Skipping reels of rhyme.
Chapter One.
It was 1995 and John was in standard seven, matric was only four years away, but it seemed like an eternity. He filed along the tidy row in front of the English class, as they entered the door one by one, and was seated alphabetically from front to back.
This meant that he sat somewhere in the second row with the 'B's, his surname being Britz. Next to him on his left, was seated a fairly pretty girl, who's name turned out to be Natasha Booysen. The teacher introduced herself as Mrs. Pretorius and then started the day, and the year's, lesson.
"Good day class said the teacher "This year we will be reading from 'Alice in Wonderland' by Lewis Carroll which is truly one of the great pieces of English literature of all time. Your prescribed books this year are the 1995 edition of 'Alice in Wonderland' by Brimax Books. It has wonderful color illustrations by Eric Kincaid, and is in plentiful supply at all school book suppliers.
She continued, "As we have no books as of yet, I shall give you some brief interim information about the book and it's author. I read from the introduction of the prescribed book; 'Lewis Carroll was the pen name of mathematics lecturer Charles Dodgson when writing his nonsense poems and books. He was born 27th January 1832 and was educated at Richmond School, Rugby School and Christ Church, Oxford where he taught mathematics for 26 years until 1881.
His best-known book is Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, which he wrote especially to amuse the daughter of the Dean of Christ Church. Her name was Alice Pleasance Liddell. The book was first published in 1865 and has since become one of the most famous and best loved children stories ever written.
As the teacher talked on enthusiastically about the book, John wondered about the girl next to him, Natasha, she sure was pretty. Next to her on her left, was seated an equally pretty girl, maybe even prettier, called Amanda. Yes he was going to enjoy English this year, all right. He again focused his attention on the teachers closing speech as she ended her reading from the book.
"It is sure to delight all children reading about Alice's Adventures for the first time. She closed the book but continued her discussion. "I might add that it is not only entertaining reading for children, but also for older children, like yourself, or even for adults, like myself. The way Lewis Carroll uses the English language in his 'Alice' books, is unsurpassed in modern literature, and academics continue to seek new meaning in his apparently nonsense verse and dialogue. I am confident that you will enjoy this book this year, and would recommend you all the read the book which follows it called; 'Alice's Adventures though the looking glass'.
The teacher concluded her speech as the bell rung to signal the end of the period. At least English promised to be interesting this year, John thought to himself as he headed of for gym class with the rest of the boys.
John went around all the bookstores large and small, but could find no copy of the prescribed book because everywhere he tried, it was sold out. He asked around at friends and family, but no one had an old copy of the book.
During the English class the following day, all the children had copies of the prescribed book. All, except John.
"I went to all the book stores all over town, Mrs. Pretorius, but the 'Alice in Wonderland' books were all sold out, he told her.
"Did you ask friends and family for an old copy of the book? the teacher asked.
"I did Madam, he said.
"Don't call me madam, I don't run a brothel. She said and then asked the class "Does anyone here, or anyone you know, have an old copy of 'Alice in Wonderland' for young Mr. Britz to borrow?
No one put their hands for a while, but eventually the hand of Natasha went up next to him. She looked at him with a friendly smile and then back the teacher.
"I do, Mrs. Pretorius, I have an old copy at home, she said.
"Well please bring it along tomorrow so that Mr. Britz is not left behind, said the teacher, and then resumed her class.
She read the first chapter; 'down the rabbit hole', that day. It was about Alice falling down a deep and endless well after having followed a rabbit down its hole. She then soon found herself in a long hall lined with doors on either side. She found a small door behind a curtain, and found its key on a glass table nearby. She finds a bottle on it from which she drinks, and then shrinks. Before she had shrunk altogether she found some cake underneath the table, which she ate, and which made her grow very tall in the opposite direction.
In the beginning of the second chapter she sits crying in frustration, where after she is soon found shrinking again and lands up in a large pool of her own tears, with various small creatures such as birds and a mouse.
They had what is called a Caucus-race, to try and dry them selves off, where after they heard the mouse's tale, which the teacher informed them was a well known, and remarkable, piece of literature. That was the end of chapter three, and also the end of the lesson for the day.
The bell rung shrilly close by, and the class was dismissed as the children rushed out of the door to form a tidy queue outside.
The next day Natasha gave him the book outside class as they waited to enter. He took it and said "Thanks. At least he could now follow the story from the book.
The book was small, red and tattered. Nothing like the colorfully illustrated books of the other children. But he did not mind, at least he had a copy. It was printed by W. Foulsham & Co. LTD. of London, but it had no date of print. It looked very old though, maybe from somewhere around the last Great War. It had a few small black and white illustrations by Gil Dyer. It was still in good condition.
"Did you get a copy of the book, Mr. Britz? the teacher asked.
"Yes, thank you Mrs. Pretoruis. He said and smiled at Natasha.
"Good, then let us carry on where we left of yesterday, chapter four¦. Said the teacher as she carried on with the lesson.
When she got to chapter five 'advice from a caterpillar', the boys were absolutely delighted with the caterpillar on the mushroom, smoking his hookah and departing wise advice. The teacher had to subdue their raucous laughter.
The teacher went on with reading and discussing the book at length throughout the year. The children liked the Cheshire cat very much and he was discussed at length. So was the mad tea party, and the hatter, March hare and dormouse. 'The mad tea party' was probably the children's favorite chapter, and over all the book was a huge success. Because the children took an interest in it, they almost all did fairly well at English that year
John read the book over and over; he was completely taken by it. After school he played rugby as a sport, and then went home. On Friday evenings he went to the roller rink of the Church, and watched the other kids go round on their skates. He did not skate himself, but skateboarded. He just came here to check out the girls.
Specifically, Natasha. He watched as she went round hand in hand with other boys and girls, gliding in circles with their skates on the rink. When she took a break he would go to where she was and they would talk.
They spoke mostly about school, and the book they were reading in English class. Like all the other kids they both loved it. John became very attracted to Natasha with her short, light brown hair, and deep brown eyes.
One Friday night at the roller rink as they were talking, he asked, "Natasha, would you be my girl?, and she said, "Yes. He was the happiest boy alive. Although they were too young to get intimate, they did kiss and cuddle frequently and became very close.
The year drew to a close, and they both passed English well, and each missed the other over the holidays, because he stayed home and she went down to the Cape west coast with her family, to a place called 'Witsand'.
They loved each other, and he missed her presence while she was away, and down by the coast she longed to have him by her side. He kept the book she had given him, and whenever he missed her, he would look at it, and that would make him feel better.
And he did miss her, because he loved her. He loved her like the sea loves the moon, or the wind loves the water, he loved her endlessly.
He would think of her light brown hair, with the long fringe hanging over her dark brown eyes. The way she laughed naturally, and her beautiful smile. He was in love with her, and even at this youthful age, he knew he would never love another woman like this again.
He listened to music in his room, while he was alone, and she was away. One of his favorite songs was 'Muddy Waters' by Via Con Dios. He liked listening to it over and over, thinking about himself and Natasha.
He wondered when the time would be right for them to get intimate, and blushed to himself as he thought about this. It was sure to be great whenever it happened, everything she did turned him one. Every small imperceptible movement of her head, every tiny nuance in her speech.
And he could never, ever get enough of her beautiful deep, rich brown eyes. He lay back on his bed and listened as Dani Klein took his emotions higher with her pure, strong and true voice. He almost loved Dani as much as Natasha, he thought to himself.
No this was not true, he corrected himself, there was only one girl for him; and that was, Natasha.
And while Natasha lay on the perfectly white beach 'Witsand', her thoughts was with her love back home, as her girlfriend drooled over the young lifeguards.
They hardly interested Natasha, she was too preoccupied with thinking about John. Sure, these sunburned, blond boys were handsome and physically appealing, but John had something, some quality, which was rare in people. He had the power of great passion that kept her spellbound, especially seeing as his passion was herself.
She sensed many good qualities in him, as they had spent time together in the English class during the year, as well as the roller rink on Friday nights. She found few really bad characteristics in him, except for maybe a bit of a short fuse, sometimes. But the way he loved her was what said it all to her. When he kissed her it was warm and true, as if he never wished to be separated from her.
Yes, she knew for certain that he loved her, and she knew also that she loved him in return. Theirs was a perfect match, she smiled to herself, as her girlfriend said;
"Oh, look there's that shorty one with the light blond hair! Look!
"Ag man, he's got nothing on John, Natasha responded.
A short playful argument ensued, which was soon decided in Natasha's favor. Still, they kept looking at the blond haired boys playing in the surf, and laughed at one another as girls are apt to do.
Chapter Two.
Early the next year his father got transferred to Lydenburg, out in the Eastern Tranvaal. He was with the Department of Water Affairs, and was sent out there to do research on the impact of invader species on the water supplies of the mountain streams. The whole family moved with him.
There were only four of them; himself, his brother Joe, his mom and his dad. He said goodbye to Natasha and they promised they would write to each other. "I'll come through and see you soon, too, he promised her.
"How will you do that? You have no car? she asked.
