Dropping Your Guard ©

by Trevor S

The problem with public holidays in this country is that they make you drop your guard.

 “I wonder if there is an e-mail from Lynn?”

Scrolling through the spam-cluttered e-mails in the in-box, I look for the only one that matters at the moment. Lynn, my youngest daughter, is in Scotland, a member of the South African Highland Dancing team that is dancing at the Edinburgh Military Tattoo. She regularly sends us lively e-mail messages about the practices that the team is doing, about how beautiful and vibrant Edinburgh and the Fringe is, and how much fun she is having. She is only 18 years old, and we miss her terribly.

There is no e-mail from her. I wonder if she remembers that it is a public holiday here?

National Women’s Day in South Africa is a day on which women’s resistance to the old apartheid ‘pass laws’ is commemorated. It is a celebration of freedom.  The mid-week holiday is welcome, and my wife Carol, and daughter Colleen and I, plan to use it for relaxation, starting with a late sleep-in.  I plan to use it to finalise our plans to travel to Scotland to watch Lynn and the South African team dance at ‘The Tattoo’.

I settle down front of the computer, I open the folder that contains the details about our trip to Scotland, and I am soon in planning. My meticulous planning of the trip is a source of amusement for Carol and Colleen, as is my obsession with making sure that all t’s are crossed and i’s dotted.

Living in South Africa, is stressful. Crime, particularly the ever-present threats to personal safety, has forced me into a perpetual state of heightened vigilance and attention to detail in all that I do. Nothing is left to chance in our daily lives.

The day slowly unwinds. We potter in the garden, do household chores, play games on the computer, read our books, eat whenever we feel like it, and enjoy a calm and pleasant time together behind our high concrete garden wall, and gates.

All too soon it is evening, and we eat our evening meal in front of the television.  

“We feel like doughnuts!” says Colleen.  

“Where am I supposed to find doughnuts on a public holiday?”