#fivestrayminutes – Page 4 – five stray minutes

Brief exchange

Published on September 3, 2019 by Allison WrightLeave a comment

I saw my neighbour with his small tractor and trailer taking old furniture to the communal rubbish bin this afternoon. When he returned, I hailed him.

He stopped on the other side of the road. I stood inside my gate and told him the latest news. He could not hear me above the noise of the engine so he just turned of the ignition in the middle of the road.

A car behind him slowed down and overtook him.

It was a brief exchange. He started up his engine again and went on his way. My nostrils flared at the smell of diesel. They always do.

Osten

Published on September 2, 2019September 2, 2019 by Andrea Bernard2 Comments

Mein Herz blutet. Das Leben ist nicht fair, und es ist auch nicht schwarz-weiß. Ich habe mein Land verlassen, damals, als die Mauer weg war. Und wusste nicht, dass ich niemals würde zurückkehren können.

Das Land gibt es nicht mehr, es wurde abgeschafft, auf den Schrotthaufen der Geschichte geworfen. Ein ausgedientes Modell, bankrott, umstellt, ausgelaugt, überaltert, verknöchert. Alternativlos entsorgt.

Die Menschen aber, die gibt es noch. Und sie tragen das Land in sich. Ich auch.

Weit bin ich gegangen in meiner NEUgierde, und habe dadurch so viel mehr über meine Herkunft erfahren.

Was, wenn ich geblieben wäre, so wie andere? Wer wäre ich heute? Was ich in den Medien lese, tut mir in der Seele weh. Das Leben ist nicht schwarz oder weiß, die Menschen auch nicht. Ich würde gerne ein Buch schreiben, die Vielfalt meines Heimatlandes, meiner Mitmenschen und ihrer Schicksale festhalten und sichtbar, verstehbar machen.

Sawdust

Published on September 2, 2019 by Allison WrightLeave a comment

Pine chest upon pine chest were stacked taller than I in our “end room”, the one with a door to the back, with its lean-to shelter and concrete flooring. That is where Kunaka and João worked outside on the weekends.

They planed by hand and sanded by hand, and did everything by hand. The timber was sanded so finely. I loved the smell of the sawdust, its fine softness.

I was inside, sewing velvet interiors for the jewellery boxes they made.

Kunaka had a club foot, but he had a bicycle. João’s eyesight was failing, but she would not let me screw the screws in, and so often struggled to fix the screwdriver in the screw slot – using both hands.

I had to let her do it. I was not allowed to say anything about her shaking MS hands.

Each chest took between eight and twelve layers of varnish and the colour was especially blended by João, from several different tins. That was twenty years ago, so it was.

I am keeping one, as I step into my new life. She and I called it “Mega” to tell it apart from all the others.

Being here

Published on September 2, 2019September 2, 2019 by Allison Wright1 Comment

The house I saw today — where I hope to be able to move to — is at almost the same degree of latitude as my current abode.

Almost is relative. I love maps. So I can tell you now that the two town centres (as opposed to actual locations of the relative dwellings) are separated by 0°2’38” latitude (that’s 0 degrees, 2 minutes and 38 seconds).

The distance that miniscule difference in latitude represents equates to 3.026894 miles, or 4.871314 kilometres.

But when someone calls me and says, “Where are you?”, I simply answer, “I am here”.

The best

Published on August 31, 2019August 31, 2019 by Allison WrightLeave a comment

“I’m the best lesbian,” Cath announced suddenly, as she sipped her mug of coffee, sitting with her feet up on the three-seater Queen Ann couch they had had recovered in dark blue denim.

“Says who?!”

Andrea sat down in the remaining space at the end of the couch.

“My mother. That’s what she told her friend Vanda. Her daughter, Tália, was also lesbian. They were so competitive, those two. I heard them, one day in my twenties, discussing who was the best lesbian. My mother won the argument, as usual.”

“Well, that’s that then,” said Andrea, slurping her coffee, grinning.

Shades

Published on August 30, 2019 by Allison WrightLeave a comment

It was so bright today, I went back inside to get my Jacaru Aussie leather hat and sunglasses. The one and only pair of shades I have ever had. When I bought them four years ago, people said I looked like Agent Smith from The Matrix movie.

The image was a selfie of me deadpan, not smiling, deadly serious.

Today, the hat and shades took the heat off when I went walking. And I was smiling. No selfie. I’m used to the shades now.

Speakeasy

Published on August 29, 2019August 31, 2019 by Allison Wright3 Comments

Downtown Johannesburg back in the day. Oh yes, late on Thursday nights through the arcade, down two flights of stairs, through the padded black swing doors, with the bodyguard’s muscles testing the limit of his too-small shirt.

