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From the Inside Flap
I look out of my window of my bedroom atthe party below. Another boozy party with so many drunks. Wasn't last nightenough? How the hell does his liver handle it?
And, he has so many girls to dance with,why does he want me to dance with him?
"Tell him I don't wanna dance," I say toCharlene.
Charlene gives me a sure-you-want-to-say-that-to-Meneer?look.
With a small shrug, she leaves.
From my window, I watch her relay mymessage.
She returns a short while later. "Meneersay you must dance with him or he will throw you in the pool."
After the other night, I don't want tochance that. Fuming, I reluctantly walk out of my room and down to him.
When he sees me heading toward him, heclaps his hands. "Round of applause for our non-smoking, non-drinking,non-swearing, non ...everything Vyf."
"Knock it off, will you?" I hiss.
The music plays some Afrikaans song.
"What? All I want is for you to dance to afew oppressors' songs," Tarago says. "That's all."
"Mff." With my lips pressed tightlytogether, I stand in front of him and reluctantly move a hip slightly to theleft. Then I move it slightly to the right.
Under his watchful eyes and everybody'swatchful eyes, I feel like my feet are encased in cement.
"That's not dancing," Tarago says, foldinghis arms and pouting like a two-year-old.
"It is dancing," I argue. "And I'msorry that I am not dancing like a monkey and going like this..." I put my handsover my head and push at the skies like he does, a crazy look on my face.
"See, now that's dancing!" he says."You got it, Vyf."
I fold my arms tightly across my chest. "Well,that's not how I dance, so I refuse to dance like that. You just have tobe happy with my style of dancing to this ...this oppressor's music."
He looks at me, then shouts out, "Vyf wantsblack music! Can we put on Ladysmith Black Mambuza or something for Vyf?"
"We don't have any," someone says. "Noblack music."
Satisfied that I told him off, I slightlyshift around and stifle a yawn.
Suddenly, Tarago picks me up and walkstoward the pool.
"Tarago, stop!" I hiss. "I have a veryexpensive outfit on. Stop!"
He continues walking.
"Tarago, stop this shit! I can't swim. Youknow that."
He carries on walking.
"Tarago! I can't FUCKING SWIM!'
He walks to the deep end of the pool andjust tosses me into it in front of everyone.
Once again, I fight, splash, and cough, andsomehow manage to surface. When I get to the side of the pool, I look at himlaughing at me.
I lose it - "Jou bliksem (Youbastard)! Ek sal jou doodmaak (I will kill you!)!" The profanity, inAfrikaans too, just oozes from my mouth without thought. Maybe I swallowed toomuch chlorinated water or something - to be cursing? To be cursing in Afrikaans?
A hush filled the place. All eyes now onTarago.
Have I gone too far?
"Vyf," he says in surprised, but humblevoice, "You just spoke Afrikaans, Vyf."
I glare at him, my eyes bulging, my breathcoming out in spurts.
"You just spoke the oppressor's language,Vyf."
People start to laugh.
"Aaarrrggghhh!" I scream and get out of thepool. "You better sleep with your eyes open, you son of a bitch!"
He just laughs.
"Motherfucking arsehole! I will knife you.I promise I will."
His guffawing progresses to some tableslapping.
"Now we can see your tits!" Erika says.
I'm wearing a white summer top and aflowing white skirt. Right now, through my top, you can see my breasts and myhardened nipples.
Quickly, I cross my hands over my chest andstorm out of the party, Tarago's laughter ringing in my ears. I pause at theentrance to flash him my middle finger.
As I walk to my room, I think about themelt-down I just had - what the hell am I turning into? I'm swearing andcussing in Afrikaans, I'm making threats ...I think Tarago is turning me into amental case already.
I really need to get my shit together.
No, no, no, I need to get out of here.
Or someone's going to die soon.