On the box were pictures where the components had to be.
The radio worked like a charm.
The room only had one small window, just above the nightstand.
I opened it.
Where many geraniums and mint used to grew, only dead branches and weeds remained.
I used to garden and take care of the yard.
You could see I was gone for a long time.
I moved the boxes under my bed and left the room.
One big change was that we now had running hot water.
It made all the difference in the world.
The days of putting a pot on the stove were gone.
"Going for a bath?" My mother asked.
She was in the living room reading "The Sun".
"Yes," I replied and went to stand beside her.
My mother looked like a woman of 70 and she was only 49.
She had me when she was twenty.
I was an only child.
It was not the wrinkles that made her look old.
It was the blow to her right eye.
It made her whole face look different.
The eye sort of hung.
Around the edge of the brown, there was this grey color.
I could not make myself to look at it for too long.
It gave me the chills.
Her hair was still mostly brown, but you could see it was only the dye that hid the grey.
After dad past away, she only wore her hair short.
Bob.
Nothing special, but it suited her round face.
It was always very long and all along her back.
"What’s in the paper?"
"Oh, just the same," she said with a sigh, "more murder and death. Another baby was raped in the Flats."
"Is the baby still alive?"
"Yes, but they say there is a chance that she will not make it. Shame."
She put down the newspaper.
“Where are you going?"
"Cape Town. Thurston said I should meet him there."
"What is he up to lately? Last time I saw him, he was still at Buy-rite."
"No, he's no longer there. He now works for another company. I'm not sure what he does there though. "
"Tell him to come and visit."
"I will."
"Go and take your bath. Anne will be here soon. You know once she starts asking questions, she never stops."
***
I was out of the house before Aunty Anne arrived back from work.
Very reluctantly, I made my way out of the gate.
I did not want people to see me.
Relax, I urged myself on, the people will barely remember you...
"My goodness! Look at you!"
This shrill voice was familiar to me.
Aunty Baby from next door.
What was the hippo still doing here?
Last I heard, she got herself a white boyfriend from abroad.
Apparently treated her like royalty.
She talked of moving to Germany, or was it Switzerland?
I could not recall.
I remember that I was glad that she was leaving.
She only used my mother.
Abused her kind and caring nature.
"Boy, you're tall. And do you shave?"
"Hello Aunt ..."
"Listen to the deep voice," she interrupted me.
"You sound like a real grown man. How old are you now?"
"Twenty E…”
"Just as skinny as you were as a child. You look much more attractive. You do not have that flat nose anymore. You look exactly like a white man’s boy."
"My father was ..."
"A good man. I know. He took good care of your mother. I met him just before he left with your mother for South West. That was before you were born. And just look at you now."
She appeared to be in her own world.
She was not as fat as she used to be.
Her hair was still black, and as always tied at the back.
"Well handsome, I have a lot of laundry still to be washed."
And without a word from me, she went back into her house.
***
I walked quickly.
Almost jogged.
Hurry.
If they see you.
I was barely past the second house from ours.
It felt like an eternity.
I did not want to bump into them.
Do not worry, man.
It was a long time ago.
Nobody will remember.
"Relax Sherwin," I told myself.
"Take a deep breath."
"Chin up. Hold your head high."
Run.
***
For a Saturday the station was pretty quiet.
I remember there was a time that you could hardly find a spot on the platform.
Everyone was always in haste and bumped into each other.
Then there were the guys with blades.
Robbed you right there.
With everyone watching.
I was still cautious.
Things change, but not everything.
I was amazed at all the black people at the station.
As I recall, I never saw any black people in Cape Town before.
I mean before Nelson Mandela was released from Robben Island.
And even then, I was already back in Namibia.
Not in school and certainly not in public.
Things have definitely changed in South Africa.
Do not be casual.
Look around.
They might be about.
It was quarter past eight.
The train to Cape Town was at twenty past.
Platform four.
I hope I read the schedule correctly.
A few guys entered the station through a hole in the fence.
On the train tracks, on the platform, just a little away from me.
This was the kind you had to be careful for.
Some things never change.
I was hoping they would avoid the first class.
The train arrived promptly at twenty past eight.
The rush of people in and out of the train before the conductor blew the whistle, always fascinated me.
Someone always jumped in late and someone had to force the doors open.
The car was pretty full, but there were seats open.
I preferred to stand.
At the door.
Sitting close to strangers was not my thing.
It made me feel uncomfortable.
They know.
Directly left of me was an elderly woman with a toddler girl - probably grandmother and grandchild.
