Olivetti 45 — I’m so impressed with how women are regarded, disregarded, abused and amused by those around them — other women, most men, and their children in hospital.
“A women is like a teabag — you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water,” said Eleanor Roosevelt. Now hear this.
A lot of hot water has been burning against my skin in the past couple of weeks. My skin and the skin of women around me. We’re drowning despite our strength. To start with, that huisvriendin died. Tragically, she drowned in her hot water that swirled with lies, deceit and ultimate atonement. See my last ramble for more about that, rehashing it makes me nauseous.
My sister was in a [euphemised] serious car accident on 19 August, and the entire world visits her in Milpark Hospital. To my dismay, or pleasure? I don’t know. I remember being angry while rushing to the accident scene with my mother.
“What the hell was she even doing in that area. I hope she didn’t cause anyone else hurt of any kind. She was probably not where she told my parents that she was.”
Wrong. She dropped off a friend, that recently moved to that area, that my parents were aware of. My sister’s accident, at no fault of her own, cost her immense pain in the form of a burst bladder and fractured pelvis, and my parents pain in the form of expenses. Yet, despite daily, née, two daily visits (at times) from our family she manages to bitch at my mother. Who makes her way to Johannesburg despite business and other obligations. I told her to stop it. You’re in hot water, sis, and you’ve got to swim despite having injured your pelvis. She sort of seems to be listening, and whenever she wanders off into misery and unfair remarks, I wander off back to the car to go home. I told my mom to be strict about how she is to be regarded as a supportive family member. Sigh. I never decided to be the eldest, I’d rather not be when it comes to these hot and sticky situations …
A close and crazy sales lady calls anyone a vriendin “that annoys you the moment you become aware of their presence”. Fair game, right? I don’t understand why two women instantly annoy each other when they suddenly find themselves in the same room. So I call on the vriendin that recently moved back, demoted (or promoted? Who knows). I guess you annoy me because you disregard me. Enough said. Your hot water is me if you continue to be as neerhalend. I are no intern no more, I is a competent reporter.
I suspect taking a coloured woman to a play about the Groot Trek means putting her in hot water. Because Kleintjie, the Khoi slave, is by disposition not a very diplomatically written character. Gera Phielix should make a return Trek to the Roodepoort Theatre, I’ll watch it again, regardless. I’d apologise, but the hot water that is the past we’ll be confronted with again and again. Might as well deal with it and dry off. Being this Astertjie means that I’ll always relate to other strong females and I’ll always take Afrikaans history seriously, because who can claim to be stronger than the boeretroos women?
I am a direct descendant of the boeretroos women. I am the only woman on my little Record team, which makes of me no secretary. So answer your own phones. Bother to ask why I didn’t make it to that event, in fact, talk to me — not to my lawyer. Being ignored doesn’t phase me either. My hot water, it seems, makes of me a bittersweet tea.
