“Should we let him out?” Nathan nervously asks. “I don’t know, I don’t really want to do anything”, I reply guiltily sinking into the car seat. “We have to do something. He’s blind for god sake!” more

It was a day like any other. I wanted love, I wanted cake and I wanted attention. As most juicy stories do, it started with attention and above all, cake. It is thus that I try to blame the whole debacle on my boyfriend Nathan, the cheek– taking me out for breakfast-cake in the early morning hours. I’m in the middle of exams, dammit, I should be locked up studying!

(The cake was, however, one of those where the first moment of impact between frosting and tooth sets loose an explosion of happy hormones. God, I love good carrot cake and I might just love Nathan more for feeding it to me.)

But I digress, merely that you know it happened in a context as such of thousands of sugar-amphetamine molecules pumping through my system. I didn’t want to entrap the blind man. No matter what anyone says, I swear I didn’t consciously lock him in our yard.

Driving home we stopped at the gate. He was walking past, guiding his way by holding on to the fence. I had to make a decision. Open the gate and leave the man to find his way, blindly, or wait. Do I disable him by waiting for him to pass? What's the politically correct thing to do? If only I could remember my 'sensitivity' class in primary school! Adding to my inner turmoil, an old lady emerged in the doorway of the apartment building as though a mirage, staring at the man as intently as I was, as if waiting for the gate to open. Too much pressure! People! Ethics! Morals! Thinking is hard!

I close my eyes, switch to autopilot pressed the button.

He dwindled straight into the property as though knowing exactly where he was going, walking towards the driver’s side of a parked car. For a moment it all made sense: the old lady waiting for him, him walking to his car just to quickly fetch his wallet or phone...

Oh, wait.

We drove past him and parked behind the building. This is where Nathan nervously turns to me whether we should do something. I just want to melt into the seat like a dollop of sweet cream cheese frosting spread over a freshly baked cake. Nathan finally forces me out of the car with a thick slice of guilt.

(Note that Nathan suddenly needs to fidget around the car, to look for ‘something’ he lost and desperately needs immediately for some unknown reason.)

Creeping around the corner I see the man poking around the gate, utterly confused as to how he ended up in this black hole after carefully tracing the fence. The old lady hasn't moved a muscle since I last spied her, still standing on the doorway, staring at the man as though nothing at all is wrong with the picture.

I don’t say a word. Not a sorry, not peep. I merely open the gate hiding behind a bush (for fear to be seen?) and go stand next to the old lady in the doorway watching the man find his way along the right side of the rails again.

“You know I am waiting for my daughter to come visit. My husband says not to go outside, as it’s not safe outside. ‘No further than the door’ he says”, she tells me excitedly. I tell her that her husband is a very clever man and leave as Nathan finally emerges to the scene again (apparently he struggled to find the car keys, strange as he was the one driving).

During the elevator ride to the fourth floor I collapse in the lift. An old woman too afraid to leave the doorway. A blind man walking into a pit of absurdity. Everybody moving along as though nothing happened.


The other day I saw the lady again, we greeted each other as though old allies. I guess we got each other’s backs in the face of blind stupidity, you know some of us can’t see, some of us can but it still doesn’t help us see the world around us any better...

PS: Dear sir, I know it makes no sense writing this long overdrawn explanation to you, but I am so sorry. So incredibly ashamed and sorry, I have no real excuse.

Sincerest apologies and kindest regards.

Cape Town – Vancouver