"Oh, I'll come through, you'll see, he said, and knew that he would. He would do anything to be close to her.
The removal truck took the contents of their house to Lydenburg, and they followed in he family car. Lydenburg was at least situated in a beautiful place, and that gave John some small compensation.
There were plenty of things to do, such as mountaineering and trout fishing. He kept on playing rugby at his new school, and soon made a few friends. But he remained loyal to his girl, and did not bother trying to find other dates in this new town.
On Friday nights he would go to the small local cinema down on Main Street with a buddy or two, and watch the double feature. In the afternoons, and on weekends, him and his friends would go fishing in the river close to his house. Occasionally they would play a game of rugby against the school of a nearby town.
Life was laidback and relaxed out here in the sticks, and he soon became accustomed to it. His one friend; Fred, had parents who owned a farm in the Waterfall river pass, and some weekends he would go and stay out there with them. He loved the farm and the beautiful valley in which it lay, surrounded on all sides by majestic mountains.
Early in the morning a rooster would crow nearby, soon followed by others in he distance. Then one would hear the cowherds taking out the cattle, with the bells jangling about their necks. In the late afternoon one could hear them returning in the same way.
The boys would climb the steep mountainsides, and play in the stone ruins of the ancients. Or they would venture up the river gorge to the waterfalls, and swim in the clear mountain pools. Yes, being on the farm almost made up for being away from Natasha. Almost, but not quite.
Boy, he sure missed her. He which they hade made love before he left, just once. He wished he could have nearby to tell her how much he loved and ached for her. He just wanted to have nearby, and hold her close to him. He loved her, yes, he knew he loved her.
And as he lay on a bunk in a out room of the grand old farm house, he wondered if she was still thinking of him and holding on to their love.
She was thinking about him all the time. Would he be true her, would he be true to their love. She smiled, she trusted him, she did not think he would fool around, after all, they really did love one another.
Her life went on much as usual, she attended the same school, and played the same sport she used to; hockey. She took French, Latin and Art, and wanted to become either an artist or a writer; specifically a journalist. She new this last option was the most realistic one, as few people managed to make money from art.
She saw that her English was always up to scratch, and as a result, excelled in this medium. Her best friend was called Martha van Zyl, and the two of them went down to Centurion Mall on weekends to watch motion pictures, and drink milkshakes, and maybe have a bite to eat. They were seldom allowed to go to Hatfield, as the place had a bad reputation among their parents. It was well known that all manner of drugs was available here, as it is in the city center. So she and Martha only occasionally went to the flea market there on Sundays. Besides, she hated those Eastern suburb yuppies that one found hanging out in droves there. All sent to the rich white university nearby, which only parents like theirs were able to afford, and whose courses most of them were set to fail in any case.
No, she would rather hang out at either her or Martha's house, and watch videos and listen to music. She and Martha were very good friends, and Martha traded in her old boyfriends for new ones, on a regular basis. As a result there was frequently some loser around in their presence, which only made her miss John more.
Martha was quite jealous of her long and steady relationship with John, and told her so several occasions. She in turned was never really attracted to any of Martha's boyfriends, and she never hit it off with any of them. She was waiting patiently for the day John would return, as he said he would, and then she was ultimately looking forward to the day they would be together forever at last.
She was going to go and study journalism at UCT in Cape Town when she finished school. She wondered if he would want to study after school. He never really spoke about it, maybe they could go and study together, and share lodgings. Her parents would die. She smiled.
Martha was giving some fool mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on the couch next to her. She nudged her in the ribs to make space, as she was being cramped by the two teenage lovers.
They corresponded regularly and loved each other's letters, and writing styles. He wrote more frequently than her, and waited sometimes or a few weeks before getting a reply from her, but she always wrote back in the end.
He would take the classical dark brown envelopes her letters came in and hold it to his nose, to smell the feint trace of her and her perfume. He would then savor the smell for a long time before opening the letter. He would then first stroke the soft white paper and fell its silken touch for a while, before reading the content. Her handwriting was lovely beyond compare.
She told him about school and her plans thereafter. Sometimes she would tell him about things she and Martha had been up to, and he always smiled when he read these. She was doing learner-driving classes and found it a bit difficult, this made him smile some more.
He phoned her once a week when the letters weren't enough to keep him from longing for her.
"What's Lydenburg like, and the people there? she asked him once.
"Well, you know the part where the Cheshire cat says to Alice; 'we're all mad here. I'm mad. Your mad'? Well Lydenburg is a bit like that, he said.
"Sounds a lot like Pretoria, or just about any other place in this world, she said.
He said "Yeah. And laughed at her joke.
And at the end of each week he would sit and wait for her letter, and sometimes he was disappointed. But when it came at last he was not disappointed at all, on the contrary, on those afternoons he was the luckiest and happiest boy alive.
When the midterm break came he would hike though to see her. He told his parents he was going by train. But he was going only as far Middelburg by rail, and would hike the other half of the journey.
The return journey he would not take the train at all, but would do the entire trip on his heels and his thumb.
Chapter Three.
He was going on the trip with Fred, and they would stay at an old friend of John, whose parents had a house in Irene.
Fred's mom dropped them off at Lydenburg station in the early evening one day during their mid year break. They were both in high spirit at the prospect of the adventure, which lay before them. They soon found the platform that the train they were going to take was on, and it was not long before they found their coach. They traveled second class so that they would be able to smoke.
It was well dark by eight o' clock when the train pulled out of the station. They made friends with the two older chaps that were sharing their compartment; their names were Bob and Roy. The boys told them about their planned adventure, and the mission, which was John's love.
The train rolled on through the night, and a vendor came round offering refreshments and drink. The boys each had a few beers with the older men, and then lay down on the two top bunks to sleep. At about eleven they were awakened by the older men, and told that they had arrived at Middelburg station.
As it was late in the night, there was not much traffic passing on the onramp to the highway. They tried their luck for another two hours, thumbing the approaching traffic, but found no takers. Then they walked to a nearby park surrounded by veldt, a stopping place for motorist to have a snack and a rest. Here they made camp under a small torn tree in one corner, and soon they would both fall asleep.
As John took out his sleeping bag, his hand felt the small Bible, which he had brought with, as well as the copy of 'Alice in Wonderland', which Natasha had given him. Holding it in his hands under the pale light of the moon and the stars, he thought of her, and smiled. He loved her so.
The Southern Cross shone brightly in the southern sky, as he crawled in for a few hours sleep before, dawn came. Soon he was dreaming sweet dreams of Natasha, despite the hard ground that he lay on.
The next morning they woke with a start as a big truck roared past them. They were lying closer to the road than they had estimated in the darkness.
There were only a few meters, which separated them from the road, with a rickety fence in between. They packed their kit, had a bite to eat, a smoke, and then crossed the fence and stood next to the road. They got a lift soon after they had started hitching. Two drunken men about ten years older than themselves. Still they were happy with the lift, as a few hours next to the roadside can make one. They jumped in and were soon introduced to the occupants of the car; Jan and Koos.
Jan and Koos were pissed on Klipdrift brandy and coke, and in the background blared the music which revealed the era of their origin, Bruce Springsteen; Born in the USA. The song was at the point where uncle Sam was putting a gun in Bruce's hand, and sending him off to go and kill the yellow man, when Koos, the passenger, put a tumbler of brandy and coke in each of the youngsters hands. Which they accepted with reluctance, which was soon dispatched by Koos's command "Drink!.
The car sped off at phenomenal speed down the straight black highway, with Jan behind the wheel, peddaling the juice. It was not long before Bruce Springsteen 'rocked', and the brandy started to taste good. As the car sped on Koos raised a toast to Jan. "To the war! he said. "To the war, damn it was a good one, was Koos's response, then he added for the benefit of the youngsters in the back, "Back in Nam, we didn't give a damn!
And the youngsters laughed as the red car cruised on the black stretch of tar, down the hill.
They arrived at the Irene/Lyttelton turn off just before Pretoria, and Jan and Koos dropped them off here. John and Fred quickly walked the three kilometers from there to his friends place in Queen Street. His friends name was Hugo, but they called him Gig
The first thing John did once he had settled in his friends out room, was to contact Natasha and make a date. They would meet tonight at eight down by the waterfront. He could hardly wait. He showered, shaved and brushed his teeth. Then he put on some of Gig's expensive aftershave, and he was set for the evening.
She spotted him soon at the steps near the fountain where he said he would be, in a red T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, wearing the freakish set of John Lennon shades she had ever seen.
She wore a lovely short white dress, with red hearts all over. She looked so beautiful, for a moment he felt like crying. They embraced and kissed on the steps by the blue fountain, and he hugged her tightly to him, with the joy of their reunion.
They went to watch a movie, and it was 'Nothing to lose' which made them laugh, as it was quite funny. Then they went to have a milkshake and pizza at Milanese, and sat and watched the beautiful colors of the water fountain as it sprayed its fountains to the music.
As the fountain spurted and danced in dark red glory she said; "I love you.
"And I love you, said John.
"Have you still got the book? she asked.
"Yes, I will always carry it with me, he replied.
