Thursday, 5 May 2016

Muscle & Bone

Outside the sun shines as green leaves are tickled by the slightest of breezes.

Inside, I wait to head out, feet frozen because wearing shoes inside will never be normal for kaalvoet kinders. Today may be the day I find my own place and move out. What a difference space makes.
And it is desperately needed - earlier on I was skyping with a friend and had asked which room would be best, where would I least disturb, where could a conversation be had behind a closed door. I asked, I adapted, I offered to change if/when needed. In the middle of our conversation about politics he busts in, fumbles around behind me, listens in, mumbles approvingly at some of the things my friend is saying. I ask whether he wants to work, if I should change rooms because I'd like to speak in private and not have my entire conversation surveilled. He goes off on a tirade about how we share space and that he has the right to enter where he wants when he wants. Which is true, this space belongs to them, and I am a tenant of sorts, a presence that one has to tolerate because it is what familial expectations dictate. But is privacy not also a right? Is having a moment to talk to a friend on my own without the hearing ears of others not also just a sign of respect? It is a constant challenge navigating these waters.

Yesterday I was again skyping (thanks Skype for being such a lifeline to sanity), this time with my mother. At some point she made the thumbs-up sign and said "Shap". How easy that was. Shap Shap. All good. Everything's ok. The reassuring sign of my mom indicating that everything was as it was supposed to be.

Focus Sabine. It's all good. This is nothing.
How you doin', you good? Ja man, hundreds.
I'm hundreds.

No comments:

Post a Comment