Grabouw–I’m from you.

I’m from Appletiser,

from fruit-picking,

and potholes the size of basketball hoops.

I’m from abandoned buildings

and a school with too many broken windows.

I’m from a million bad habits to kick and a bucket list as long as the schoolyard wall I often used as a public toilet.

I’m from the apple orchard,

the Elgin Rose,

and the Country Club with an ocean without salt or the colour blue.

I’m from burnt spaghetti bolognaise and Percy Sledge LP’s;

from big-brother-biting-ear-off at Christmas lunch and little brother getting tattoos at age twelve.

I’m from the broken bones and sticks and stones, and names that always hurt;

From the “no good-no food”;

the “money don’t grow on trees”,

and the sweating, spitting, ‘turn-or- burn”, big, blue and white tent travelling preacher.

I’m from the ‘vetkoek and mince’; the bean soup and the band of brothers fighting over who should do dishes cos their bones had more meat on.

I’m from the riots and the burning tyres;

the Idols Competition winner,

and the street corners with the wanna-be gangster boys, thinking they are men.

I’m from the dusty roads and hand-made cricket bats.

I’m from the Gerald Wright Hall, and the parties it hosted.

The shebeens in Beverly Hills and the many wasted lives.

The meth-houses in Melrose and the anti-drug activists with useless posters.

I’m from churches in every street and praying mothers on their knees.

I’m from the unemployed, college graduate, twenty-something, eating sushi.

I’m from forty thousand people.

I’m from every race.

I’m from you.

I’m from Grabouw.

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