24th: Treading Water with Stones in My Pockets.

9am to 12.30pm I meet Lebogang Mashile in Parkhurst and we talk and talk and talk becasue we are brother and sister. And in early afternoon I meet Abebe Zegeye a wonderful man and Jyoti Mistry the academic and film maker, both are from Witts University. We talk particularly of Saartie Baartman. But something I'd talked about with Lebo, something about me, had disturbed me.

Afterwards I am at State of The Nation near Melville and Romy the owner, a woman rooted in business feeding from the nutrients of her life and her country, she tells me a story, this magical transfixing story and it moves me and I have to leave. it is as if she has poured cold glowing honey into parched darkness and I am on the edge of tears for some reason.

But it is all connected to the conversation with Lebo and to something I said and I should have known: something dark. I should have known if I talked about that then this would happen. I should've. I pass by Love and Revolution in Melville and take some pictures of the owner and the café because they came to my performance last night and couldn’t get in and I felt sorry for them.

And at the theatre in the evening I shower but I can’t wash it off this feeling of deep sadness as if I am treading water with stones in my pockets knowing that the more tired my legs and arms become the heavier the stones. After my performance I meet Hugh Masakela in the bar. He remembers me from his time in exile when he lived in England. I am proud of this. He has performed Songs of Migration a beautiful work which previewed tonight. I am in no mind to go home. I am dangerous tonight. I am dangerous to myself.

Hugh masekela knows pain, knows redemption. I swim the night in tears and will emerge at the break of day, cleansed. It must be that way. I am okay. This is one night of many. Let me tread water with stones in my pockets. Let it be exercise to strengthen and test the depth and power of my spirit to emerge. Let me cry.

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