It was a grey, drizzling, overcast day in the heart of the winter. Mel Steyn shrugged his shoulders, as a shiver passed through him created by a gusty breeze shifting some of the wetness dripping from the low clouds, onto the nape of his exposed neck. It was not the ideal day to wear a suit, not the ideal day for anything. Death, the loss of some-one precious was never going to be an occasion that warranted any other emotions than that of grief and remorse.
Enclosed in Mel’s left hand was another hand, a much smaller hand; the softer, warmer hand of his six year old son Christopher.
“Why are we here daddy?”
The question froze in Mel’s thoughts for a few seconds as they walked with slow steps between the marble stones toward the open stretch of earth a few meters ahead. Mel did not want to answer the question; did want his feet to move toward the dirt hole in the ground; most of all he dreaded the cold, realistic finality cemented in the lowering of the coffin.
“We are here to say goodbye to mommy”
The words threatened to bring back the tears. Mel fought hard to contain them; fought hard to keep up the front of strength for Christopher’s sake although, it seemed his world, the life he had, belonged to some-one else. This depressed, broken person was a stranger compelled to find roots in a future that appeared as bleak as today.
“Aunty Grace said she is going to live by God now… why daddy?”
Mel dropped to kneel on one knee so that he could look into Christopher’s brown eyes. Behind them the rest of the funeral progression pass-by in a predominately black wave of solemn pedestrians.
“Remember Ticky, the puppy daddy gave you last year, when he got sick and…remember daddy had to bury him in the garden and mommy told you when you cried that Ticky was in puppy heaven. Well mommy got sick as well so today they are going to bury mommy so that she can live in a heaven where all the humans live”
Christopher stared back into his father’s eyes. He was truly puzzled.
“If daddy goes to heaven will daddy take me with?”
Mel stood erect. The others were gathering together by the open grave. The coffin; the preacher were waiting. Christopher’s questions, too, had to wait.
“Come everyone is waiting for us”
“I can’t do this anymore Annie….I can’t deal with Christopher’s confusion, the looks and words of sympathy. I have to get away for awhile…from here…from everything!”
They were sitting in Annie’s lounge, brother and sister, alone, while Christopher was playing in the bedroom with Annie’s kids, their innocent laughter clashing with the remnants left behind in the empty tea cups and saucers with scarps of milk-tart and crumbles of cake.
”Of course Mel take as much time as you need. We’ll take care of Christopher.”
Mel stood up and walked over to embrace Annie who stood three feet shorter.
“How much time is it going to take sis….how much time is it going to take to find a reason to move on with my life?”
Mel packed a luggage bag on the bed, in the bedroom that no longer represented anything other than a furnished room. He zipped the bag, lifted his head, his eyes catching the reflection in the dressing table mirror. Some-one with baggy, tired eyes, stubble of facial hair, unruly black curls stared back at him.
“Is there something you want to say….maybe why you didn’t go with her to the 7 Eleven that night….she might not have got shot….might still be alive today….answer me damn-it answer me!”
The silence was too powerful, the answers painstaking elusive, the reflection in the mirror a haunting, judgmental image. Hands that weren’t his anymore lifted the woven lamp off the bedside table, ripping it from the socket, flinging it with eruptive emotions at the unknown person in the mirror.
Mel traveled with a rental Mazda along Rheenendal road toward Millwood Goldmine toward a rural plantation forest on the outskirts of Knysna, a town at the end of the Garden Route in the Western Cape. Annie had suggested the secluded log cabins on stilts built on the edge of a gorge, where he could spend time alone on the deck or take a walk on one of the forest trails. He pulled the rental beneath the shade of a Pecan tree in the parking of the reception area, surveying the surroundings as he went to book in and fetch the key to the cabin. To his left a slatted wooden boardwalk extended through the trees to the log cabins; to the retreat that was supposed to heal the pain, rid the ghosts of the past few days.
In the cabin Mel sorted through the groceries purchased in Knysna, stacked the fridge and cupboards and when he was done he tossed the luggage bag alongside the bed. It was early evening; the setting sun casting, through the open window, streaks of lengthening shadows and fading warmth. Sleep that was previously avoided, sometimes willingly, more often than not involuntary, finally caught up to Mel, as he slumped onto the mattress and slept a straight twenty three hours.
He awoke to a gentle knock on the door. Still groggy Mel lifted himself from the bed, stepped through the kitchen and opened the door.
“Hello. I’m Nancy if you need clothes that needs to be washed and ironed or just some-one to show you the best views I can do it all for a small donation”
Mel squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light outside. Her words, although friendly and fresh, floated aimlessly through his awakening conscious.
“No thanks”
Mel replied yet the smiling stranger remained standing on the wooden deck.
“If you change your mind you can ask for me at reception. Enjoy your stay”
She turned, skipped lightly down the steps leading to the deck, onto the boardwalk, swinging her slender arms. Mel shook his head and shut the door.