They embraced as they sat on the steps of the amphitheatre and watched the fountain. They kissed again.
For the rest of the holidays they were inseparable, he was always over out her house, or they were out someplace. And still they did not get intimate enough to have sexual relations, they both wanted to wait. The days passed in the bliss of their youthful love.
Soon he and Fred were on the Botha Avenue on ramp to the N1-north, hitch hiking back to Lydenburg. As he was standing there his heart was already aching for Natasha.
They started hiking early in the morning, at about seven o' clock. The early morning peak hour traffic was picking up, and soon the highway lanes were filled to capacity with cars and trucks.
A large eighteen-wheeler truck pulled over on to the side of the road for them. It was an International 5000. The boys clambered up the steeps steps and climb into the cab. The driver was a short, thick set, gray haired man. He was probably in his late forties or early fifties. He introduced himself as Peter. The boys introduced themselves in return, and told the truck driver where they were headed.
"Lydenburg hey? Well I can take you boys as far Belfast, where I will be dropping my load at the station, said Peter.
"Thanks very much, the boys responded.
They asked what freight he was hauling; he something about 'pulp', but the boys didn't quite catch what he had said, and not wanting to appear ignorant, made as if they did by nodding their heads, as if in understanding of what he was talking about.
He handed them over a large plastic liter bottle of fresh milk, which they guzzled down eagerly. "I keep liters of that stuff with me in the truck. It keeps me going, said Peter. Then he asked them about their trip and stay in Pretoria. John told him of Natasha, and how much she meant to him, upon which both Peter and Fred gave him some playful verbal hassle. He just laughed with them at their lewd jokes about him and his girl. It never became too personal, so he could laugh along.
They turned East on the Witbank highway, and were soon passing through Bronkhorstspruit. The huge truck rolled majestically over the smooth tar surface. Beautiful African veldt and lush green farms dotted the roadside. It was a splendid view from the height of the trucks cab.
The eighteen big wheels of the International rolled smoothly over the road surface, as the man and the boys talked inside it and listened to the music on the radio. He also had a CB rig in the cab, which truck drivers used to warn each other of traffic cops. CB slang for traffic cops was 'bandits'. He would call up other truck drivers and ask if there was any 'bandits' on the road he was traveling. If the response was that there was not, he knew the road was open, and he could put his pedal to the metal.
As the road was apparently clear ahead of bandits after Witbank, he did just that, and soon the truck cruised onward down the highway a great speed. The mighty engine purred like a cat, and the tires kissed the road, as they sped on into the morning. The sun shone brightly ahead of them as it climbed higher in the east.
By half passed ten they passed through Middleburg, and on the other side of town, Peter again gave the International juice, and it rolled on. At half past eleven they were in Belfast. Peter stopped the truck near the railway yard, and the boys got off and thanked him.
"It's a pleasure you guys, I can remember when I was young, and hiked through to a girlfriend a few times. You boys take care now, and be careful, this can be a dangerous country.
They thanked him again and then walked the lengthy distance through town to go and hike on the other side of it. When they reached the outskirts of Belfast, they sat down under a big old willow tree by the road, and started hiking.
It was not long before an Asian man pulled up in an old jalopy of a pick-up. It had chicken cages on top of its canopy, all filled with clucking chickens. The inside of the canopy was equally stacked with chickens, which were also happily clucking away.
They jumped in and the guy introduced himself as Rodney from Durban. This promised to be an interesting final stretch to their journey.
Rodney gunned the old jalopy down the steep passes, and it was a hair-raising experience for both boys as the rickety pick up tumbled down the road, with the chickens ceckling in the back.
Bob Marley was singing 'no woman no cry' on the old car radio in the dash. It was not long before Rodney produced a large joint.
"The best Durban poison. He proclaimed proudly and then asked, "You guys feel like some?
"Sure. Both boys replied simultaneously, eager to try the experiment.
Rodney lit the joint with his Zippo lighter, and soon it did the rounds. Each boy smoked more than his fair share, and Rodney had not lied, it was a-grade stuff. They were flying high, as the old jalopy rattled down the steep pass. They laughed and joked with Rodney, and were only vaguely aware that the journey was taking much longer than it should, because of the ancient rickety car, and its stoned driver.
It was just before four o' clock that the bizarre journey came to an end, as they arrived in Lydenburg. They turned left at the t-junction outside town and soon they were on the outskirts where Rodney dropped them. They walked the short distance home, saying their goodbyes in front of John's home, they were still both well and truly stoned.
His father was home early from work, and noticed immediately that he was stoned. A heavy argument ensued.
"How can you enter my house stoned! demanded the father.
"Hey dad, chill, it was only a small joint. He lied.
"If ever come into my house stoned again you are out on the street, do you understand, threatened the father.
He knew better than to argue and jus said, "Yes dad.
"Now go to your room, and don't come out till you have sobered up! said his father.
"Yes dad. He said, and did as he was told.
In his room he put on the radio and listened to the late afternoon news. He was only vaguely aware of the news of carnage and killing in the background, as he was busy thinking of the trip they had undertaken. It had all been worth it, even the fight with his father. It had been worth it all just to see Natasha.
How he loved her, more than ever.
And he kept on loving and longing for her, through the year, and the one that followed. He did not get an opportunity to see her again, and now they were both in their final year of school.
They remained loyal to one another's love, and never did the one betray the other's trust. They kept in touch by mail, and he phoned her religiously once a week. They sent one another birthday and Christmas cards, and they also exchanged a few photos by post. Their love never dwindled.
He did matric in Lydenburg, and she did matric in Centurion. They both passed, and where he did average, she did extremely well in her studies. He knew she wanted to study, and he would probably not, that meant they would probably be apart a while longer. Yet they both hoped that they could ultimately be together
During their final holidays she went down to Witsand with her folks as they did every year, and he went down to the Natal south coast with his grandparents for the December They telephoned one another frequently from their respective holiday destinations, and told one another he much they wished they could be together.
"One day we will be together. He told over the phone one night.
"But we've been apart so long? Do you really think we will find one another again?
"We'll be together one day, I promise. He said.
His matric holiday was enjoyable, even though he missed Natasha immensely.
He made friends with a Zulu boy his age, and went to play football with him and his friends on a nearby field. It was a rough and uneven homemade pitch, and the goals were roughly made from wooden poles. It was tough games as only football on an African field, and with Africans can be. They play hard, and one has to play hard in return.
Still, it was good fun, and the game was especially enjoyable if they had had a joint beforehand. He loved the feeling of being stoned and running after the ball, virtually the entire day, without tiring. And what made it even more fun was that he himself managed to score a goal occasionally. He loved the feeling of power and completion he felt when he ball flew through the posts.
He was a good runner, and comprehended passing tactics well. In short, he was a good ball player, and that is why he enjoyed football. It was memorable summer days, chasing the dirty white ball over the rough, lush green field. It was a feeling he would never forget.
He met an old man out on the rocks one day, who was busy fishing. They got to talking, and he told the man he had just finished school. The old man asked him what he was going to do now that his schooling was complete. He said he would have to find a job. The older man took a liking to the younger one as they spoke there on the rocks.
"Why don't you come and work for me, the man said, "I have re-roofing firm here on the south coast, and I have an out room you can rent cheaply.
"Thanks, that sounds great. Said John as he took the old man's card.
"Let me know when you are coming down, and we will have a job ready for you. said the man. His name was Ian McDonald.
That night John told his grandparents of the job offer, and told them he would be taking it up. They were delighted, and said that it would be nice having him nearby.
He went back home after the holidays the way he had come, and would be coming back down again; by bus. At home he made the final arrangements with his parents, and then headed for the coast, and freedom. He only had two large bags, which contained his clothes, and a few odd books.
The most prized of these was the copy of 'Alice in Wonderland' which Natasha had given him, and which he close, because it reminded him of her.
Chapter Four.
The re-roofing game was hard, but I had its perks, at least you always had a splendid view of the surroundings, and being at the coast, this meant the sea.
He would sit on the rooftop and stare out over the mighty deep blue ocean, and watch as the waves broke on the beaches and the rocks. McDonald was a hard boss who extracted his pound of flesh daily from his workers. He had four teams, which meant that he had four pick-ups each with its own crew of workers.
John drove the pick-up of one of these crews; it was a small white Nissan fourteen hundred. He mostly did the smaller jobs in the beginning, such as replacing old gutters and facia boards. Gradually, however, he was brought into the bigger contracts where the entire roof was stripped, and replaced with a new one.
He had a small rondavel that he rented from McDonald, and which was situated at the back of his large property close to the river. Being at the bottom of the property, John's rondavel was very close to the water. He would sit on his small porch and watch the beautiful green river flow peacefully by, as he smoked a joint. He had started smoking regularly since he had moved down to the South Coast. Smoking grass relaxed him during his off hours, and gave him energy to work while he was at the job.
Sometimes he would go down to the local pub called 'the coconut palm', and have a few beers, especially on weekends when they sometimes had a live band. It was here he met Natalie who was eighteen, and a year younger than him. She was short, with long dark red hair. They were both immediately attracted to one another, and soon hit it off. They went everywhere together, and became quite close. Her parents stayed in Glenmore, while his lodgings was across the river, in Munster.
