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12 December 2018 | Story Khetiwe Dlamini

LOVE IN SPACE

I wake up, confused, in pain. I am not dead, right? No. I highly doubt there are airplane seats in heaven. And the bulky man snoring next to me is most certainly not an angel. I rub sleep off my eyes and look around. No doubt, I am in an airplane and still in Haruto’s Kung Fu suit.

 

Haruto. My heart drops, taking my mood down with it. I am tempted to slap the man snoring awake because he sounds like a truck is driving up his throat.

“We urge all passengers to fasten their seatbelts as we are about to land in Johannesburg,” the air host announces.

 

But I am supposed to be dead. I was angry because I didn’t get to see Haruto before he died. So I decided to leave the rude Russian man’s factory where we had been practically slaves. On my way out, one of the Russian man’s cronies shot me. So, I am supposed to be dead.

 

Death was supposed to take away this ache in my heart that worsens every time Haruto’s suit moves against my skin. It’s not fair. Why does it get to touch me in places Haruto will never get to touch? He’s been dead for months and yet he breathes and walks in my mind. He makes sarcastic remarks and always has a smart retort to anything I say. When I make a joke he never laughs, just stares at me with a smile as slanted as his eyes, and rakes his fingers through his long charcoal hair. I long to feel him, feel the warmth of his husky voice against my ear as he tells me that my skin reminds him of toffee mixed with a spoon of the sweetest chocolate ever formed.

 

The plane comes to a slow halt, swiftly dragging me out of my thoughts. I wait for most of the passengers to leave before I open the overhead carrier to look if I have any luggage. I do: a worn-out bag with a book on the history of Africans in Asia. There is another much thinner book with the word ‘Bible’ scribbled across the first page since it lacks a cover. A folded piece of paper and a toffee wrapper with a smiley face on it are also in the bag. I close the bag hurriedly when I spot one of the flight attendants heading in my direction. She is tall with hair the colour of ripe tomatoes. Brown freckles, like banana seeds, are splattered across her cheeks. She asks if I’m okay and I nod and clutch my bag close to my chest.

 

“Do you know where this flight is from?” I fail to suppress my confusion.

 

“Tokyo, Japan,” she answers, the clear loop in her hand gulping up wrappers and bottles like a greedy child devouring candy.

 

“Do you by any chance have an idea of how I got on it?”

 

She smiles sadly and shakes her head. “Maybe someone is waiting for you outside. Some of the other passengers were wondering the same thing but once they got outside someone assisted them.”

 

“Okay,” I said. She won’t understand. The last person I knew and trusted died months ago. No one is waiting for me outside. I step into the aisle and walk to the front of the plane. Just before I get out I stop and turn back to the attendant wearing what looks like a pink plastic suit from a Star Wars movie.

 

“What day is it today?”

 

“28 June 2037,” she says with a smile.

 

She walks away with her mysterious cleaning loop. The railing supports my weight as I amble down and out of the plane. The sun is warm and bright, so I pause to give my eyes time to adjust. Once they have adjusted, what they see is remarkable. This is not the Johannesburg I know. If Atlantis ever existed, this would be it. The buildings are glossy and polished, as though someone with a large cloth took the time to shine each one of them to perfection. Cars with miniature wings like those of a jet fly around above me. There is no actual airport, no check-ins or scanning of passports or body searches.

 

“Thandekile!” a chirpy voice calls my name, and I turn around. It belongs to a short man with a rounded beard and blonde curly hair. “We have been expecting you.”

 

“Who are you and what am I doing here?” the words tumble out of my lips like angry water breaking from a dam.

 

“All will be explained when we get to The Lab. Please follow me,” blondie says with a smile as one of the car-jet thingies floats towards us. A staircase rolls out and we get inside. There are two compartments, each with two seats side by side. The driver is in the other compartment.

 

 “Why are you wearing plastic?” I ask him, and he seems surprised that I find his uniform surprising. He laughs. I don’t. He clears his throat and schools me, “This is not plastic. It’s carbon clothing. No washing stress. But clean. In fact, I am cleaner than you have ever been in your life. You will understand soon.”

 

The carriage comes to a quiet stop and the door opens. The driver heads out and I catch a glimpse of him from the side. His slight sideburns and lean figure shower me with a strange sense of nostalgia.

 

“Steve,” I say as he leads me to a huge building that stretches high into the heavens, “how am I still the same age if twenty years have passed? I mean, I died in 2017.” Steve looks at me briefly before responding, “Come along. Every question you have has an answer.”

