Day 68: No wrong people
In memory of Mogamat Armien Alie (12.08.1958–02.05.2011)
After one night in the fabulous mansion of a generous multi-millionaire, where I had full use of my own private suite complete with flatscreen television, shower with a view of Paradise Beach, and with jet skis and other toys at my disposal, I felt compelled to walk into the cluster of RDP homes.
I arrive at the home of the Alies by mistake. I have been told to ask for Miriam (who is very welcoming and will probably love to have me), whose husband’s name is Raphael.
I have directions and yet, for some obscure reason, I stop and ask a random passerby. He doesn’t know the people I am talking about, but he knows a Maryam. Her husband’s name is Armien.
I decide to follow my instinct and the new directions to one road higher. A group of people is sitting outside, lekker gesellig. I am nervous and a little unsure. It is human, after all, to fear rejection. I explain what I am doing, that I have nowhere to stay and no food to eat. I tell them that Cathy, the sister of Judy, has sent me. No, this is the home of Maryam and the Alies. Maryam comes outside. She’s been making sa- moosas. They ask me questions about my journey and are surprised to learn that I have not yet stayed with a Muslim family. Maryam offers me samoosas and spanspek. Her husband says that he has a feeling I should stay with them. He says that there is a reason I came to their door. ‘Jy’t nie by die verkeerde mense uitgekom nie. Jy is by ons. Jy is by die regte mense. Miskien is daar nie iets soos verkeerde mense nie.’
The Alies teach me about Muslim culture and religion. Armien takes time to explain the calendar to me, the holy days and certain beliefs. I am especially fascinated by Forty Days, the Muslim belief in an advance warning ‘wanneer jou blaar gaan val’. Forty days before death, they believe, people will realise what little time they have left to repent and make an effort to mend their ways.
Maryam tells me that she was brought up a Christian and that her parents were quite well off. She takes after her mother, who used to give freely to people. She works as a trauma counsellor for a local victim support group and she’s also part of a neighbourhood watch that works in conjunction with the police. The Alie household is one of only a few in the neighbourhood with a shower – its door is always open to others in the neighbourhood.
I am fascinated by the new words and sayings I learn. I overhear a little girl of about seven ask, ‘Nou, watter meid was nou hier?’ in reference to me. I also smoke some cherry-flavoured tobacco from a hookah pipe and chase after a woman with curlers in her hair to get a photograph of life in Langebaan.
When I had climbed over the dolosse that seemed to block my way a week earlier, I was frustrated by how BIG the place seemed. At that stage I had no idea how small and connected it really was. Today, my heart still swells for the people of Langebaan.