She spent many days and nights with him in his rondavel, where they smoked grass, and made love. They made love with the passion, intensity and frequency of young people in their first serious relationship, and he never thought sex could be this good. It was. He was falling head over heels in love with Natalie and he did not know how he was going to break the news to Natasha.
He lay back on his bed with the red haired girl in his arms as he thought about this, and blew out smoke from the joint through his nostrils.
She was adapting well to University and campus life. She lodged in a commune close by, and soon made friends.
The commune was in an old house, and it was inhabited by both male and female students. Actually there were just two girls in the house, herself and a girl called Grace, who was a colored. The two of them became great friends. Then there were three males lodgers. The two Afrikaans boys that shared a room was called Johan and Koos, and they were hardly ever around, as they were out at parties all the time, spending their parents hard earned money.
The third male lodger was also the one who was officially in charge of running the house. He was Jewish boy called Cecil Rabinovic, and his father was a wealthy accountant. That was one of the first things that attracted Natasha to him. She also found his phylactery quite cute, and he had such sweet dimples when he smiled. Yes, she liked him a lot, and she could tell he liked her. That was quite plain to everyone from the start.
He also did not wait for the grass to grow under his feet, and on the first weekend of her settling in the house, the two of them were already going out on a date. After a month they had a steady relationship going, and they also became intimate.
She lost her virginity to him on the sandy beach of Clifton, one early summer evening as they lay beneath the stars. He took her gently, because he knew it was her first time, and soon they were making love on a frequent basis back at he commune. She moved into his room, which was the biggest in the house, being the old master bedroom. They spent all their free time together and fell deeply in love.
Yet, she still had such strong feelings for John, how was she going to break the news to him. She new she had a responsibility towards him to tell him the truth. She was in love with someone else.
John received her letter in the same classical brown envelopes, which she always used. He smelt it and let her fragrance linger in his nostrils, as he always did, before opening it.
He read it slowly, he read it again. He was not sure whether he understood her correctly, he wished he didn't, but he did. She had met someone else, a Jew boy named Cecil. She still loved him, but they had been apart to long. She could not wait any longer, she hoped he understood. She hoped he would keep writing. She was sorry.
He thought about it a while, and did understand. She was young and beautiful, she needed to be with someone. He could not be there. She still loved him, but now thing had changed. She had met someone else. He knew how he still felt about her. He loved her as he always did, and always would. He loved her.
But he had Natalie, and they were happy together. She was just as pretty, and almost as smart as Natasha. And she was crazy about him, anyone could tell you that. They were a great couple. Yes, he and Natalie were happy together, very happy, but sometimes he would lie back stoned on his bed in his rondavel, ad wish there would someday be some way that he and Natasha could be together.
He still loved her more than anyone else, and always would.
When she received his letter she was happy. When she had opened it and read it she was not. She felt lying crying, so she did a bit.
John had met some cheap little South Coast slut while he was staying there, and had fallen for her. How could he be so stupid. Just because she met some one nice, it did not mean he could go and hook up with some little bimbo. Natasha's sadness slowly turned to anger.
It was all lies, she thought to her self. The book, the years of romance, the promise that they would ultimately be together, it was all lies. How could she be so stupid? He was just like all other men. If she had not told him about Cecil, how long would he have remained silent about this Natalie bimbo. He probably never would have said a word. He would just have kept it his little secret.
She would never trust him again, and she would write to him no more. He could go and rot. He had hurt her and betrayed her feelings. He would wait and wait, but he would not hear of her, Natasha Booysen, again.
And if he should phone, they would just tell him, she was out with Cecil.
He waited in vain for her letter. It never came. He wrote to her a few more times to reply to his letters, but she never did. Eventually he gave up, and stopped writing himself.
To make matters worse, he and Natalie broke up after she hit it off with some surfer. After her brief romance with the surfer, she wanted to come back to John and rekindle their relationship, but with the loss of Natasha he was not in the mood to do so. He quickly showed her the door when she came round one evening. He was sad at first when he Natalie broke up, but once it was over and done with, his only true regret was losing the love of Natasha.
He missed her more and more with the passing of each day. He daydreamed frequently about the days of their young love together. How he now wished that they had indeed made love back then. Maybe then things would be different. Maybe then they would still be together. Maybe it would have brought them closer. He did not know. But, oh, how he missed her and how he loved her.
He wished that he could just receive letters from her again, and write to her in return. How he longed to get one of those familiar brown envelopes in the post. To touch its silken surface, and smell the feint trace of her perfume.
If he would ever hear from her again he did not know, but he hoped he would, he dreamed that he would, some day.
Natasha was happy in Cape Town. She was doing well at her studies, and was content in her relationship with Cecil. They were getting along fine.
On weekends they would go down to the waterfront, and party till the early morning hours. Monday it was back to class, and studies. She and Cecil made love almost every night, but she took care not to fall pregnant. She did not want to get married and have children until after she had obtained her degree. She did not fancy walking around pregnant on campus like some girls.
Her studies were going well, even though it was only her first year, and she foresaw no difficulty in completing the course. Yes, her life was going well. In a few years she would have a qualification and a good relationship, and after that, who knows, maybe a job and a career. Things were definitely looking up in her life. She had no complaints.
It was marvelous to live in the mother city, surrounded on all sides by the sea. The people were friendly and laid back, much more so than back in Gauteng. The pace here was considerably slowed down. She was pursuing the life, which she had dreamed of, and she was happy.
But, every now and then she would think of John, and the old days, and she would miss him.
Chapter Five.
John kept on working for McDonald at the re-roofing firm. It was hard work, but it had its perks. The money was not too bad, and the work was enjoyable. And there was always the splendid view from his high vantage point where he worked.
McDonald was a hard boss, expecting peak production, as well as expert workmanship, from his crews. Yet, despite his hard-line when it came to work, and his taciturn demeanor, he was a fair boss, who treated and paid his workers fairly. He had been in the construction part of the business himself for most of his life, and had only recently retired to the office to run his business from there.
McDonald had a red haired wife to whom he had been married his entire adult life. They had two daughters who had small children of their own. They were in their early thirties. The one was married, the other divorced. They both stayed in Glenmore, on separate properties. The daughter who was divorced was called Cindy, and resembled a supermodel in looks and physical build. She was frequently making passes at young John when the two were in each other's proximity.
John found the prospect tempting, but knew better than to get involved with the boss's daughter. Whenever she would flirt with him, he would just casually look her over, and then move off somewhere else, where it was safer.
He traveled up and down the South Coast with his work, and mostly frequented the larger towns such as Port Edward, Margate and Scotburgh. Sometimes he would go into the Transkei for a country job, and in this way he saw much of that beautiful province. One had to be careful when driving there because the road was bad, but also, the minibus drivers were often reckless, and one had to keep an eye out for stray goats and cattle on the road.
Still, the Transkei trips were always the best, and here he could manage to replenish his supply of grass cheaply, and in great quantity. He sat one day on the roof of a large house in Port St. Johns, which belonged to a rich local resident, and smoked a joint. The house was on the road next to the cliff face, just out of town. From up here he had a splendid view of the ocean beyond the drop of the cliff.
It was deep blue and vast in expanse. The waves were large and wild here and crashed with fury and intent upon the rocks below. That is one of the reasons why this was called 'the wild coast'. There was no greater joy than being this high up and looking down upon one of the most spectacular miracles of nature. And being stoned, he could appreciate the beauty and splendor all the more. It was the peak of existence.
That is why he kept at this job. There was no substitute for the illusion of freedom, which it offered. He stayed in his rondawel on McDonalds property in Munster, and kept on working for him, they were both happy with the arrangement.
He stayed in the rondawel and listened to music on his small radio/cd player. He would relax after work with a joint, and listen to whatever music he happened to be in the mood for at that time. Then he would go and sit outside under his favorite tree, and savor the last rays of golden sunlight as it washed over the green waters of the river.
The river flowed by silently, and in the background, not far away, the mighty surf roared on the beach. The roar and crash of the ocean was an ever-present sound, this close to the sea. It was a mighty mantra which nature, here by the coast, never stopped humming. He would just sit back in his high state of mind, with his back to the tree, and listen to the mighty orchestra of nature.
The surf roaring close by, the birds flying and calling in the air, and the wind whispering through the leaves, blowing them gently down to the ground, and over the water. The quiet green water snaking silently by him, as the years of his youth flowed with it. As his life and his love flowed down to the ocean, just like this green river, as his loved flowed into the ocean, which was Natasha.
Yes, he still loved her and he always would, and how he missed her. Not a day would go by that would not sit outside his room, by the quiet waters, and think of her. Was she happy? How were her studies going? Was she still hooked up with the Jew-boy? Did she ever think of him? Did she ever think of them, together?
He shook himself from his reverie, and sadly picked up his rod where it was leaning against the wall. He picked up the tackle box, which was lying next to it, and then his feet took to the well-trodden footpath, which led down to the beach and the rocks.