The woman had her hands full, because the child would not sit still.
Always wanted off the woman's lap and as the woman stopped her, she turned and slapped the woman.
Not hard, but still in the face.
Beside them was a young couple, maybe my age.
Both with dark glasses and it seemed like they were just staring into space.
The girl was very attractive.
Long, dark brown hair, sun burned skin and light pink lips.
I was not sure if it was lipstick or just her natural colour.
She would have looked nicer if she was not such a sourpuss.
The guy probably upset her - and that early on a Saturday morning.
Along the two was an open space and next to it, in the corner, a middle-aged man sat reading the newspaper.
The newspaper was certainly very interesting, because he never looked up.
His forehead was permanently pleated.
The opposite seats were all full.
A lean man with thick glasses and a cane was in the corner.
Beside him were three, um, big women - probably my mother's age.
They were beautifully dressed and their hair looked like they just came from a visit to the hairdresser.
You could smell th
em too.
The perfume was overwhelming, but fun.
Like a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day.
The three were chatting away – something about "blond ambition" and it was linked to Zille.
What this Zille woman did, I knew not, but the women were not very impressed with her.
They mentioned a Patricia De Lille too and according to the woman in the center - the largest of the three - they had to vote for this Patricia.
Everyone agreed.
Then it occurred to me.
The women were probably discussing the candidates for president of the church council.
They were probably on their way to church.
I would never think that there were Coloured people who were Seventh Day Adventists.
A hawker went from one corner of the car to the other and in a high voice shouted "Peanuts and chips!"
The peanuts sounded more like pee-ruts.
Train travel was always fun for me.
The sound of the train on the tracks.
The electrical wires.
Gwing-swing.
Unlike with a taxi or a bus, you would never get stuck in traffic.
You could always rely on the train to get you in time to where you wanted to be.
When I attended school here in Cape Town, I could name all the stations from our home to Cape Town station.
Now no more.
I remember Mowbray immediately after us, then Woodstock?
I was not sure.
Each station had its own characters.
At Mowbray station one of the train surfers leaped on.
One of the dare devils that hung out the train and ran on the platform.
I've heard how a couple lost their lives doing that.
The thrill I could understand.
Must sure be nice to feel like you are flying.
But gambling like that with your life, I could not fathom.
Maybe that was the real thrill.
Then I saw her.
At Woodstock station.
Our car stopped a little away from her.
She got into the one next to ours.
A warm glow suddenly came over me.
My hands started sweating.
My heart beat faster.
Will she still recognize me?
Darn!
Why did I get on this train?
Do not say I did not warn you.
You should never have returned.
The drive from Woodstock Station to Cape Town station flew by like nothing.
My head a pain of whether I should play it cool and just walk, because she would not recognize me, or should I run when the doors open as soon as possible to disappear?
The answer was unclear.
All I knew was that she at this moment was with me in one train.
Could she sense me?
No, man.
We never had that connection.
Not like with her.
We were barely friends.
Besides, she was with André.
No, I had nothing to worry about.
Relax.
The train arrived at Cape Town station.
I approached the door more.
Because I remember that it could get crowded on the station.
And because I just wanted to run.
The doors opened and I was on the platform in the direction of the entrance.
Oh no!
Today of all days they’re checking if you have a valid ticket.
A line formed and I was so tenth from the front.
I looked back but could not see her.
Just hurry up, please.
The guys took their time.
Chatted more with each other and tried to impress the women with Achmet and Flooze jokes.
I looked back and honest to God - there she stood.
Just a few people away from me.
Quickly I looked back.
She did not see me.
Or so I thought.
I was almost at the ticket inspector.
Only one more woman and finally me.
"Why so nervous?" Said a soft male voice and I saw it was the ticket inspector who was talking to me.
"I don’t bite. Or have you done something that you shouldn’t have?"
He looked at me over his glasses.
I could not believe the man's audacity.
Here I am trying to get away and he asks me unnecessary questions.
Just clip the bloody ticket and let me go, I wanted to scream.
But I said nothing.
Just smiled.
Stupid.
You should have given him a piece of your mind.
"Don’t worry. Shame. Your entire forehead is wet. And it's quite cold today. Here," hands me a tissue "this is to wipe your forehead with."
"Thank you," I said and put my hand out to my ticket.
He gave me one last look up and down, clipped the ticket and handed it back to me.
I was quickly through the bars and in Cape Town Station.
I wanted to run.
But...
"Sherwin!"
It was her.
