I am procrastinating. Instead of writing up my journalism assignment, I am deeply engrossed in a novel called The Bang Bang club by Greg Marinovich and Joao Silva. It’s a tale of gruesome murder, heartless massacre and pain endured by blacks in townships around the country, at the hands of merciless rebel troops prior to the end of apartheid in South Africa.
This side of the story is new to me. I am deeply ashamed. I am angry that I was never told. I am angry that I never got taught of this, “other” struggle when I was in school. I am so mad that so many people are left in the dark, every day.
We attended a charitable human auction this week. I sympathised with every dollied- up woman that came on stage, nervous as to her sales price and anxious that her best characteristics be advertised. With every bang of the auctioneers hammer I thought of what my sales pitch would be. I am a fun- loving girl who loves cooking and climbing mountains.
That kind of sentence makes me feel nauseous. Let me guess: “Looking for an easy- going, funny man who loves me just the way I am.”
I am receptive. My surroundings influence me. I like to think I surround myself with good people. I am reluctant to be labelled. Labels are such a burden. “Afrikaans”; “Christian”, “Hippie,” “student.” Few labels are all- encompassing. I find adjectives suit me better. I am frightened. I am white. I am sorry. I am lying. Some of the time. Brunette. Fast driver. Food addict. Friendly. Procrastinator.Privileged. Selfish. Messy. Hot- tempered. Self- assuming. I am aware that writing down all these bad characteristics is, in fact, likely to put me in a good light. “Wow, she’s honest with herself; she’s not blowing her own horn”
You’re not listening. I do lie sometimes. I can be selfish. Some days you can’t see the floor in my room its so well- covered by discarded garments. I’m not even honest with myself. I’m wary of this advertising game, this selling off and exchange of paltry traits. The crossing- signal game we play in social circles. The assumption that people, who look the same, talk the same and like the same stupid things are likely to group together. I am tired of giving the same Carina- loves-cooking- and- travelling speech. I am searching for my own brand of brutal honesty and I thought you deserved to know the truth.