 

At the entrance Steve steps into a clear square cubicle. A white robot takes my hand and leads me inside the building.

 

“Welcome to The Lab,” Robby says. “I am sure you will like it very much here. Now let’s get you sorted.”

 

Getting me sorted means taking a shower and being sent into a brightly lit room with DECONTAMINATION written outside. I sit naked on a chair that moves in and out of little cylinders, some with disease names on them. TB, AIDS, Malaria and Ebola are the only few I can recognise. Other cylinders are for behaviours: smoking, stealing, procrastination, laziness etc. I come out of the room clad in a pair of light blue pants and a white patterned form-fitting top.

 

“Now you are ready to see Boss,” Robby leads me to the elevator. The elevator door opens into a large office. Boss, a surprisingly large Indian man, smiles at me as he stands up to give me an embrace. “Thandekile, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

 

I look at my other hand and there is a watch inside my wrist. I cannot feel it. Even the clothes on my body feel like my own skin.

 

 “You will get used to everything soon. I am Sai Chetty, but you can call me Boss.”

 

For the first time since my arrival, I smile.

 

“I can imagine you want to know why you are here.”

 

I nod, still standing, keeping the earthly rules of respecting another man’s home by never giving yourself a seat. Finally Boss invites me to sit down, and presses a button on his table and pictures of different parts of the world pop up. Melted glaziers, contaminated rivers and lakes, polluted cities. He says this is the world as we know it, but we have it in us to change things. He presses another button on his desk and pictures of what I saw outside on the way here show up. Green fields, clear blue waters, tall buildings, happy birds and happy people.

 

“You and thousands of other young people from around the world will be responsible for making this new world come true. You are here to learn the science of a clean environment. Over the next two years myself and other professors will equip you with all the skills you need to complete this enormous task. Then we will send you back into different parts of the world to effect change. Your first lesson is tomorrow. For now, however, a special young man sacrificed his classes to help you get settled in. Haruto, come on in.”

 

My mind snaps back into focus and I turn around. And no doubt there he is, wearing the same outfit as the driver from earlier, and as handsome as I remember him. He walks towards me and gets so close I must look up to see his face. For a second, we are back in the past, tripping, tumbling and falling dangerously in love.  A slight smile touches his face. A breath breaks itself from my lungs, rushes out of my lips, leaves me dizzy.

 

“Hey,” he says, his voice mysterious and husky. He pulls me against his chest and buries his head in my hair. He smells different, feels familiar, a childhood memory that is as vivid as it is vague.

 

“I’ve missed you,” he says, his lips against my forehead.

 

“You still remember me?” I whisper, seeking assurance.

 

“A million years into the future and I would still remember you,” he hasn’t lost his charm. Our eyes meet, and it feels like they never parted. He smiles. I smile back. His fingers weave through my afro as mine dig into his shirt. The earth stops spinning and the room holds its breath when his lips touch mine. Softly at first and then desperately, as if I’m slipping away. I kiss him back, fists digging into his abs. Seconds pass and I wish I could take each one and store it somewhere only we would know. I inhale deeply. He begins to pull away but I hold him in place, desperate to capture this feeling coursing through my body, this water down a dry throat, coffee on a cold day, ice cream on a hot summer afternoon. Sensing my desperation, he laughs. The tremor of his laughter rushes through me and renders my knees useless. I stumble back, breaking the connection. His arm slips behind my back and he pulls me against his chest again. His irregular heartbeat is enthralling and ensnaring. I listen to it for a while before I begin laughing too.

 

“I love you so much,” I say into his chest, as if to address his heart directly. His arms tighten around my waist. I hug his neck and hold on with all that I am, his embrace just as tight. There is a lot I don’t know about this place. There is much to learn. Much to do. But with him by my side I know everything will make sense – if not scientifically, at least romantically.

 

News Archive

Position statement: Recent reporting in newspapers
2014-10-03

 

You may have read reports in two Afrikaans newspapers, regarding recent events at the University of the Free State (UFS). Sadly, those reports are inaccurate, one-sided, exaggerated and based not on facts, but on rumour, gossip and unusually personal attacks on members of the university management.

Anyone who spends 10 minutes on our Bloemfontein Campus would wonder what the so-called ‘crisis’ is about.

We are left with no choice other than to consider legal action, as well as the intervention of the South African Press Ombudsman, among other steps, to protect the good name of the institution and the reputation of its staff. No journalist has the right to launch personal and damaging attacks on a university and its personnel, whatever his or her motives, without being fair and factual. In this respect, the newspapers have a case to answer.

