a home to stay at, people whose only relief
is to be outside, on the streets. People who live with people who beat and
violate them. How can we make the lockdown to work for those South Africans
too?
Let’s see how all of this pans out. The universe is
shaking us by the scruff of our necks to change, we are putting measures in
place to keep things the same. Those countries that chose to nationalise all
private medical facilities, may you have the fortitude and common sense never
to revert to private health care.
I can’t help but wonder where I would be by day 21.
Where the world will be then. Will everything continue to be done or conceived
from the point of view of those with the means and the access?
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