There was something else that Mel could not shut out; an immense appetite-less desire for something to eat. He went through the motions of frying a few eggs and sausages, unpacking his bag, climbing into the shower afterwards, combing his dark curls, brushing his teeth, shaving his face with an enthusiasm that was not easy to find. Dressed in a flannel shirt and tracksuit pants Mel made himself coffee taking it to the deck. He leaned with his elbows against the deck’s railing, sipping the coffee, listening to the sounds that claimed the moonlit night. The ache was still there, lodged firmly between his abdomen and upper chest; a pulsating, strangling, clinging, persistent monster.
Struggling with the demons that shared the night Mel woke the following morning with an urge to escape the confinements of the cabin. The air held a fresh nippiness, the trees protruding through a thin layer of mist, frosty dew drops washed the earth with sheets of wetness. His feet covered in a pair of old sneakers Mel jogged in the same t-shirt and tracksuit pants along the boardwalk, reaching the end of it, across an open stretch of field toward the straighter path leading from the belly of the gorge, between the forest trees, up a steady incline. It was at the tip of the incline on the ridge, where the trees thinned out, that Mel stopped for a few minutes to catch his breath. The flutter of a piece of material caught his attention and as he looked closer between the two smaller trees perched on the ridge he saw that the fluttering material was a dress attached to the pretty woman who had knocked on his door the previous day.
Mel stepped closer. He was curious to see what she was up to, on her own, five-thirty in the morning.
Within a few feet from her, her back turned to him, her attention set on the plantation on the other side of the ridge, her shoulder length auburn hair lifted slightly by the same breeze blowing her white cotton dress, Mel purposely scraped the stony dirt beneath his foot as to make her aware of his presence, for she stood on a boulder so close to the edge of the ridge, Mel feared his sudden appearance might be enough of a fright to cause her to lose her balance and stumble down the other side of it.
At the sound he intended to create she turned her head and looked at him with eyes that were filled with light and warmth and wonder. The smile her full lips displayed instantly reappeared.
“Morning…have you come to see the rise of the sun as well? It’s not far off….just behind that crest over there…”
She pointed in an easterly direction where the valley dipped, from the point on which they stood, to where it rose gradually just beyond a river, beyond a couple of clay baked huts where smoke drifted lazily from chimneys.
“It’s Nancy isn’t it?”
“You remembered. You never told me your name”
”Mel. Sorry I was so abrupt yesterday. Do you mind if I sit my calves are complaining from the unexpected torture I put them through?”
Her smile stretched a bit further.
“There was pain a lot of it. I could see it in your eyes. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We can just sit here and wait for the sun if you like?”
She sat next to him on a rocky surface.
“I rather not talk about it because I came here to try and forget”
They sat in a few minutes of silence as the first glow of the sun tipped the crest of the ridge to the east.
“It’s coming”
She said breaking the silence.
“You really are passionate about this aren’t you?”
Her smile dipped slightly,
“Of course…because its one of the greatest miracles of life. I come here every morning to show my appreciation!”
Mel considered once or twice was normal but each and every day well that didn’t seem so normal. He caught a glimpse of her face lighting up once again as the glow on the ridge spread like welcoming arms.
“Life in my opinion doesn’t always deserve that much appreciation.”
“Maybe but when its not there anymore I think we wish we had taken as much of its goodness while we had the chance and less of its ugliness”
Mel thought she truly had no idea how ugly life could get. So dreadful it consumed all the goodness. The idea that she found it sweet and righteous created a resentful feeling deep within him.
“My wife was shot and killed in an armed robbery. My son doesn’t have a mother anymore so perhaps you can see why it’s difficult for me to find anything to appreciate!”
Mel stood erect with the intention to return to his cabin. Nancy stood as well.
“I’m so sorry for you Mel but you still can find a reason to move on”
“What do you know Nancy…how the hell could you know?”
Mel replied with a bite of sarcasm and bitterness.
“Through your son Mel… he has the sun inside of him. You just have to look….wait for the sunlight to appear and over time it will warm and heal your heart!
Mel began to walk away from her.
“You think it’s that simple Nancy facing death….trying to replace it with something else. Don’t be so naïve!”
Across Nancy’s shoulder Mel caught a glimpse of the sunlight. Once more it caused him to squint.
“I’m not naïve I know…. because it’s waiting for me. I am dying Mel. I have at least three months left before the darkness comes!”
Mel arrived back at Annie’s place the following afternoon. Christopher ran and hugged him and for a brief second or two he could swear he saw a flicker of light.
In South Africa today security plays a vital part in any business or private home. This book and the volumes to follow, will guide you step by step through the essential precautionary measures to be taken in protecting your family and valuables. From employing security guards, evacuation of your site and security measures to burglar bars and alarms in your private home.
a Book compiled by me from experience gained after 10 years in the security industry as Industrial relations officer with Nosa qualifications, 1st Aid, fire protection and also S.O.B. grade A.
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