Fishing took his mind of work and Natasha. He loved it in the dark down on the beach, under the pale glow of the moon and stars. With the waves breaking hard on the surf, he would cast out his line, and try his luck.
Mostly he caught with bait, and hook and sinkers. Only when the shad was running would he go spinning with a spoon. Tonight he would be using the usual bait; pilchards. They would be woven to the hook with a piece of thin elastic string, bought specifically for this purpose.
He cast out with the Penn 500 reel on the long sea rod, and the line wound smoothly, and at great speed, off the spool. The weight of the sinker and bait pulled the line out in a smooth arc over the waves, and plopped it down a short distance behind them. As the sinker and bait struck the water, John put his thumb on the spool of the reel to stop it spinning, and to prevent an over wind.
He reeled in the line a bit, to get some tension on it, and then he waited. He wondered if he would be lucky tonight. He had caught some nice fish out here these last few months, but many a night went passed without him catching anything. Tonight could well be one of those nights, he reflected to himself.
He stood there ankle high in the water for a long time, as the last line of small breakers broke around him. The stars were out in brilliance now, because it was late, and the moon shone brightly overhead. The wind blew hard on him, and the night was filled with millions of night noises from the bushes alongside the beach. Here and there the light of a beach house shone in the darkness, and the point out at Glenmore was lit up by the lights of the houses and the hotel.
The hours passed and somewhere late in the night, two elderly Asian fishermen, walked by passed him on the beach behind. He knew them and where they were going; there favorite spot kilometers north of here. The one was called Nintji and the other Sam. He greeted them cordially as they always did.
"Evening Nintji, evening Sam, out to try your luck again tonight?, he asked them as they walked by.
"Evening youngster, no luck involved in it if you know what you are doing, Nintji replied.
"Well then I sure as hell don't know what I am doing, said John "because I'm having no luck.
The older men laughed, and then Nintji added before they walked on, "Well goodnight, and good luck.
John smiled to himself, Nintji wasn't just blowing hot air, those two old gents always came away with a good nights catch. They new the area, and the best fishing spots and times. No, if they came fishing this late at night, you could be sure they would not be walking away disappointed in the morning.
He would try a bit longer and see if his luck was not bound to change. The sea roared on in the darkness, and the wind blew over the beach and water, as the lights twinkled faintly in the distance above and around him in the night.
Love came and went over the years, but he never found another one like Natasha. She was the only woman he really wanted to be with, and spent his life with. The others just came and went with out any lasting importance.
He met girls at the local pub 'the coconut palm' and started relationships with some of them on and off over the years. Then there were always the holidaymakers over December and Easter holidays, where he could pick up a pretty girl for a short romance, or even a one-night stand. He tried a few of these, but soon found that he preferred longer-term relationships more.
So he would meet one of the local girls during the off-season, in the pub, when it was relatively quiet. He would start a relationship with the young woman, and he always vaguely hoped that it might turn into something enduring. At times it did seem to. He would be happy in the relationship with the girl for a few months, but something always ultimately happened that would drive them apart.
He would find someone else, or the girl would find someone else. Or one of them may just realize that they are not happy in their relationship any more, and move on. It always seemed to happen that way, he would meet a nice girl, they would be happy together for a while, and then they would slowly move apart.
Eventually he started to give up hope on these frequent, and unstable, relationships. He started spending more time on his own in his room, or down at the rocks fishing. During the day his work would keep him occupied, from early in the morning, till very late in the afternoons. He gave up on seeking a replacement for the love that he felt for Natasha.
He knew that he would always love her, and no other, the way a man was truly meant to love a woman. Seeking solace in some strange woman's bed, was not a solution, he slowly realized. Sure, everyone craved contact and sexual intercourse, but the effort of a relationship was not worth the emotional baggage it created, if the one person did not truly love the other.
As time passed he became accustomed to his loneliness, or at least told himself that he did. He came to enjoy being on his own by the river, sitting slightly stoned in the shade of a tree, and watch the last rays of golden sunlight wash over the quiet green water.
As the years passed his longing for Natasha grew greatly. He missed her more and more as time progressed. He longed for her worried about her. Was she happy with Cecil, or was she longing for him as he was for her.
He thought about her a lot, almost all the time. And when he was not thinking of her in particular, she was always somewhere in the back of his mind, lingering in his subconscious. He long for her so much that it felt sometimes as if he would lose his mind. Why had she stopped writing? Had she matured so greatly at University, and in cultural mother city, that she no longer cared for him, or needed him? Did she ever still think of him? He began to have his doubts, if she did care for him, why did she break contact so abruptly and so cruelly? No, she cared for him no longer.
She had moved on in life to greater things, and had left him behind for dead. She had forsaken their love. She had moved on. And now it was time for him to move on, or he would lose the grasp of his mental faculties. He had to move on and put Natasha and their childhood love behind him. He would burn her old letters, and forget about her.
He took the letters from the small cardboard box in which he had kept them so carefully, for so long. He read them each one a final time, and as he read them he wept. He wept for their lost dreams, and broken love. He smelled the perfumed fragrance on the envelopes for a last time, as it still lingered faintly on the brown paper.
Then he burnt them one by one on a small paper fire that he made from the letters in his hearth outside his room. As he watched their love burn he cried without control, because his hopes and ambitions of eternal love, was being devoured by the flames, as the hate inside him devoured the love.
The paper fire burned furiously and shortly, and it seemed to him now as if their love had also. The years that had passed were but a twinkling in the eye of the cosmic timescale. And it seemed their love had hardly begun, and it had ended. His dreams of their everlasting love were gone in an instant, swept away as the ashes from the small fire, by the wind.
Yet, in the days and months that followed, he did not think less of her than before. He though of her as much as he had ever had. But now his thoughts of her filled him with a great sadness, and an even greater longing than before.
All he had left of Natasha was the 'Alice in Wonderland' book which she had given him, and which he treasured as his most valued possession. He read from it frequently, and when he did he would think of her, and of that lost love, which they had shared.
And the time and the years flowed by in an endless stream of lonely days. John worked and lived on the South Coast, and spent his spare time relaxing and fishing. He had made a few friends, and sometimes he would go over to one of their houses and visit. Or a few of them would come to his rondawel, and have a barbeque by the river underneath the lush green trees.
His life was a pleasant one, and he was just lacking in one respect, he was loveless. He was loveless because a girl had left him, and he wanted her and no other, and therefore he chose to remain alone. His friends knew this about him and none of them ever tried to hook him up with a girl. He was John, the loner, and he said he was happy that way. Everyone just let him be, which was, as he liked it. He had lost in love, and now he chose to be alone, he had the right, and he knew he was happier alone, than with some woman he did not love.
Yes, tomorrow the stream would still be flowing by, the birds would still be singing in the trees, and the sun and wind would be caressing them all, and John would still be alone.
Chapter Six.
Her life in Cape Town went on as usual. If it had not been for the fact that she missed John and his frequent letters so much. She hoped he was all right.
Her studies progressed at a satisfactory pace, and she kept staying in the old house with Cecil. He was also doing well in his studies and they would complete their respective degrees at about the same time. Their love and sex life was also going along nicely, and once they had both obtained their qualifications, they would get married.
They went out on weekends as they always did, and she came to love her new home in the mother city more and more. It was such a beautiful place with so much to see and do. The beaches were clean, well kept and plentiful. The old wine estates were spectacular if out went out to them in the early morning.
And Table Mountain itself was also a nice place for the two of them to spend the day. From up there the view of the entire city and the surrounding ocean was spectacular. Today was no different, and the two of them were relaxing on the summit at a public picnic place. They ate lunch and had some light Cape wine with it. Then they wondered about the area a while admiring the view, and the indigenous flora.
Then they drove down the mountain in Cecil's new four-by-four, and stopped at the bottom of the mountain, at the t-junction. Her window was rolled down, as it was a hot summer afternoon. As if from out of nowhere a 'bergie' (Hobo.) approached her from the bushes alongside the road.
"Spare a pittance so that a man can buy a half-loaf, please madam? he begged from her.
Cecil had no time for 'bergies' and considered them the dregs of humanity; he sped away in his luxury vehicle.
"Never give money to a bum, he told Natasha "they only use the money for booze.
Oh it wouldn't have harmed to give him a rand or two. She said in response.
"No way, he said, "that only encourages them. And with that the conversation seemed at an end.
They both received their degrees in mid 2003, having taken a bit longer than they should have to obtain it. He was now a qualified accountant, and she had earned a degree in journalism.
He went to work for his father and the firm was renamed 'Rabinovic & Son'. He and his father got along well and there business continued to flourish, as the father's one had over the years. She got a job at a local newspaper 'The Cape Tribune', in the department for human-interest stories. This meant that she spent a lot of time on the streets among the common people of Cape Town.
In the middle of 2004 they got married in an interdenominational ceremony, because he was Jewish and she a protestant. Her parents wanted her to convert to the Jewish faith, but she stubbornly declined. She said Cecil should take her as she was, and that she did not see the need for changing her faith. Cecil agreed and supported her in this regard.