That voice I could recognise anywhere.
Soft.
Velvety.
Slowly I turned.
She jogged towards me.
When she was a meter away from me, she stood and watched me.
Her eyes were full of tears, but she did not cry.
Then she just leaped forward and embraced me.
Nearly threw me off balance as she threw her arms around me.
She held me tightly for a while.
She smelled good and her hair was soft against my cheek and neck.
Then she left me and stood back.
"I cannot believe it! Sherwin. It is you."
Her eyes were still full of tears.
Even then she looked beautiful.
She always reminded me of Catherine Zeta.
Only she was not a picture, but real.
"Hi, Simoné," I greeted uncertain.
"When did you... Wow! My cheek is wet. You sure are sweating,” she said as she wiped her cheek.
"Are you hot? It’s so cold. Is there something wrong with you? "
"No, I..."
"Boy! You have no idea just how much I have missed you? You left without a word. No good bye."
"I ... I'm sorry," I said again, unsure.
What should I say?
That was years ago and I did not know whether I should tell her why I just up and left.
"I always hoped and prayed ... that I will see you again."
The tears trickled down her cheeks slowly.
"Please, do... do not cry," the lump in my throat was great.
"Oh, I'm just being silly. I'm just glad to see you. When did you come?"
"Yesterday... yesterday afternoon. I hitched a ride down."
The words came hard.
It made me sad to see her like this.
I could see there was more than what she was saying.
I gave her the tissue that I still had in my hand.
"Thank you. For how long…”
She blew her nose.
“How long are you still going to be in town for?"
Lie.
Say you are just here for the weekend.
To visit your mother.
She cannot find out.
Never.
"I'm not sure," I answered almost honest, "Still have to see."
"Well, if you are going to be here a while, then you should come visit me.” She sounded almost desperate.
I did not want to disappoint her, but I really couldn’t...
You cannot.
"I will see. Will call you." I lied.
I would not call her.
It would only make things worse for me.
"Um. Okay, I must go."
I started to walk.
"Wait," she grabbed my arm.
"You do not have my
number. How will you call me?"
She took out a pen and paper from her purse and wrote the number down.
Women carry everything in their bags.
"Here," call me anytime. During the day I am at work, but only until three in the afternoon."
"I will do that," I lied again.
"Promise? Please?” She said imploringly.
I just watched her at first.
I was not sure what to say.
She stopped crying, but still sniffled.
Her hair kept falling in her face and she had to brush it clear all the time.
Her brown eyes looked deep into mine.
I wanted to look away, but for some reason I could not.
There was something.
I was not sure what.
"I promise."
MORON!
Promises make debt, you know.
Yes.
I know.
iii
When I got over the shock of running into Simoné, I went to the bus station.
Thurston was meeting me there.
I was excited to see him.
We saw each other years last, but we always stayed in touch.
We went to primary school together.
This was in Windhoek, Namibia.
The years passed quickly.
We were both big men now - or did I just think so - that had to earn our own keep.
Until a few months ago, I still coped and now I'm back at my mom's house.
Life.
Thurston had his own place and lived with his girlfriend.
I still had to meet her.
The bus station was very busy when I arrived.
Busses pulling in and busses departing.
People in a hurry and hawkers trying to sell you a lollipop.
Fog came in and you could no longer see Table Mountain.
I forgot how the weather could change just like that.
I found Thurston immediately.
He was under the canopies smoking a cigarette.
"I see you are still sucking on those cancer sticks," I said jokingly as I greeted him.
"It was those losers at Buy-rite that drove me to them," he said with a laugh.
"But I thought you quit there." I mocked.
"Yes, yes. Old habits die hard."
"Awesome to see you again, man."
"You too. You never mentioned you were so tall."
He stood beside me to see how much taller than him I was.
"Sorry, bro. You will have to eat more Jungle oats," I laughed.
"Don’t care. The girls love me for who I am."
We both laughed.
iv
1991
"Sherwin! See who is at the gate."
My mom gave me a fright.
I was just getting the black leather pouch from my school bag.
Whatever was in there would have to wait.
I quickly put it back in my bag and that back under my bed.
My mother was in the bathroom.
Aunty Anne had not returned from work yet.
"I'll see, Mommy."
"Thank you. Maybe it's Aunty Baby with the roti."
It was dark outside.
I did not realize the sun had set.
After my mother doctored my leg, I waited for an opportunity to be alone.
There was not much of that.
I had to go take a bath and then eat.
My mom made soup that day.
Thick pea soup with dumplings.