While I was standing in a very long, slow moving, lethargic queue at the
ATM, I met a girl with lively big brown eyes, looking very inquisitively at me.
We are also in a queue waiting for Christmas to appear and to give out gifts -
and the people look tired and irritated. Nothing exciting is going on in their
lives. That is how I see them.
“Hallo, young one.” I said to her. Life still holds lots of secrets,
mysteries and stories and songs. There was a cool breeze and I looked around
where it came from? Yes, you guessed it – all the adults, who were deep in
their own thoughts, ears were flapping. There is conversation to listen to. And
this conversation is not about Cyril Ramaphosa or any other old politician’s
shenanigans. An oupa and a four-year-old girl starting chatting.
She greeted me: “Hallo, I am four years old.”
Me: “Wow, four years, you are getting on in years, hey?” She nodded in
agreement. And kept looking at me.
“Tomorrow, I am five years.”
“Tomorrow it is new year.”
“Tomorrow, I go to big school.”
“I can read. I can write. They are teaching me at school.”
“Tomorrow …” and she kept on telling me about tomorrow. Tomorrow is an
important day in a four-year old’s life. She’s lived a lifetime already.
The aunt, being the adult in our company, explains about tomorrow as if
I don’t understand. I do understand about tomorrow!
Me: “Do you go to school?” Of course, but it is holiday today and so,
she is not at school today. She is also standing in the queue with her auntie
because mother is at work.
Me: “You are very clever?”
She: “Yes, I know.” And that settled it. Clever young one.
Me: “Can you sing me a song?” And she started singing but looking that a
way, away from me.
“No, young lady I can’t hear a word. Look at me.” It was the ABC song –
right thru to Z. And I, as a grandpa, know the same song. I helped her to sing
it and to complete it.
She turned to her aunt and whispered something; I overheard it: “Auntie,
I am shy.”
“O really? I don’t think so. Not with you singing in public in front of
all the people in the queue and you telling me that I don’t know where you are
living.” All in one breath.
“How about something else?”
“Hickory dickory dock, the mouse rans up the clock.”
Sorry, not that one.
It was actually “Baba black sheep have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir
three bags full.” I happen to know that one too; I also know the song she did
not sing. I am certain she knows that song that she did not sing, as well;
please bear in mind that we all know by now, that she is clever.
So, we were chatting and singing choruses, in the queue that is no
longer that long anyway, and suddenly the queue was not so long after all.
The aunt and she, very cautiously, approached the money vending machine
[I hope there is enough in the account to satisfy their needs for the day] and
I waited my turn at a different ATM. We lost contact. She, and her aunt went
their way. And I went mine. I do hope that they got what they wanted to from
the vending machine. They didn’t spend a long time with the machine and I
didn’t see Auntie putting something in her private banking Boobs.
Off, I went to the coffee shop with free wi-fi because the tree fellows
felled the internet cable in my street. I was reliably informed, by the
chairman of the body corporate, who employed the contractor whose able workmen
not only fell the trees, but cut into the internet and stopped the caboodle,
that the ISP is on its way as well as the insurance guys. A high-level
investigation is on the go. And we are without internet drinking endless coffees
at coffee shops.
I met Hymie Marnewick at the coffee shop. That is where he comes
regularly to have coffee and something to eat and to conduct his international
business. He tells me he does not have a single client in the RSA; he conducts
business internationally. And he wonders what his son, who is 10 years old,
will be able to do when he is grown up?
Indeed!
What will that boy be able to do?
Daddy tells me that one thing he knows for sure is that by the time
Boetie will go to university it will be very convenient: he will attend classes
from his bedroom. Oy, really? Yes, that is life and you have to adapt. Will
Boetie be able to use a screwdriver? A pliers? A hand saw? Will he be able to
know which way is the right way for a screw to be driven into the wooden plank?
Or, he might earn enough to employ a handyman to the work. A handyman will be
employed to change the light bulbs in his multi-storeyed house.
Me: “Your son will lose out on eyeball-to-eyeball contact and that is vital,
I think. What do you think?”
Hymie: “Yes, it might be so. That is why he goes horse-riding and all
sorts of social interactive groups. He must learn to interact with people.”
Laudable! And still Boetie will miss out. With a dad like this, I am convinced
he will look after his son’s social relationships.
On my way out, I said goodbye and God bless, whether you believe in a
God or not, be blessed. He just gave me a lookout and then smiles and
acknowledges it. Thank you, Hymie.
On my way to the parking garage, I met a lady friend of ours. She is
shopping and Hubbie is at home minding his own business.
All in all, I had an enjoyable morning trying to publish my blog-writeups
hoping that the cable is restored to good health.
Hymie, thank you for your permission to write about you. And God bless you and yours.
How was your day so far? Write me your story please: neelscoertse@wirelessza.co.za
