Part 7 - The Story of My Life

What follows in these tales from My life is a story I need to write. [[A story of life and drama that I long to write down. Not only for myself, but also as a reminder of things gone by. It is a story of forming and shaping and intrigue . But primarily it is a story about hope. If you choose to tread these pages with me, do so with reverence and kindness because one does not write these things lightly. If you are one who has the need to flirt a little with being nosy then perhaps you should pass by this story. For it is true and full. It needs not your judgment nor your advice. But if you want to read on, then read it as a novel should be read. For it is but just one story among many.

On becoming a real Human Being

I began varsity in the year my parents marriage really hit the skids. I felt alone in my sadness and pain of loss without any way to really express it except though ideas and politics. I became the antithesis of my narrow minded upbringing. The flame that had begun in my mind through the suffering in stories read and eye witness accounts of people around me was fanned into flame. The hard reality and injustices of our country were fought hardest against in the corridors and halls of the Universalities in South Africa. Students all over marched and campaigned. It was a time of teargas and danger where the then government would think nothing of throwing a white ‘butt’ in jail.

I left home in the dry African part of Johannesburg and traveled down to the very different Western Cape. It was here that I was to study Psychology. In truth I was totally unprepared in my mind and heart for this rip from home and so did not last the year. I came back home after the first term determined to spend that year lying in the sun, pondering my future. My parents were still married but in name alone. It was a sad but resting year and perhaps a year I needed to gather some strength and reserves for what lay ahead.

In the January of the following year I set of to become a teacher. I entered the halls and passages of quite different institution. JCE or The Johannesburg College of Education. It was an institution still held firmly in the clutches of the Apartheid government and so I was back to ‘Whites Only”. And yet…..

The University students took some classes on our compass and that is how I came to Edward and Mike. In truth I was drawn to black men, I found then exciting and forbidden for if my family should ever learn of my affair with a black man. The thought sent my heart racing. And so a firm friendship was born.

The first boy I thought I loved was a nice kid in primary school who came from a dysfunctional family. He was wild and exciting. He rode motor bikes which bought him the freedom in body that I longed for in my soul.

I fell in love a few times after that. One was to a young man while we were at school. It was unresolved love. An infatuation with a really nice guy who was so different from me. He was friendly and warm. He was surrounded by interesting friends most of the time and seemed to have a real sense of who he was and what he believed. He was my first real “love”.  I thought he was wonderful and could not quite believe that he might fancy me.I often wondered what happened to him after he broke my heart.

And then, there was Edward. I don’t think I loved him but we grew close together through mutual studying and interests. That is we both thought Apartheid ‘sucked’. We laughed and had fun. We talked a fair amount. We danced and drank together.  Some great memories were made on the streets of Joburg while protesting against this or that. These were, as I’ve said, dangerous times, where the secret police reigned and kept a sharp lookout for those who created unrest.

Once, a friend and I went on this long protest march in down town Johannesburg. Hundreds of people were there too. That was the day we got our lily white faces on the 6 o’clock news. Boy did we laugh. What would my grandparents say if they spotted me, toyi – toying with the rest of black Johannesburg?

 In actual fact it was Mike who was in love with me. I was to discover this in my last year after the relathionship between Edward and I had fizzled. We were having dinner at The Yard of Ale in Bree Street when Mike told me this simple fact. It was sweet. I felt special but in truth I had bigger plans. I planned to travel the world. I longed to leave this strange country  that I loved.

In my last year at college I met Geoff. I can not remember where or how I met him. He was a small man with a kind and very gentle nature. He had a special laugh. He loved Jesus. We entered into a calm and gentle relationship.   used to argue with him a lot about who God is and how he works and all that jazz. In my arrogance I thought I knew it all. And yet I was not satisfied with my self imposed answers the the big questions of life.

Geoff was a man who showed me kindness and honour something I had rarely experienced  from a man. He came from Cape Town and was a stranger in Johannesburg. He spent some holidays with us as a family. By now my parents were no longer together. Life had taken on a new normal. South Africa was balancing on the brink of change and I was about qualify as a teacher.