I fling myself on the bed, finally able to relax. I have not just faced certain death from a wild African beast or crazed Ndebele tribesman, I have just finished dinner. It is 9pm, I have retired to my rondavel, to another lonely night after a luscious dinner of roast kudu, in a rich brown gravy accompanied by three vegetables from the farm garden. Desert was steamed golden syrup pudding and custard. The food was great, the meal atmosphere, for me, as always, a little tense. I am over aware of all the niceties of etiquette I have to observe, what obscure form of words or use of an implement have I forgotten or not learned? There is no malice in the way I am treated, my host, and employer are Rhodesian farmers, super aware of their place
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Since no one will ever see what I write there is no chance of my parents haemorrhaging. To be honest at this stage of my life "all that crap" is all I have. So here goes: My last day of school, six months earlier, was the apogee of my life. Finally, I did not have to obey the senseless school rules and dress codes nor bear, with few exceptions, the boring lessons or illogical opinions of teachers. I could make my own decisions, decide how to spend whatever I earned. I have a rebellious nature, I put considerable effort into being different. I have an insatiable urge to break every tradition and as many rules as I can. Some modicum of sense however held me back otherwise I may have ended up in a home for juvenile delinquents. My last day in East London, where I had lived with my grandparents during my high school years, was at the other extreme, the arsehole of my short life. After a less than ideal childhood, I had in the last three months in school had the unbelievable luck to love and be loved by a girl, Verity. On that first day of the first year of my new life I had to farewell her forever on the railway station. Two weeks later I was on the train to Rhodesia, my first job, the start of my new
Since no one will ever see what I write there is no chance of my parents haemorrhaging. To be honest at this stage of my life "all that crap" is all I have. So here goes: My last day of school, six months earlier, was the apogee of my life. Finally, I did not have to obey the senseless school rules and dress codes nor bear, with few exceptions, the boring lessons or illogical opinions of teachers. I could make my own decisions, decide how to spend whatever I earned. I have a rebellious nature, I put considerable effort into being different. I have an insatiable urge to break every tradition and as many rules as I can. Some modicum of sense however held me back otherwise I may have ended up in a home for juvenile delinquents. My last day in East London, where I had lived with my grandparents during my high school years, was at the other extreme, the arsehole of my short life. After a less than ideal childhood, I had in the last three months in school had the unbelievable luck to love and be loved by a girl, Verity. On that first day of the first year of my new life I had to farewell her forever on the railway station. Two weeks later I was on the train to Rhodesia, my first job, the start of my new