After the wedding they went for a two-month honeymoon in Knysna, for which Cecil's father paid. It was wonderful romantic days for them, as they played on the beach and among the shallows. At night they would go out to a local restaurant, and thereafter would follow a night of passionate lovemaking in the chalet they had rented. It was her dream honeymoon come true, and she hoped and believed it would be her ideal marriage as well.
She had caught Cecil getting over friendly on one or two occasions, but let it pass without much comment, because she had grown to trust him over the years. As he was lying next to her in the bed, she knew she loved him, and she was happy, but then her thoughts would wander back to John again.
She thought about John often, she thought about him because she knew deep down inside she still loved and cared for him. Why did they grow apart, why did she let him go?
She wandered frequently if he was doing all right. Had he met someone else? She hoped he had, he should move on with his life as she had done. Did he still care for her? She knew she still cared for him. She hoped he was taking good care of himself. She wondered if she would ever see him again.
And did he still cherish their love, and her letters. Did he still have the book she gave him so long ago? Did he remember their young days together, as she did? She hoped he was not lonely. He should not be alone; he was a good man, a fine man. And yes, if she had to honest with herself, she did miss him. She wished things had worked out different for them. That they could have been together as they had dreamed when they were young.
And if had met someone else, did he still think of her occasionally and smile at the love they shared. Would he forget her and forsake all thought of her completely? How she wished she could just talk to him one more time, to straighten things out, to say 'no hard feelings', to say 'I did love you, and I know now you loved me'.
If she could just speak to him a final time that is what she would say. That and, 'take care of yourself, be happy, and remember, I will always miss you'.
Time had passed quickly for her these past years, with studies and love life with Cecil. She was happy, and she looked forward too a prosperous career and happy marriage.
Cecil's father helped them to buy a small two bed roomed flat in Rondebosch, close to their offices. They settled quickly in the routine of young working couples in their first year of marriage. Cecil went off early in the morning to the accounting office close by, and she headed off to the office of 'The Tribune' in town. By six o' clock in the evening they were both back, and Cecil would have the take away diners with him that he purchased on his way back from work, at a small café cum restuarant, run by an elderly Jewish gentleman.
She would light some candles, and they would have diner by their dim light, switching off the electric ones. Afterward they would watch satellite, or a DVD, on the television, and usually make love at least once before retiring for the night. Yes, her life was good and she was happy, her future looked bright. And she was happy in love.
But sometimes in the small hours of the morning, her heart would yearn for the other man in her life. The one she had left behind and forgotten, or who had left her behind and forgotten her, she was not sure which. She would lie there alone in the darkness, and wonder if John was all right.
Did he still remember and love her, as she still loved him? Somewhere far away the sea roared softly in the darkness, lulling her to sleep.
Chapter Seven.
It was early in January 2005, and John was sitting under the shade of the tree outside his rondawel, when McDonald brought him the letter. He had to nip the joint he was smoking when he saw the old man come down the path from the house.
When McDonald handed him the letter, he recognized the familiar brown envelope immediately. It was from Natasha, the girl he had loved, and will always love. He could not help but smile broadly with joy and saying; "Thank you, Mister McDonald.
He held the envelope to his nose a he always did, and smelt the delicate fragrance of her perfume. Then he opened it gently with his small wooden letter opener, and unfolded the pages carefully. He read once, and then twice more thereafter. He would read again several times over the next few weeks, as he always did with all her letters.
She said in the letter the letter that she hoped he was doing well, and that he was taking care of himself. She said that she was doing well. She had obtained her degree in the middle of last year and had found work at a local newspaper. She was happy with her work, and was doing well in it.
She and Cecil had also been married last year, and were staying in nice flat in Rondebosch. He was working for his father, and they now run an accountancy firm together. It seemed as if their business was doing well. She said that she hoped he understood.
It was nice in Cape Town and there was always plenty to do. She told him a bit about the city and its people, and how she now had more contact with them, with her job at the newspaper. She was happy here, and would never think of leaving, or returning to Gauteng.
She said she was sorry for breaking contact, and that she had missed hearing about him and whether he was doing all right. She hoped that they might restore their friendship, as it had meant so much to her in her youth, and she knew it did for him too. She would really like to hear from him again, and hear if he was making out all right. It was signed 'Natasha' in her familiar handwriting.
As he read the letter over a few times, he marveled at how happy her letter made him. He did not even care all that much about her marrying Cecil. He tried to put it from his mind and succeeded, because all he could think about was her. Her and the letter.
What did it imply? That she still loved him and cared about him? That much was obvious to him. That she still missed him? Yes, he knew she did, and he missed her. With all his heart and being. Screw Cecil, that won't last, and then she will come back to him. But how would he compete with Cecil, and his father's money?
He would worry about that later. First, he had to win back the heart and affections of his girl. He had too win back the love of Natasha. He sat down and wrote a letter. He tore it up soon after reading it, and wrote another one. It had to be just right.
She received his letter in the standard white envelopes that he had always used. She new it was from him, because of his unmistakable handwriting. Semi-neat, she called it. She smiled to herself, she was so happy he had written back, and so soon.
She sat down on the red leather sofa, in the lounge of their Rondebosch flat, with the birds chirping merrily in the tall trees, outside the window in the garden. Her heart was as light as their song, as she cut the envelope open with a thin stake knife. Then she sat down to read the words of her long lost love.
He said that he was very pleased to hear from her. He had thought that she had forgotten him, and had moved on with her life, without him in it. He was very happy that things were going well with her, and he hoped that she would prosper in her job and marriage.
He said he was still working at the same job; for McDonald in the re-roofing business. He said the he had learned a lot about the trade from the old man over the past few years, and had become quite knowledgeable in the trade himself. He was earning a decent wage, and still had free accommodation from the old man.
He was still staying in the rondawel by the river, nothing had changed. She wished she could be there with him. He said he was still single and that he had no intensions of getting involved with someone. This made her wish even more that she could be with him. But she would say nothing of the sort in her replies, unless one-day things turned sour between her and Cecil.
John said in the letter that his favorite pass time was fishing, and that he did quite a lot of it down on the south coast. Apparently this is how he spent most of his free time; fishing. His only other interest seemed to be reading, and he bought books from a small secondhand book dealer in the main street of Margate. He mentioned some books he had recently read, and she noticed there were one or two among them, which she had also read over time.
He said he would keep on writing if she did. He told her he had written long ago, and phoned when they were still in the old house, all to no avail. He chastised her a bit about this in the letter, and the subtle way in which he did it, made her smile.
He said that she should continue to take good care of herself, and that he hoped they could see one another again face to face, one day. His last line read; 'Remember that I love you, and I always will, John'. She read it again and again. He still loved her, and this made her realize all the more that she loved him.
She tucked the letter away in a safe place where Cecil was never bound to find it. She would hide all of her and John's letters here. She had to take care that Cecil never found out the truth about her and John. That the flame had never died, and never will.
Over the next few months John and Natasha corresponded regularly by mail, and rebuild the relationship of their forgotten love. The letter became more personal and passionate as time progressed.
They both discovered that they were still as deeply in love with one another as they had been all those years ago. He understood that she was now married, but if anything should ever happen in her marriage, which should cause her to change her mind, he would be waiting.
She asked him in one letter if he still had the book she had given him back in high school. He said that he did, that it was his most prized possession, and that he read it frequently. He had even bought himself the other 'Alice' book at the bookstore in Margate, which was also now in his small collection.
The waves of the mighty Atlantic crashed on the Cape shores, where she sat and read the words of her true love. And where he was sitting far away on the south coast, the Indian Ocean threw it waters upon the Natal beaches.
Chapter Eight.
She was happy about her life. Her marriage was going well, despite the fact that Cecil continued being over friendly with all pretty females in his proximity. She was happy despite this, because she had back the love of John.
Her job was fairly pleasant and her life was progressing well. She was happy. She was happy until the allegations surfaced; that was in mid April. Allegations of fraud and misappropriation of clients funds, led to the investigation of the accountancy firm of Rabinovic & Son. The police and internal revenue service had taken the matter into their hands, and the situation seemed dire for the father and son accountants.
Overnight her seemingly idyllic life became a nightmare. First the investigators came with a warrant and ransacked their flat. They found and left with some files they seemed pleased to have acquired. Soon after that the hounding by the press and television crews started. They virtually hung out by her front door. She had to show them away several times because she did not want to get involved in the whole affair. In all honesty she knew nothing of her new husbands accountancy work. All she knew is that he earned very good money in his fathers business.
If it had only been for that, she might have been able to cope and deal with the situation. But the breaking point in her and Cecil relationship came when her suspicions of his philandering were confirmed. She went over unannounced to his office late one evening, where he was supposedly hard at work on the case concerning him and his father's alleged fraudulent activities. (Which he often assured her were ridiculous accusations)
When she got their the offices were locked, and the night watchmen said that all the offices in the building had closed at six that evening, it was now ten o' clock at night. She asked him if he had seen her husband leaving the building. Yes he did, he said, he had left at six with his secatary; Miss Sanders, as he usually did.
