So, I don't think or believe that I'm a fearful person, in fact, I think I'm brave-ish. Well, brave enough anyway. It therefore came as a very big surprise to me that it seems that I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. I can hear the comments already - WTF! You're kidding! Oh Phulease! Are you crazy?!? No, indeed me harties, I'm not. Let me recount the tale.
Now, I've had my moments, inexplicably I've had times where I've been transported back to SA, waking up in the middle of the night with bad dreams and being unable to go to sleep, but never has it happened like this.
So there I was, off to Cha-am with the rest of the troops from the center, to go on a team-building outing. What a wonderful setting! Beautiful hotel, excellent food, great beach, amazing swimming pool. The first day was taken up by team-building activities. Everything was fine and a good time was had by all, until we got to the one activity. You were in your team with a balloon separating each team member. We then all had to walk (more like shuffle) to the opposite side of the room. We were writing our vision for our center for the coming year. So, if a person got to the front and had finished writing, the person behind that person had to pop the balloon separating them from the person in front. The person in front could then leave and it would be the next person's turn to write, the person behind that person then had to pop their balloon and so on. You get my drift.
It all went fine until all the balloons started popping and suddenly, once again inexplicably, I was gone. It was the strangest, weirdest thing that I have ever experienced. Everything seemed to fade. I couldn't breathe. I only knew that my Service Manager told me to pop my balloon and I said "I don't want to'. I couldn't think. Everything sounded far away and all I could hear was the voice of that last man who tried to attack me saying "I'm going to fuckin kill you, give me your fuckin phone". I could hear his voice as clear as day. And, I was shivering. Not as in shaking, but shivering and shaking on the inside, just as I did when I was smashed and grabbed that one time. Of course, I popped my balloon and then had to write something. I couldn't think and all I wanted to do was howl. Please note, not cry, howl. I wrote something (still can't remember what I wrote) and stumbled away. I knew there were people around, but I was literally gone.
It took about 45 minutes (an estimate in retrospect) to slowly start coming out of it. Luckily we then had a break. Of course, the Service Manager knows me by now and came to speak to me and I of course burst into tears. She and Helen (another teacher) dragged me out of the venue for a cigarette and a chat. I felt like a huge fool and totally embarrassed. The reality however was there.
I've had to think about this for a while and, I've been unable to talk about it.
I have no idea why the balloons set me off, but what I do know is that for some strange reason I was transported back to the constant fear and stress of living in SA. Yes my maties, whether you want to admit it or not, that is what it is. We compartmentalize when we live there. You are not allowed to be afraid because there are people who've had worse experiences than you. For goodness sake, people are murdered. You are lucky to be alive. A little smash and grab happens to almost everybody. Some idiot threatening you happens to so many people. I remember eventually thinking nothing about all the experiences I had in Joburg. That sudden rustling you hear and a black face squashed up against your window, peering inside. Those idiots, all painfully thin and high, wearing long sleeves and holding something in their sleeve, looking into your car, that one idiot who will stand outside your car, throwing his spanner from hand to hand, trying to freak you out. Having always to be on guard when you are driving, walking in the street, sleeping with one eye open, waking up with a start when you hear a strange noise. Those terrible trips in the dark back home from Gearhouse even made worse when there were power-outs, Joburg looming menacingly around you, gun shots outside somewhere while you are sitting at your desk working, knowing that at some point you have to go home, getting home in the dark, no electricity in the car-park but, you are strong, fearless, you can do it, you do it, you have to do it because life carries on and what are your choices.
And, when something happens to someone close, you shrug your shoulders, you are horrified but, you shrug your shoulders, commiserate, move on just as you expect them to move on, get over it. BUT, my friends, this is the wake-up call. I have to apologize to Gerda and Philip and dear Maritsa who had so many bad things happen to her, I want to hug you all close and let you cry on my shoulder, but thank God Maritsa honey, I want you to be happy and safe in NZ. To Gerda and Philip, I'm sorry I didn't visit more, but now I realize in retrospect that my own fear kept me from you. Of course, all the other friends who have had cars stolen (Elzabe, Amanda and Mathilda), had been smashed and grabbed, hijacked and had burglaries (Angela, Rudolf, Elzabe, Anthea - just the ones I can think of off-hand). Henk whose dogs were poisoned and strung up. Now I think it is NOT compartmentalizable. It's unacceptable. Nobody should live like that, nobody and, accepting it as it is, is just as unacceptable.
Of course, tragically, I can say this because I'm far away. I've now been away for almost 17 months and this is what has happened to me after 16 months. I want this to be a warning to everybody. Do not under any circumstances make anything that happens to you less than it is. Yes, I know you have to live with it, but please, please, don't underestimate what is happening to you on a daily basis.
There was a point in SA that I knew that my heart would not take the pressure. I got to understand the saying, my heart nearly jumped out of my throat accept, it feels as if it is going to jump out of your chest. The long and the short of it is, if I had any ideas of going back to SA (which I haven't had) accept maybe for a short visit and to tie up matters, what happened in Cha-am has finally shown me that even if I wanted to go back, I will most likely not be able to.
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