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12 December 2018 | Story Mothepane Lebopo

The door closed. My eyes opened.

My dreams were halted as I sat up. She was already outside my window, the midnight moonlight lit her skin and erasing my fingertips on her arms. I opened the window… cold truth blew in. It stung my heart. She was going.

“Seriously? After four months this is how you are going to leave?”

Silence.

She was trying to control her breathing, to keep it as flat as possible. She had a unique, annoying gift of being able to compose herself in such situations, especially when she knew it was needed.

She stared at me.

My heart was pounding against my chest. In anger. In desperation. It had settled on her, but clearly she wouldn’t let me get close to hers.

I felt the first tear roll down my cheek. I quickly wiped away the second one. She just stared…

She could have been looking at me, thinking of other things. With her you never knew. She turned.

“Wait, please wait. Did you ever love me?”

She stuck her tongue out and left.

And I knew that was it: we were over. Thinking back, I might have known for a while that it was coming. But still… being prepared for something doesn’t guarantee your heart won’t break when it actually happens.

I left the window open, slightly. My head was spinning and my heart was tearing.

I laid on what was supposed to be our bed and dug my head in a pillow in an attempt to block out reality. It was useless; warm liquid from my broken heart poured out through my eyes. All I could smell was her.

But what was I expecting? It could never work. We were two puzzle pieces from different sets. Two pieces that were never supposed to fit… We tried to force it, and it ended in pain.

She was such an odd person. She had this ‘forbidden love’ thing about her. Being hers was strange, I knew she wasn't mine but I still tumbled head over heels. Being with her was like cheating on a diet. Or texting when you’re supposed to study.

She had beautiful, wild eyes that had perhaps seen too much. She got high on other people’s vulnerability. When her arms locked around me, she wasn’t just holding me, she was searching for pain. Insecurity. She would pin me down and kiss my nose. When she felt my guard coming up, she would tickle me and my power would leave me and enter her. She always won.

Often we’d try to watch the stars. I could never concentrate, her beauty was fierce and demanded undivided attention. She couldn’t focus either. She looked at the stars, not for their beauty, but for adventure. She looked at them as a guide.

I felt her hot blood in her embrace, she had to move to keep cool. There was rarely a still moment. Always dancing. Always moving.

I guess that’s what attracted me to her. I made her my adventure. I wanted to see what she had seen. I told her I was happy where I was but in reality I wanted to go everywhere she went. Wherever the stars would take her.

My lips only met hers when she was drunk. Perhaps she didn’t want to remember showing a little bit of emotion, being a bit vulnerable in front of me. But even then she rarely shared her thoughts with me.

So her secrets are still with her, while she knows mine.

That wild girl, may I never hold her again. She said she didn’t like it. She wanted to feel liberated. And my arms didn’t offer her that.

The girl with a storm in her heart had started a fire in mine and left.

I look out the window, where she had been standing. I almost smiled. What was I thinking?  Thinking I could fix her? Whether I love her or hate her, it makes no difference because she’s not here. She’s not coming back.

I will never know what exactly she wanted with me. But I’ll grow wiser from this.

You can’t teach someone who’s power hungry to surrender. You can’t mould someone who despises being held. You can’t put out a wild fire. Don’t try to pick wild flowers, because their thorns will pierce your skin and then they will wither because of your blood. But their scent will linger forever.

Now I know. You can’t tame someone who is wild. You shouldn’t offer your heart to someone who has sold her soul to adventure.

Don’t try to love someone who can’t be still.

 

News Archive

The mysterious origins and problematic significance of the Postamble
2014-10-20



Prof André du Toit (UCT) and Prof Pieter Duvenhage (UFS)
Emeritus professor from UCT’s Department of Political Studies, Prof André du Toit, delivered a presentation at the Bloemfontein Campus on 14, 15 and 16 October 2014 respectively. His presentations gave an in-depth exploration of the Postamble as founding text of the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC).

This event was hosted by the Institute for Reconciliation and Social Justice, in collaboration with the Department of Philosophy.

Prof Du Toit’s papers were entitled:
•    A Need for Truth: Amnesty and the Origins and Consequences of the TRC Process.
•    Tracking down a belated and inconclusive amnesty pact: The obscure origins and problematic significance of the 'Postamble' as founding text of the TRC process (Part 1 and 2).

In his presentations he explored how the text of the Postamble came to be written. He also scrutinised the respective contributions of those who were involved in drafting the text. The significance of the Postamble – as it is understood in its historical context – was also a point of discussion.

Prof Du Toit raised some thought-provoking questions during the three days. What is the relation of the amnesty provision of the Postamble with the subsequent TRC amnesty process? How did a text without any particular reference to a truth commission come to function as founding text and discursive framework for the TRC?

He also investigated some of the main problems with the history and significance of the Postamble, as well as its mysterious origins. In addition, Prof Du Toit conducted a critical analysis of a set of newly-identified drafts of the text.

One of Prof Du Toit’s most substantive inquiries, though, was into the question: Was the amnesty provision of the Postamble the product of an underlying amnesty ‘pact’ between the NP government and the ANC?


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