She did not try hard to get her suspicions confirmed. When she confronted her husband he made such a hash of lying that she knew he was fooling around. That was what had made up her mind for her. She had hardly been married a year but she would get a divorce. Her dream was slowly turning into a nightmare, and she did not wish to deal with it anymore.
At least she still had John, and their true love. She sat down by her little writing table when she had some time alone and wrote to him about her troubles, and her decision to divorce Cecil.
He received her letter with the same joy, which he always felt at hearing from her. He smelt the envelope a moment, before cutting it open with the letter opener.
When he had finished reading it, he read it again slowly to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him. Cecil and his old man were fraudsters, and were up for the chop. Not only that but he can't keep his willy under control. She was giving him the ditch. She was throwing out the rich Jew boy.
It made him so happy, he did not know whether he should laugh or cry. He mostly laughed. He laughed with joy. His girl was coming back. She would surely come back to him, and then they would be together as he had always dreamed, and hoped, they would be.
He would have to contact her, but not by post this time, he would have to give her telephone call so that they could talk the matter out. He took out a leaf of paper and wrote down what he wanted to say to her on it. Then he folded it in half and put it in his pocket. He took his jacket of the hook, because even the coastal region can be cool during May, and the wind was blowing outside. He closed the door to his rondawel behind him and locked it.
Then he walked down the narrow footpath on the side of the river, towards the beach. He walked across the small stretch of beach and came to the low pedestrian bridge over the water. Then he walked up the steep concrete path that led to Glenmore.
He went to the public phone across from the café, and went and prepared himself to phone. He repeated to himself a few times what he would say and then he placed the card in the slot and dialed the number.
The wind buffeted his jacket as he stood in the small enclosure offered by the telephone booth. He steadied his nerves.
The wind had blown up and down the coast for five years while they were apart. They were apart in person and in presence. But their love for one another had not faltered with the passage of time.
The wind swept the beaches of the Cape, and it roamed up the coast to the shores of Natal. The moon and stars had shone on their love all through the intervening years, even if they were unaware of it. The moon had beamed brightly above as the wind swept the shores of South Africa, and during the days the sun shone in all its brilliance. Their love was alive once more.
As the wind traveled up and down the coast, and the earth rotated slowly on its axis, there love had been alive during all this time, and they were hardly aware of it. Now their love was reborn, as nature is reborn with each new cycle of the seasons, and life was once more worth living.
Sometimes as he sat in front of his rondawel overlooking the green river as the wind gently caressed him, and he would think of Natasha's gentle love. He thought often about how much he loved her and how happy he would be to be with her again. Her love was soft and true as the gentle breeze upon his face. He loved beyond measure.
And sometimes she would find herself dreaming, while sitting in the small garden of the flat, of how much she wanted to be back in the arms of the man she loved. How good it would feel to be held by him again. To be held by the one person that really loved her. The Cape wind would buffet her firmly but gently from within the protection of the high garden walls, and she would remember their young love once again, and smile.
From the Cape shores to Natal the sea rolled on, and washed her waves out on the beaches, and upon the black rocks. She ruled the coast in majesty alongside the wind that encouraged her antics. And the wind blew over the coast and gave life to all who lived. The sea rushed on, and the wind blew, as endless as their love. As powerful as the sea and the wind, as beautiful as the moon and stars, and as mighty as the sun; that was the love of John and Natasha. They were as inseparable as these elements of nature, and now they would be re-united, and the balance, restored.
And still the waves roared on in glory, and the wind blew on without ceasing for a moment.
Chapter Nine.
"Hello this is Margaret, said the voice on the other side.
"Hello, can I speak to Mrs. Rabinovic, please, said John, he hated saying 'Mrs. Rabinovic'.
"Just a moment please, who may I say is calling? said the maid.
"It's John speaking, he said.
"Just a moment please, replied the maid, and then she went to call Natasha.
He kept waiting for a few minutes on the line and then he heard her voice.
"Hello John, she said, and she sounded out of breath. Her voice had not changed over the years, it sounded as it had always done, beautiful.
"Hello Natasha, how are you? said John.
"I'm trying to keep a brave face in public, and I'm holding out O.K. she said, and added, "Dodging the reporters is the worst, which is funny, seeing as I am one myself.
"Yes, he said, "I am sorry to hear about what happened. But it all seems so sudden, I thought everything was going well with Cecil and his father's business.
Well, you know what they say, she said "Figures lie and liars figure.
"Is that it then, are you leaving him for good? John asked her.
"Yes, it's final, I filed the divorce papers with lawyers first thing on Monday morning. Said Natasha.
"What will you do now? John said.
"Oh, I'll keep on working at the Tribune, I suppose, she said "This thing should blow over quickly for me, once I have divorced Cecil. I'll have to find another place to stay. But John, why don't you come down here now? We could be together as we had always dreamed. We're both more mature now, and could make it work. You could find a job in the roofing business down here easily. Would you come to me?
He did not know what to say immediately, as his heart was in his throat. After a brief silence he said: "Yes, I'd like that. When should I come?
"When could you come? she asked.
He thought a while and replied "In two weeks time, I'll have to give the old man short notice, and he will be sorry to see me go. I also have a few possessions that I would have to sell, because I can't bring them with me. Let's make it Friday the twenty second of July, in two weeks time. How does that sound?
"That sounds super, I really look forward to it, she said, "I really look forward to seeing you again.
"I'm also looking forward to seeing you again, and remember Natasha, I love you, said John.
She knew his words were the truth, because now their love was undeniable.
"I love you too, she said.
"Until then, said John
"Until then, said Natasha, and they both put down the receiver.
John was ecstatic; his girl loved him once more. He let out a shout of joy in the narrow, windy and deserted street. Far away Natasha also smiled, her man was coming to her at last.
And John was happy once more, he was going to see his girl, and she still loved him. She had said so. That made him happier than he thought he had ever been.
He would sell his meager possessions, and buy a one-way ticket on a bus liner headed for Cape Town. Natasha and he would be together as they were meant to be from the start. And nothing would ever part them again. Their love had endured, and would endure, forever.
He sold his rods and reels, most of his books, his C/D player, and the few other things he had acquired over the past five years. He sold most of it to friends of his. Then he went and gave notice at McDonald, and explained the whole situation to him. McDonald was sad to see him go, but was happy for his part, that he had been re-united with the girl of his dreams. The old man wished him well.
Over the two weeks that followed, he went and said goodbye to all the acquaintances and friends he had made on the South Coast over the past few years, as well as his grandparents. They all said he must take care of himself, and bring back some snoek if he was ever in the vicinity again. He would miss the place and its people.
But his love was calling from the south, as if her beckon was being carried on the wind, and as if it lured him south to where she waited. He counted the days and nights before his departure for Cape Town, and wished each night the time had come already. How he missed her and yearned for her. How much he wanted to be by her side. The time would come soon. Soon.
Outside in the dark night the wind whispered in the trees and over the water, as the river flowed by under the stars, and the white moon. And his heart ached for Natasha; his heart ached for the woman he loved.
And she was yearning for him, where she waited for his arrival in Cape Town. He would be coming soon, any day now, and they would be together at last.
Her man was coming through to see her, they would be re-united, and nothing would ever part them again. He still loved her with all his heart, and she felt the same way about him. Their love would conquer all. Nothing would stand in the way of their happiness together. She would never let him go again.
And Cecil? To hell with him, and his floozy, and his whole damn family. He was a disappointment from start to finish. She would be glad to be rid of him. She hoped the divorce proceedings would not take too long. At least she did not foresee any problems with the result. Soon she would be rid of Cecil Rabinovic for good.
Then she and John could truly start their lives over, and who knows, maybe they would soon be wed. It made her happy to think along these lines, and she smiled. Yes, she and John would be together at last, and nothing would ever separate them again. She looked at herself in the large oval hallway mirror and smiled. She and John would be happy together, they deserved to be. She wished he was here by her side already.
The afternoon traffic was heavy in the street outside the window. A bread truck roared by followed by a few sedans, three other sedans of varying color drove passed in the opposite direction. The noise of the vehicles was overwhelming so late in the afternoon at peak hour. Peak hour traffic in Cape Town. She drew the heavy curtains on the thick wooden rails, to help dampen the noise.
Then she went and made herself a cup of coffee, and sat on the red sofa, to read John's last letter to her again. It always made her happy to read his letters, especially the parts where he told her he loved her.
Outside the wind was blowing the last leaves of summer gently from the branches of the trees. The wind carried them off with her and deposited them softly on the ground in the gardens of the complex.
Chapter Ten.
John arrived at the departure point for the bus in Margate at half-past-four in the afternoon. The bus arrived at twenty to and the baggage was loaded. He only had two suitcases, one large and one medium. He boarded the bus with the other passengers and took his appointed seat.
The bus was average, being that of a small independent local liner, that operated up and down the coast. The were called 'Vermeulen'- busses. The bus drivers were both white middle-aged men, and the stewardess was a friendly colored girl from Cape Town. The bus was neat, and seemed in good order, even though it was owned by a small company.
