As Toni took in the scene before her, she felt, yet again, that although the landmarks were as familiar as her own skin, she’d been transported into an alternate reality that more closely resembled a warzone – maybe in the Congo or Mogadishu – than the bustling working-class neighbourhood of her childhood.
Suddenly and without warning, Toni was overwhelmed by emotion. She felt the tears welling up. It was the relief of having escaped a possible shootout, anger over the destruction of her childhood home, and a deep, deep sadness for the general state of the city she loved and still missed. How could it have come to this? How do you even fix this? Could it get any worse?
Get a grip on yourself. You’re freaking out. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to live in Joburg. You’re shocked because Cape Town has managed to avoid this degradation, for now, at least. You’ve become soft, living in South Africa’s tourism capital. But this is what 10 million people deal with every day.
I’ve not forgotten. I just didn’t want to see. I didn’t choose to come this way today. Because I knew instinctively what lies here. I just didn’t expect it to be THIS bad. I need to get out of here now. I’m over this.
But there was no easy way out. A massive truck ahead prevented her from seeing how far down the congestion ran. So, she slowly inched her way in its shadow. Her thoughts wandered again as a phrase formed in her mind. Cry. The. Beloved. Country.
This was the title of a 1948 novel by Alan Paton. It was the story of an elderly black pastor who makes his way from the rural mountain kingdom of Natal to the bustle of Johannesburg to look for his son who had lost his way while seeking fortune in the city of Gold. The novel became a timeless admonition against the then new apartheid government and the policies that separated people by race. In the novel, the city of Johannesburg, with its characteristic mine dumps, is a metaphor for moral decay. Most of Joburg’s mine dumps were gone now, but Paton’s message became far more prophetic than he could possibly have imagined. Truly, at the heart of all its problems, thought Toni, was the moral decay of the people entrusted to maintaining and leading this city.
Indeed, I do cry for you, my beloved country.
Finally, she saw the highway bridge. “Just one more block,” she heard herself saying out loud, as she mentally encouraged the truck in front of her to move. Just a few short metres stood between her and freedom. Freedom from the crawling traffic and exhaust fumes, and freedom from her internal dialogue.
The truck in front of her careened wildly from side to side as it negotiated a massive pothole. Toni didn’t realise just how large it was until it was her turn to navigate it. She didn’t drive into the pothole. She fell into it. A massive crater in the middle of the road. It must have been at least 50-60cm deep and was probably the main reason for the congestion. She hoped she’d not damaged the wheels of her rental car. She came to a dead stop in the middle of the crater and slowly inched her way out on the other side.
Another sigh of relief. Only one more obstacle before entering the free-flowing highway: a very large intersection with four lanes in each direction and not a single working robot! It felt a little like a game of chicken. Who was brave enough to drive into the middle of the intersection and dodge the cars doing the same in the other three directions?
At first Toni did nothing, unsure which of the 15 or so cars had arrived first. But nobody seemed to care. A car behind her hooted angrily. The driver wanted her to move. Taking a deep breath, Toni put the vehicle into first gear and shot across the intersection, narrowly missing a couple of cars before finally driving onto the highway on-ramp. Finally, she’d made it.
Only when she’d merged into the traffic and was able to get into fifth gear, did she relax. She knew she’d drive on autopilot into the city, not needing to think about where to go on a highway she’d travelled on daily for seven years. She looked at the dashboard clock. 2:45.
She was so late. But she was safe. She couldn’t believe that the whole ordeal had only taken 45 minutes. She felt as if she’d aged 10 years in that time. She turned up the radio and sang along to the tune, feeling a lot more at ease. Some twenty minutes later, she pulled up outside the school and the two boys excitedly told her about their day, chattering easily as she drove them home.
In no time, they arrived. The boys went to their room. Toni collapsed on the couch. Hema’s husband popped his head into the lounge to say hello. He looked at her and commented: “You look a little pale. Are you alright?”
Toni smiled ruefully and said, “Make us a pot of coffee and I’ll tell you about my day.”
(…the end…)
Transadaptation Volume 7 – Via Ellipsis – Continuation of Uncertainty, Instability and Extremes Transadapted
January: An Unexpected Trip Down Memory Lane – Sarah-Leah Pimentel (South Africa)
February: Blow-up – Veronika Groke (Austria)
March: Futuros Murguistas – Alejandra Baccino (Uruguay)
April: The Nomenclature Man – Paulius Limantas (Lithuania)
May: Amanecerá y veremos – Adriana Uribe (Columbia)
June: Finding Light in Yerevan – Armine Asryan (Armenia)
July: The Last Judgement – Nadia Silva Castro (Brazil)
August: Who’s Afraid of the Big, Bad Worm? – Narantsogt (Natso) Baatarkhuu (Mongolia)
September: Second Steps – Jonay Quintero Hernandez (Spain)
October: New Normality – Svetlana Molchanova (Russia)
November: Pandemic Love – Li Xiakun (China)
December: Beyond Comprehension – Rahaf Konbaz (Syria)
Background – Context
Transadaptation Volume 6: Meaning? – Uncertainty, Instability and Extremes Transadapted (forthcoming) (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2025)
Transadaptation Volume 5: Of Flowing Vicissitudes – Life Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2024)
Transadaptation Volume 4: Material Dissent – Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2023)
Transadaptation Volume 3: Evanescent – Young Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2022)
Transadaptation Volume 2: Conceived – Childhood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2021)
Transadaptation Volume 1: In the Middle – Prelude to a Contemporary Transadaptation, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2020)
Peripatetic Alterity: A Philosophical Treatise on the Spectrum of Being – Romantics and Pragmatists by Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)
La Syncrétion of Polarization and Extremes Transposée, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)
The Codex of Uncertainty Transposed, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2018)
L’anthologie of Global Instability Transpuesta, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2017)
From Wahnsinnig to the Loony Bin: German and Russian Stories Transposed to Modern-day America, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2013)
Emblems and stories on the international community
Perception by country – Transposing emblems, articles, short stories and reports from around the world
Credits
Left column (top to bottom): 1. South Africa – Shopping – van Blerk (Shutterstock); 2. Capetown, South Africa – Residential – Travelview (Shutterstock); 3. Johannesburg, South Africa – A family – Carlo Kaminski (Shutterstock)
Middle column (top to bottom): 1. Kakamas, South Africa – Die Pienk Padstal – Grobler du Preez (Shutterstock); 2. Karoo, South Africa – Roadside padstal – mehdi (Shutterstock)
Right column (top to bottom): 1. South Africa – Transport – rawf (Shutterstock); 2. Ruiterbos, South Africa – Boerqi Bistro Padstal – Roger de la Harpe (Shutterstock)