Pains of separation

Lebo Khumalo ... the lady of the moment

Today it was not so bad. The lethargy, the pain, the anxiety of separation was less pronounced.
Instead of leaving the house yesterday, I walked around and suddenly started looking for things that in reality I did not need. After 16 months, I was finally leaving home. My partner, Lebo, found it just as hard. She is no crybaby believe me. But yesterday I swear there was tear or two in her big eyes. Unfortunately for her it is difficult to hide when she cries which is as rare as the snow in Jozi.
The reason for this state of affairs is that I started work yesterday. Better still, I started in a new job, the first I have had since my unceremonious parting of ways with a former employer.
In the new incarnation I have become a policeman – at least that is who will be paying me to speak on their behalf. To be more exact, I will be speaking for the Hawks or the Directorate for Priority Crimes Investigations headed by Anwar Dramat, a man who is has a reputation for smashing organized crime. Ask the Cape Flats gangs.
I was not aware that staying at home and working with my partner had such an effect on us and our relationship. There were times I came close to strangling her and her me. But we pulled through. The best time was when we were on the road for three months on an audit trail for Transnet’s Freight Rail. It was the best and the worst time for us. We scoured the entire country. We slept in B and Bs that were absolutely fabulous and others that were dodgy. We stayed in motels and hotels. We chased the sun, literally, as most of what we needed to do had to happen during the day or when there was still light.
We stayed at small wonderful hotels and we walked out in the middle of the night from some. We drove on tar, gravel and something in between. We negotiated rivers and sand dunes. We were incredibly hot and sometimes bone-chilling cold.
We ate the best and the worst. The best was at Le Mast in Upington. The worst was everywhere. We found out that Mpumalanga has the worst biltong of all provinces. Strue’s bob. Northern Cape was good, very good.
Sometimes we were lucky. Other times our luck ran short. But we were together. I drove most if not all the time. She was the ever-precise navigator. And do you think the driver listened to the navigator? She found sleeping places while I negotiated some of the worst roads in the republic.
Back home we went out on negotiations and deal making. Sometimes it happened. Other times we came back empty handed and sore. We were broke and sometimes incredibly flushed with money.
In short I was in her face and she in mine for all that time. We survived. Yesterday was the day to leave home and it as extremely hard. I walked in and out. I started the car. I stopped it. I looked for things I did not need. I was not sure what to wear. It was then that I realized how incredibly lucky I has been to have the chance to spend as much time with someone I am not yet married to. Officially that is. I realized how important and crucial she has become in my life. I realized how I miss her and love her.
It was in leaving home that I realized where my future lies. What a journey it has been and not in a million years could anyone have written this script… What a life.