Sitting on a rock at Waters Edge. Contemplating life.
Its beauty. Its cruelty. Its unity. Its disparity.
Feeling equal parts helplessness and hopelessness, anger and apathy.
The foundations of the home I hold so dear to me is crumbling. The country that chose me, and in turn I it.
There is an ache deep in my heart. The kind that is begging to hear that everything is going to be okay. “Fight or flight” is on everyone’s mind at the moment, everyone who has the means for flight that is. And that’s okay. It’s a reaction that occurs in the presence of something terrifying. This week was terrifying. As a woman, a mother, a South African – I am terrified. I am also tired. Tired of hopelessness. Tired of apathy. I’ll admit to it. The usual story with every horrific crime is where did it happen? If it’s not in our back yard or affects our daily life or is not specifically relatable, it’s not our problem.
Uyinene Mrwetyana’ tragic death transcended the usual excuses apathy afforded and has mobilised the fight we all have inside of us. Every single one of us has those mundane, yet necessary errands to run. This week, Uyinene Mrwetyana must know that she has transformed the landscape of mundane to extraordinary. A simple errand has ignited a movement.
My pride is bleeding out, but my patriotism is not dead.
This was written Monday 18th March in my personal journal on Evernote. I hadn’t planned on publishing it, but then after a few days I reconsidered as this is essentially the purpose of this Perfectly Sorted blog site. It’s the fact that I am not. My writing, this site, is based on values of authenticity and honesty.