It was not the booze that was illicit, but the company we kept. Apartheid, you know. There was Thandi riffing and bending on her alto sax in her high heels and fishnets, and dark frilly party dress. Her full lips needed no lipstick but she wore it anyway out of defiance.

We all listened, sitting squashed up cheek by jowl at small round tables, our legs crossed and wrapped round each other to save space. Early in the evening, a slow intro to Baker Street, with a slightly altered syncopated African beat. The drummer in his dark Ray Ban shades.

Andrea always liked a neat scotch on the rocks. The saxophone brought that risqué strand out in her.

Tonight there was a new woman there. She had ordered a beer but could not reach the bottle or the glass that the overworked waiter had put on the table.

Thandi was in full swing now flirting with the guy on the keyboard.

Andrea took that beer glass and held it at an angle, and slowly, as the sax did more bends with a vibrato flourish, poured the perfect slim beer for the woman eyeing her.

She handed her the beer silently, and lifted her own glass in a toast. That woman had lesbian eyes. It was too loud to say anything. Thandi was having a good night on the stage tonight. And how.

Traum

Published on August 29, 2019 by Andrea Bernard2 Comments

Ich steige in ein dunkles Kellerloch, getrieben von Angst und Neugier. Beim Umhertasten springt mich plötzlich eine Ratte an und lässt meinen Finger nicht mehr los. In Panik renne ich aus dem Keller, und als ich auf der Straße ankomme, habe ich an meiner Hand statt der Ratte einen Löwen. Er läuft langsam hinter mir her.

Ob der Löwe eine Bedrohung ist oder mich vor meiner Umgebung schützt, kann ich nicht sagen. Er gibt mir nicht zu verstehen, was er will oder denkt.

Ich fange an, wild durch die Gegend zu laufen und allen möglichen Leuten auf der Straße von meinem Problem zu erzählen. Aber sie hören mir entweder gar nicht zu oder verstehen mich nicht – jedenfalls scheint niemand den Löwen zu bemerken.

Immer ungläubiger laufe ich weiter und spreche wahllos Menschen an, um ihnen von dem Löwen zu erzählen, der offensichtlich gar nicht da ist. Aber wann immer ich mich umdrehe, sehe ich ihn deutlich, und er sieht mich an und scheint zu sagen, dass es ihn gibt und ich nichts dagegen tun kann …

Copyright 2019 Andrea Bernard

Volunteering, Strong on Your Feet

Published on August 29, 2019August 29, 2019 by Eleanor3 Comments

Volunteering takes many forms here in Australia. There are those who volunteer as firies (fire control officers), ambulance officers, in op shops (charity shops), teaching numeracy and literacy, and so on and so forth. At my age I don’t have the horsepower to join the volunteer fire brigade or volunteer sea rescue.

For quite a long time I volunteered on an adult literacy program. Nowadays, I volunteer with a group that works with the Senior Citizens in the community. We hold regular classes in which we teach the Seniors a series of exercises to strengthen their balance and so prevent falls.

As a trained Yoga teacher, I find this rewarding – although the exercises are not yoga asana, they make sense when viewed as appropriate for older people – some in their 90s. The program is put together by two physiotherapists who keep a close eye on the instructors.

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No words

Published on August 29, 2019September 4, 2019 by Anett Enzmann4 Comments

I haven’t written anything in a week. Well, I’ve been working, but my client’s enthusiastic announcement for their new game feature hardly seems significant, considering everything else that’s been going on, now does it?

Usually, I don’t get anxious reading the news. There is nothing I can do about it anyway.* But just looking at the unfathomable footage of the burning Amazon, the events unfolding in the UK, the US, and Germany, reading statements and comments, leaves me stunned, unbelieving, overwhelmed. What has gotten into you people?! When have we, as a species, descended into this kind of madness? Aren’t we supposed to be the smart ones? When have we decided to abandon all reason? And for what? A treacherous illusion of happiness, meaning, fulfillment? So we can live out our days gluttonously, comfortably and in what little comfort we can amass? Just so we can feel good about ourselves — or rather better than everyone else — we blindly believe those who offer easy solutions for complex problems, not realizing — or worse, accepting — that they are just as mad, just as scared as we are?

Seriously, what’s wrong with us?

Five minutes really isn’t a long time, but this had to be said nonetheless…

*Strictly speaking, that’s not even true. Vote. Sign petitions. Protest. Boycott. Donate.

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