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Excerpt from A Chameleon from the Land of the Quagga: An immigrant's story by Joan Bismillah:
Annexed My Yin to His Yang....
Was it an illusion? But he was heading towards me. Smiling, he took my arm. “Are you looking for anyone in particular?” “Oh Bis, I’m glad to see you. I presumed that you were still at the caves on the archaeological dig or on holiday.” “No, and I’m glad to see you. Come, I’ve parked illegally,” he said with a grin. Racing to his car, and barely able to check my emotions, I stumbled but Bis held me firmly as he had done once before. “We must stop meeting like this!” We both laughed. Bis started the car and drove away. We reached Northcliffe, one of the few non-segregated areas where we could meet away from prying eyes. “I tried contacting you, but I had no way of knowing where you were,” he said. I jabbered away, barely giving him time to answer all my questions. He found a parking spot and flicked the headlights for service for the take-out eatery. A waiter took our order. “We’ve done this before,” Bis said, and he ordered chicken sandwiches and tea. Then he leaned over and kissed me. “I’ve dreamed of doing that all summer while I scraped sand away from Neanderthal bones in the Sterkfontein Caves... ... I broke the silence. “It’s been so hot. The rain is a relief. Unfortunately, we will not see a rainbow this evening. We barely know each other—I said that once before, but I’m delighted to be here with you.” “So am I,” he said, and gently put a finger to my lips. “Please, open the cubby, there’s something for you.” I obeyed, and a leather-bound copy of Whitman’s Leaves of Grass wrapped in a Wits scarf slipped out. For once, I was at a loss for words. It seemed so natural to be here with him, but to receive a gift was quite beyond my expectation... ... It’s your graduation present. I’ve been carrying it around in my car on the off chance we would bump into each other. Please, read the inscription.” I felt the colour rising to the rhythm of my rapidly beating heart, for inscribed on the inside cover, “And what I assume you shall assume... For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.” I was overwhelmed, and I felt an emotion unlike anything I had ever experienced. Whitman’s poetry epitomised what I felt to be true. I was bewildered by the suddenness of his confession, his gift of love, for that’s what it was, and it had taken me by surprise. Was this truly love? The old cliché “love at first sight” was indeed true......... |
