Zip!. Nataniël

      DAUGHTER

      This world of ours is filled with people who find it really hard to make decisions. Each family has at least one of them. In our family we had an aunt who could not decide if she wanted to get pregnant or not. Finally she decided she did not want children. Two months later she was pregnant. She was not really our aunt, because as a child she had been adopted, but nobody was sure by whom. Although she was married to Uncle Dieter whose surname was Dekker, she was called Mrs Dante, but nobody was sure why.

      When Mrs Dante finally had her daughter, she could not decide on a name, so for the first few weeks she just called her daughter Daughter. Weeks turned into months and finally Daughter stayed Daughter for the rest of her life. Daughter was a really plain girl except for the fact that she could not close her mouth completely, she always looked like some­body had just stolen her cool drink. Because of her mouth she was losing air all the time, so she had to breathe more than other people and could not speak much. Everybody was always wondering what would become of her.

      Then one day at a family dinner Mrs Dante announced that Daughter was going to study at the Technikon.

      What is a technikon? asked her husband.

      It is like a university, said Mrs Dante, But it is more for special people.

      What makes people special? asked her husband.

      It is when you don’t have to think so much, said Mrs Dante, You can work at a hotel and hand people their keys or fix pipes or test phones. They teach you how to use your hands.

      I went to a technikon once, said my grandfather, But it did not make me want to use my hands.

      What did you study? asked my father.

      Nothing, said Grandfather, I had to deliver a table.

      Well, said Mrs Dante, Daughter is going to study to become a receptionist.

      Daughter did go to the Technikon, she stayed there for years until finally she was declared a receptionist. But she could not find work, people found her too disturbing. One day when she went to Cape Town, a nun started screaming, Oh God, I’m deaf, I can’t hear that woman sing! Then Daughter had to stop breathing and explain to her that her mouth was always like that.

      But she did not give up. Every day she took the train to Cape Town to see if she could find work. She knew she was meant for something. And then one day, as the train passed the Maitland Cemetery, one of the sparks from the electric cable flew into a tree and set it on fire. Because the train was moving too fast, Daughter could not see the burning tree, but the next day there was a picture of the fire in the newspaper. It said the fire destroyed a parking lot, a small church, two factory shops and three homeless people.

      Daughter knew it was a sign. That same day she stopped look­ing for work and told Mrs Dante she wanted to be a healer.

      Like a nurse? said Mrs Dante.

      Daughter stopped breathing.

      No, she said, You help people with their pain, you put your hands on them.

      That’s how I got pregnant, said Mrs Dante, Let them take pills.

      Daughter was completely out of air. She inhaled a bit and then she spoke again.

      A healer uses nature, she said, Herbs and crystals and dancing and planets.

      Then Mrs Dante ran out of air. Just don’t get arrested, she said.

      Daughter tried everything under the sun to become a healer. She made little mobiles, she painted fairies, she wore sandals, carried garlic in her bag, burned sage in front of a shopping centre, she even read a book. She hung crystals round her neck, some were positive and some were negative, after a year she had not healed a soul, but she was completely bipolar.

      What are we to do? said Mrs Dante to Uncle Dieter, She goes this way and that way.

      With an open mouth, said Uncle Dieter, That’s what a Kreepy Krauly does. Throw her in the pool.

      Daughter was devastated. For weeks she sat on a tiny bench in the back yard. She did not move. Mrs Dante watched her through the window.

      Use your hands! she screamed, Use your hands!

      One day Daughter could not take it any more. She decided to end it all. She got up and walked to the gate.

      Where are you going? screamed Mrs Dante.

      I’m going to use my hands! screamed Daughter.

      She walked down the street. She turned the corner and walked to the centre of town. It was five o’clock and she was on her way to the busiest intersection. Hundreds of people in hundreds of cars were trying to get home, people who were tired and im­patient, people who found it hard to make a decision, children who found it hard to breathe in the smoke of their parents.

      Daughter walked right to the middle of the intersection. Cars were hooting and people were screaming.

      Let this be it, she thought. She closed her eyes and started using her hands. She put one up in the air. Then she started waving with the other one. Suddenly there was silence.

      I’m dead, she thought. She opened her eyes. She was still in the middle of the intersection. A stream of cars was passing quietly, the others were waiting. She dropped her hand and lifted the other one. Now the others were driving and the rest were waiting.

      Today there are thousands of people at intersections, using their hands. Some are ugly, some are beautiful, some cannot close their mouths completely. But they teach us peace and respect, more than we have for a traffic light, a stop sign or each other. Healers in ugly green jackets, that’s what they are. And slowly, slowly we are making progress.

      (from the 10 Winter Nights with Nataniël stage production, 2011)