At five o'clock the bus took off for its journey through the night. The expected time of arrival in the mother city was ten o' clock on Friday morning. It would take so long because the road through the Transkei was not in good order, and they would also be loading passengers on and off at all the large cities en route; East London, Port Elizabeth, Plettenberg Bay and Knysna.
Soon the bus was traveling south, past his old hometown; Munster. He gave the place a look of goodbye as they drove past. As the bus rolled on smoothly on narrow strip of black tar, he remembered the old man, McDonald who had given him work and a place to stay. He had been good to John. Yes, he would miss Munster and the old man.
The bus crossed the large span bridge into the Transkei, and the dwindling sunlight cast brilliant golden rays on the water of the river mouth. As they drove south the sea was often at their left, except at places where the road was situated more inland. They drove through Port St. Johns and Lisiki-siki, and the road curved ever southward.
At about seven o' clock in the evening the sun went down over the ocean, and they had a nice view of it in the bus, as it drove along the coastline. Then the darkness fell over them, and still the big bus sped on through the night. There were some videos on the small television screens around the bus, but it was as always, movies everyone in the bus had seen a dozen times before.
His thoughts drifted towards Natasha where she waited for his arrival in Cape Town. How happy he would be to see her, he hoped she would be pleased at seeing him too. How much he missed her, now that they were so close to being re-united after so long. How he loved her. How he loved her.
Would she still be the same, would she find him the same. Would their love be unchanged over the years. He knew his love for her would be, he had always loved her and no other, and he always would. He hoped she would love him in return, and he believed in his heart that she would. How much he longed for the night to end, and the journey to be over. To be back in the arms of Natasha once more.
The large metallic gray bus cruised on, without falter, on the narrow black road, through the star-spangled night. The moon beamed brightly overhead, and the wind blew gently.
It was twenty to five in the afternoon in Cape Town, and the afternoon traffic was heavy. Natasha walked down the sidewalk to where she would cross the street to get to her car.
She had so much to think of. John would be arriving tomorrow morning at ten. Cecil and her hardly spoke any more after she told him John was coming to Cape Town. She hoped the two of them did not fight. She hated the idea of two grown men fighting over her.
Her thoughts were preoccupied with this, and some article she was working on for the newspaper, so that she was juggling several thoughts at the same time, as she crossed the street. Her mind was not fully focused on the present, and to her it was as if the black sedan came out of nowhere. The driver was only doing sixty kilometers an our, but when he saw step in front of his car, he had no time to swerve out of the way.
The car hit her with its full momentum, and the impact was enough to send her rolling across the street, until she lay still. She lay there thinking of John and their love one last time, before all grew dark around her, and she died. Natasha Booysen died there on the busy road in the city center, with a small crowd gathering around her, and she left behind her love.
After the police and paramedics had come and gone, order was restored to the road, and the flow of traffic resumed. The cars and trucks roared by with out knowing what had happened here an hour ago.
When John arrived at ten the next morning he waited in vain for Natasha to come and pick him up at the bus depot. After he had waited an hour, he went to phone her home at a nearby pay phone.
The maid pick up and he said "Hello, can I speak to Mrs. Rabinovic, please?
"Who is speaking please? said Margaret.
"It's John speaking. He said.
"I'll go and call Mr. Rabinovic. Said the maid.
John wondered what all this was about, why would she want to go and call him? Nonetheless, he waited. After a few moments Cecil spoke on the other end.
"Cecil Rabinovic here. He said.
"John Britz speaking here Cecil, I would lie to speak to Natasha. Said John.
"I'm afraid that would be impossible, not now or ever, she died last night in a car accident. Said Cecil voice on the other end of the line.
John was quiet, he did not know what to say. He could hear from Cecil tone of voice that he was not lying. Natasha was dead. What would he do now?
"Hello? You still there? asked Cecil.
"Yes. How did it happen? asked John
"She got hit by a car late yesterday afternoon while crossing the road, look I really can't talk at the moment, said Cecil, " The funeral will be held at the Dutch Reformed Church in town on Wednesday, you are welcome to come then, and perhaps then we could speak.
"That would be fine, thank you. Said John, and he hung up the phone.
He was in a state of shock. He went and sat in a nearby park under some trees with bare branches. They had long ago shed their leaves to the winter wind.
He just sat there and watched the birds flutter among the trees, chirping. And felt the wind gently caressing his face. And he remembered Natasha, and how much they loved each other. He remembered her smiled. He would never be the same without her. He was almost too sad to cry, but eventually a tear rolled down his cheek.
The wind kept blowing and the birds kept singing as the Saturday morning crowds of pedestrians passed him by. And he sat there crying unashamed.
*************
The funeral was held on Wednesday, and he attended it, in a suit he had rented from a local shop. He and Cecil spoke a bit, and to John he did not seem to be such a bad guy, after all, judging on his first impression. He also gave his condolences to Natasha's parents.
Afterwards, he went for something to eat at a small place near the waterfront, and to decide what he was to do next, and think over what had happened. He could not go back home, he and his father had grown into complete strangers over the years, no, he could never go back home. He had lost contact with his brother, who was working in northern Botswana somewhere, and he had no way of reaching him.
What about going back to McDonald. He could do that, but he did not want to. For a while he wanted to do nothing at all. Just bum around, live off his small savings for a while, and do basically; nothing.
And then after a few months of that, maybe he will have the strength and courage to pull himself together again. Maybe then he could start over and forget about everything that had happened. But he knew deep in his heart this was not true; he would never forget Natasha. And he would never love another as he had loved her.
How he still loved her. A seagull soared lightly in the sky above the water, floating gently on the light sea breeze.
Chapter Eleven.
It was early in 2006 and John was still in Cape Town as he had been these past six months. The holiday season was over, but he was not planning on going anywhere.
He just bummed around the city center, and some times one could find him begging in Adderleystreet, or some other busy road. He had no more dreams and aspirations of love and happiness. He just lived each day as it came. He made no plans for tomorrow.
When Natasha had died, all his dreams died with her. He had no more joy in life, other than to loaf around the beaches and public parks, getting drunk on cheap wine. For this he bummed money for strangers, on the pretext that he needed to buy himself a half loaf of bread to eat, for want of hunger.
Once he had enough money he would go to a bottle store and buy himself a cheap bottle of wine. Then he would go and sit under a tree, on a bench in the park, and drink it all, drowning his sorrows. Sometimes he would smoke a small zoll of dagga as he sat there under shade of the trees. The wine and marijuana mixed would help him forget his great sadness, and his longing for his lost love.
He became a real 'bergie' living in the bushes along the beach, or on the mountain, depending on the time and circumstance. He kept to himself, and avoided the company of others, even others like himself. He was lone recluse pining over the death of the only girl he had ever loved, and would ever love.
In his small haversack, one of his few possessions was the 'Alice in Wonderland' book, which she had given him when they were young. It was his only prized worldly possession and he would read from it frequently, wherever he was loafing around.
To him his life was over, and he was just waiting for it to end. Natasha was gone, and his hopes and dreams had flown with her soul.
He was begging at the bottom of the mountain one day, where the road coming down made a t-junction with the one at the bottom. He was begging from the rich folks cars that stopped there on their way down from a Sunday afternoon on the mountaintop.
A couple in a new white Mercedes coupe stopped at the junction, and he approached the passenger's side where a beautiful blonde lady sat.
"A small tip please, he begged of her.
The man next her shouted at her as she was about to extract some money from her purse; "Mary, don't give that bum a cent, you shouldn't encourage them. And then he sped away leaving John standing dirty and bedraggled at the roadside.
"Bastard! John shouted after him.
Another luxury motor vehicle was already coming down the road from the top of the mountain, and he prepared himself for another try.
In the west the yellow sun was slowly finding its way down to settle into the great Atlantic Ocean.
Epilogue.
The wind swept over the waves, as the ocean emptied its load onto the beaches. And the beaches were spread out along the coast in endless strips of white sand.
At night the moon and stars threw their brilliant glow on the fair city, as it glimmered in the darkness below. The dawn was a spectacle of colors; red, purple, orange and yellow, as the sun broke and heralded in a new day.
The feint mist would wash of in from the sea, and mingle with the smog and smoke of early morning city life. The streets would come alive with people and traffic, and the city would bustle during the day. As the day progressed the wind would blow the smog and smoke back out over the sea, and clean the city.
The people went about their work and business, and late in the afternoon the day would again draw to a close, and the activity in the city center would decrease, as families settled down for the evening. The sun would set in brilliance out in the west, over the ocean, and the night would come swiftly.
The moon and stars would keep their eternal vigil over the sea, and pull her waters high and low, as the lights of Cape Town sparkle brightly below.
"and if you hear vague traces
of skippin' reels of rhyme
to your tambourine in time
its just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn't pay it any mind
it's just a shadow you're seeing that he's chasing.
Bob Dylan ' 'Mr. Tambourine Man'.
The End.
Copyright ' JP Brown ' 24/05/2005.
