Let them be... Just Children

Children are not just children

It seems

In Drommedaris, in the avenues, expressively on the streets

Mother’s decide

Who is good enough

Potential friends

Gracing the company of their little Angels

Tainted by an ethnic identity

It’s no game to decide the fate

Who will be present

At the next play date

Unless you come with a friend to your likeness

Isolation

No longer actively enforced by law

Apartheid

Alive and kicking

Practiced rapaciously

Amongst the poorest of the poor

How long will we wait

Battling to build change

Diversity our dream and hope

Or am I an optimist

Struggling with an idealism

Lost on the masses

Actively keeping score

Simone Naik Hagfeldt, 2016-01-23. Thank you for a lovely afternoon Boeta, we laugh, but the pain of hearing these stories threaten to spill the tears that always lingers shallow.

It’s not as empty as it seems?

It sometimes feels like I am always on the periphery of things. Just at the edge of the excitement or completely removed, so distanced that even if I was right in the middle of it, it still would not let me in. These things are not just interesting jobs or an exciting research project and even better still, the calm serenity of wise company, but infiltrates into the very basic fabric of everyday life like a cup of coffee with friends. Going hiking with old buddies. This feeling of being left out can make me feel crazy. One would think that at the age of almost 47 we learn how to deal with this kind of ‘out-sidedness’. Can I even use that as a word?

How does one begin to cope with this reality and create an alternative train of thought? How do you go about developing that thick skin that says: “I don’t care if I am on the outside, there is still room to learn about what they are talking about”. At other times it might actually just be easier to say, “Ok, I will knock on the door and ask to get in and learn more about what they are talking about and see if there in an opportunity to inform the conversation or be informed by the conversation.

Perhaps even just writing about this feeling is enough to deal with the instant panic it brings about. Now is maybe not the time to panic, but to rather have that inner conversation that says, “move on, there will be exciting things to do and places to see if you are not looking too hard or fighting so much against the empty space in your life, that is perchance not ‘empty’, but filled with a cosmos to create, learn and live!”

The voice of gentle Giant rests

The voice

Of a gentle Genius

Quiet forever

The father of Philida

Historically correct

Politically

Said

With respect

The voice

Of a gentle Genius

Captured forever

The creator of A Dry White Season

Leader of the Sestigers

Lover, Father, Professor

Your gifts to the world

Growing in our hearts

The voice

Of a gentle Genius

Lives forever

The giver of Before I forget

Takes his last bow

Visionary, Interpreter, Liberator

Vacant we find your place

We can only hope to follow in that narrow space

In memory of Writer Professor Andre P. Brink, by Simone Beatrice Naik Hagfeldt, 2015-02-07.

Die stem van ‘n Groot Gees rus

Die stem

Van ʼn groot Gees

Verewig still

Die vader van Philida

Histories korrek

Polities

Gesê

Met respek

Die stem

Van ʼn groot Gees

Verewig vasgevang

Die skepper ʼn Droë Wit Seisoen

Voorloper van die Sestigers

Minnaar, Vader, Professor

Jou geskenke aan die wêreld

Leef in harte voort

Die stem

Van ʼn groot Gees

Leef verewig

Die gewer van Kennis van die aand

Maak sy laaste buiging

Leier, tolk, oorwinnaar

Jou plek staan voortaan leeg

Ons kan net hoop om te volg in daai noue steeg

Ter nagedagtenis aan Skrywer Prof. Andre P. Brink deur Simone Beatrice Naik Hagfeldt, 2015-02-07.

Hot and Cold - Here and There

Icy rain knocks on the sky roof all day. I do not dare to venture out. Winter gradually locks me in. Shifting between a little more than four walls, cooking beef curry, brewing tea and mulling over new ideas.

From the other end of the world I hear about the relentless baking sun. The beating heat of high summer is conjured in my mind. We are sitting around under a shady tree, anticipating sunset, licking the soothing pleasure of a pineapple sucker.  I am sympathetic and envious! How about sending me some of that heat?

In another corner of the day, a victim’s pain reaches me. Family violence, publically executed, seemingly there are no consequences for the perpetrator. How does he live with his guilt? Another hit from the meth pipe? Are they all just victim’s creating more victims surviving on the expectations of an hourly philosophy? Almost succeeding in shattering dreams and toying with an idealists’ reality.

On the other end of the world I can only listen and understand. It is easy to sit on the sidewalk watching the spectacle of pain. A deep sadness descends. Tragedy is no longer something ‘out there’ it makes us reel in the pain of memory.  I dare to share some soothing words. Calming down frayed nerves, nurturing empathy, strengthening resolves. Hoping that we all learn something new in the recurring cycle of each day.

Simone Beatrice Naik Hagfeldt, 2015-01-29.