The mythology of a demon without power in its genre


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It has been a busy week. My story was published, giving me the opportunity to speak to so many people both at conferences and in the media. I was interviewed by the music corporation to explain the significance of the story and was asked if I would consider writing a song for the corporation. In a nation, we might say, where the politics and the economy are controlled by powerful people, I was amazed that a corporation was interested in my story. I was told that this story was worth millions because of the potential to be developed from it, so that my credibility would increase. That struck me as a valid strategy as long as the story didn't drift into being a narcissistic marketing tool for the corporation instead of informing the audience.

Then a man who I knew from the local newspaper in my town asked me if I would take a photograph with him after he had just asked me not to do so. It was the same week that the Minister of the Media called me and later the same week that I was called a fool by my own father. Sometimes the truth is a knife. Sometimes the truth is a boomerang. Sometimes it is a bomb.

In the end there are three truths. First truth is that I left the telephone. Second truth is that I am a fool. And third truth is that after the Truth Commission started Pia, the journalist, and I became close again. We are now like brother and sister.

I started to call her, but sometimes she was with her mother or her friend, or even her ex-husband Professor Metzger and his wife. I decided to wait for her.

I went to the local bar and called Pia. It was very busy and she was not there. I left a message.

I went to the local supermarket and found my way to the pre-paid phone booth. There was a message that Pia had left and she wanted to speak to me. On the other end of the line she told me that she had left the message earlier that morning. She had had an argument with Metzger. I told myself that it was good that she had left me a message and that she had contacted me. She could have used another channel to speak with me.

Two women went by and smiled at me, perhaps thinking that I was waiting for someone and that I had been stood up. I smiled back. I couldn't remember meeting them before on a one-on-one basis. Maybe I had seen them together at the coffee shop. I thought that they were very beautiful. Then I thought that it would be good for people to see me there with them as opposed to being stood up. I wondered if I should switch on my mobile phone in case she was trying to contact me again. I felt very vulnerable. I knew that when I called her she could be away from her phone. I decided to switch off my phone. I thought that if I had set up my mobile phone to only play the messages, she could have been trying to call me at any time and I would not have known it. After Pia left me the message on Saturday morning, I must have switched off my phone.

Then I started to think, who should I call if I wanted to get in contact with Pia Metzger. The only person that I knew that she would know who would contact her was Professor Melasis. Knowing Melasis, who would not have a mobile phone, he might be on the other side of the South African fynbos. She would have to get in touch with him.

So I called him. He answered the phone on the other end but I was not sure that it was him. I asked if I could call Pia and he said yes in his English way. So I called her. She was not in her house at the moment. I left my mobile number and a wish to speak with her again and to have a good evening.

Then I entered the telephone booth again because I didn't want the two women to see me. The phone at the other end was ringing. When Pia answered the phone, I said, "This is a good thing you did, even if you made me wait for a few days." I was so relieved she had tried to contact me.

She said, "Yes, my hairdresser did it for me. It was a good idea and I would never have had the nerve to do it."

"I'm glad you did," I said. "You look very beautiful with your hair short.

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