But here are the facts in relation to the reports:

  1. No staff member, whether junior or senior, is ever suspended without hard evidence in hand. Such actions are rare, and when done, are preceded by careful reviews of our Human Resource Policies, labour legislation and both internal and external legal advice. Then, and only then, is a suspension affected. A suspension, moreover, does not mean you are guilty and is a precautionary action to allow for the disciplinary investigation and process to be conducted, especially where there is a serious case to answer.
  2. At no stage was the Registrar instructed to leave the university; this is patently false and yet reported as fact. We specifically responded to the media that the Registrar does outstanding work for the university and that it is our intention for him to remain as our Registrar through the end of his contract in 2016.
  3. The Rector does not make decisions by himself. Senior persons, from the position of Dean, upwards, are appointed by statutory and other senior committees of the university and finally approved by Council. No rector can override the decision of a senior committee, and this has not happened at the UFS even in cases where the Rector serves as Chair of that committee. The impression of heavy-handed management at the top insults all our committee structures, including the Institutional Forum – the widest and most inclusive of stakeholder bodies at a university – which reports directly to Council on fairness and compliance of selection processes.
  4. In the case of senior appointments, Council makes the final decision. Council fully supports the actions taken on senior appointments, including a recent senior suspension. The fact that one Council member resigns just before the end of his term, whatever the real reason for this action, does not deter from the fact that the full Council in its last sitting approved the major staffing decisions brought before it. The image therefore that the two newspapers try to create of great turmoil and distress at the university, is completely unfounded.

Even if we wanted to, the university obviously cannot provide details about staffing decisions, especially disciplinary actions in process, since the rights of individuals should be protected in terms of the Human Resource Policies and procedures of the UFS. But that does not give any newspaper the right to speculate or state as fact that which is based on rumour or gossip, or to slander senior personnel of the university. For these reasons, we have been forced to seek legal remedy and correction as a matter of urgency.

Make no mistake, underlying much of the criticism of the university has been a distress about transformation at the UFS; in particular, the perception is created that white colleagues are losing their jobs. The evidence points in the opposite direction. Our progress with equity has been slow and we lag far behind most of the former white universities; that is a fact. More than 90% of our professors are white; most of our senior appointments at professorial level and as heads of department are still overwhelmingly white. Reasonable South Africans would agree that our transformation still has a long way to go and only the mean-spirited would contend otherwise. But based on the two Afrikaans newspaper reports, an impression is left of the aggressive rooting out of white colleagues.

In the past few years the academic standard of the university has significantly improved. We now have the highest academic pass rates in years, in part because we raised the academic standards for admission four years ago. We now have the highest rate of research publications, and among the highest national publication rate of scholarly books, in the history of the UFS. We have one of the most stable financial situations of any university in South Africa, with a strong balance sheet and growing financial reserves way beyond what we had before. We now attract top professors from around the country and other parts of the world, and we have the highest number of rated researchers, through the National Research Foundation, than ever before. And after the constant turmoil of a number of years ago, we now have one of the most stable campuses in South Africa. Those are the facts.

The UFS is also regarded around the world as a university that has become a model of transformation and reconciliation in the student body. The elections of our Student Representative Council are only the most visible example of how far we have come in our leadership diversity. Not a week goes by in which other universities, nationally and abroad, do not come to Kovsies to consult with us on how they can learn from us and deepen their own transformations, especially among students.

Rather than focus on what more than one senior journalist, in reference to the article in Rapport of 21 September 2014, rightly called ‘a hatchet job’ on persons and the university, here are the objective findings of a recent survey of UFS stakeholders: 92% endorse our values; 77% agree with our transformation; 78% believe we are inclusive; and 78% applaud our overall reputation index.  Those are very different numbers from a few years ago when the institution was in crisis.

This is our commitment to all our stakeholders: we will continue our model of inclusive transformation which provides opportunities for study and for employment for all South Africans, including international students and colleagues. We remain committed to our parallel-medium instruction in which Afrikaans remains a language of instruction; we are in fact the only medical school in the country that offers dual education and training in both Afrikaans and English for our students - not only English. We provide bursaries and overseas study opportunities to all our students, irrespective of race. And our ‘future professors’ programme is richly diverse as we seek the academic stars of the future.

We are not perfect as a university management or community. Where we make mistakes, we acknowledge them and try to do better the next time round. But we remain steadfast in our goal of making the UFS a top world university in its academic ambitions and its human commitments.

END

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