The first days of spring

It had been unusually lovely the entire week. But we were preparing for a group of international students to arrive so I could not revel in the loveliness outside, instead spending most of my time in front of the computer. 

And then D-Day was upon us: the planes were landing, the students disembarking and hopefully all our planning would work out. A beautiful sunrise set the tone for an exhausting but fantastic day. We left Flensburg at 8.00 and drove to Hamburg, where I was dropped off at Ikea (yay Ikea!) to buy bedding for one of the students. I also went to town in the material section because I want to make myself some curtains. Our one roommate is moving out soon as well and she brought most of the kitchen utensils with her, so I bought two mugs, a whisk and new sheets for myself. 

Then I took the bus into the city and received a message that one student had missed his flight and would therefore land 4 hours later. My colleague was already at the airport and could thus leave earlier, whilst I had more time to kill and would bring the last two students back to Flensburg by train. 

I ended up getting out at the main station and just walking around. It is like my friend G. said: when the weather is no longer dark and brooding the population changes switches its personality. Everyone stops hibernating and heads out to soak up the sun.

After the exam period and worrying about all the arrangements for the international students it was soul quickening to get away from Flensburg and just walk around by myself without the pressure of having to discover the city. Luckily I had my camera with me so I just walked around, bought myself a sandwich and chilled by the Alster. 

The moment of repose did not last long because thereafter the days have been rather stressful: Thursday we spent the entire day at the airport and the entire weekend was filled with activities for the students. This next week is also dedicated to wading through the bureaucratic nightmare that is Germany. 

Additionally, the weather has turned again and has soured the atmosphere. No longer are people walking around joyfully and basking in the sunlight. But at least the Hamburg day has given me hope that spring is in fact coming, slowly but surely. 

Deurmekaar

Ek besit nogals 'n hele paar digbundels, meestal in Engels. In Duitsland het ek my eie aanmatiging ondersteun deur tweedehandse Penguin digbundels in die U-Bahn te lees. Nie dat ek baie van die gedigte verstaan het nie, dit het eer daaroor te gaan om nie te lyk soos 'n Duister nie, om nie iets in hulle taal, wat tog ook myne is, te lees nie. Duits was oorals, en ek wou wys dat ek iets anders as dit ook kon wees. 

Maar al die gedigte was eeue oud en geskryf deur mans wie se wêrelde nie dieselfde gelyk het soos myne nie. Dit was soos die kunsuitstalling wat ons gister by Fried Contemporary Gallery bygewoon het: ek kon die prag wat ander sien verstaan, maar het self nie gevoel as of dit my besonders geraak het nie. Met kuns wil ek my hande oor die werk laat gly, ek wil elke deel voel en sien en met die macro-zoom-lens van my oog elke besonderheid opneem en nooit vergeet nie. Met gedigte wil ek dieselfde emosionele reaksie hê, ek wil voel hoe woorde oor my lippe vloei en deur my tong gevorm word en hoe klanke by my bly. 

Deesdae hou ek van Danie Marais se woorde, oor wie ek van tevore al geskryf het. Maak seker om na sy digbundel Al is die maan 'n misverstand te kyk. Dalk hou ek van sy gedigte omdat hy 'n paadjie wat vergelykbaar aan my eie is gestap het, en ek op die oomblik moet begin keuses maak oor die Toekoms (met 'n groot 'T' want mens moet altyd bietjie bang bly vir die môre). 

Ma

Ek moes geweet het, Ma,

geweet het ’n mens kan nie wegkom nie,

nooit

van jou eie stem,

van Afrikaans,

of verlange,

of die suburbs,

of niks nie.

Maar ek het probeer.

Ek het gehardloop,

gefokkof,

heen en weer,

Duitsland, rock bottom, en terug;

was elektries van hoop,

vrot van ambisie,

maar die lewe is sekuur

en die hart, Ma, is ‘n sagte teiken.

Ek moet met jou praat, Ma,

want die tyd versand

en alles lek weg na verderf.

Jy moet my vergewe, Ma,

want ek weet nie altyd wat ek doen nie.

Ek is nie goed met my hande of geld of aanvaarding nie.

Ek het jou liefde soms in die gesig geskop –

oor ek die almagtige stilte nooit kon bykom nie,

oor ek in volle beheer van my eie verleentheid moes wees,

oor niks anders binne bereik was nie.

Ek het jou liefde met klippe gegooi, Ma,

maar jy het vir my gekyk soos die see.

Jy weet maar te goed,

hoe ek voor jou betoog en my hande in die lug gooi

soos ‘n ortodokse Jood voor die Klagmuur

elke keer dat ‘n droom in my skoot kom vrek.

Wat gaan ek alles aanrig,

as jou liefde gaan lê?

Soms droom ek

hoe jy jou rug op my draai

om dood te gaan, Ma;

Hoe jy my

soos ‘n sleep, Ma, agter jou aan

skeur. 

Die gedig is nie my eiendom nie. Van sy gedigte is as Engelse vertaling ook hier te lees.  

By rights you should be bludgeoned in your bed

He phones. We always know when it is him calling, mostly on weekends. Under the pretence of connection, of family and of catching up he talks without end. He has no interest in listening, only telling what is happening in his life, how wonderful it is to live in a city "wo immer etwas los ist"*.

I want to reach through the phone, travel thousands of kilometres with a raised fist and smash it into his face. We live here, where not much happens, where Radiohead will never perform, where having been robbed and getting your third driver's licence in five years is normal. Fortunate, even. So don't tell me you won't go see Nick Cave because he comes every year. Don't tell me about the film festivals you won't attend because you are tired. Don't tell me your work is 10 minutes away by bike, or 5 minutes by metro.

Do not tell me these things that I cannot do because here does not facilitate the same lifestyle. And do not tell me about your adventures when for a week we have been sitting in front of laptops and readings and books and have worn the same sweatpants-tshirt-hoodie combination. Don't tell me about the possibilities that you are not embracing.

Look. Here is great. Here the sun shines in winter. Here you need playlists for long drives. Here is home. It is just that sometimes home is a bit boring and usual and then being informed of all the things you could be seeing and enjoying, but won't because it's overcast, fuck, that just makes me kind of furious.



*where something is always happening.