At a loss

On Saturday 2nd of January, Krishna, lover and friend, died in an accident in Kenya, the land of her birth.

On Saturday 20th of February, housemates Emma and Kolade married in Fisk Hoek in the presence of both their families and a colorful ensemble of friends.

Dealing with the loss of a life so precious to me and the celebration of a chosen commitment between two people who shaped a home for me in Cape Town is too much of a contrast to be compared. Although were only two months into 2010, I know for certain I will never forget this year.

I knew Krishna from Melbourne, where both of us were on exchange. When I returned to Southern Africa last year we met up again in Johannesburg. After spending a week in her freezing cold student room we left for Swaziland. We spent a few days with my family there and made a tour of the country by car, after which we left for Mozambique by bus. Via Maputo we ended up in Tofo and stayed in a little hut on of a seaside dune. After a last, icecovered night in Johburg, I embarked on a plane to Cape Town.

Although on the other side of the country, Krishna and I stayed in contact at varying levels of intensity. When she was in here in Cape Town in spring for a scholarship interview we spent the weekend together, taking her along to some of my ‘local favorites’. Several weeks later I wasn’t surprised several weeks later to hear from her that she had won the scholarship, which allowed her to come and study an honors degree at the University of Cape Town. Knowing that I’d have her around the corner delighted me, and I was glad that her sister had found them an apartment in Rosebank. On the first of January Krishna sent me the following text: “A very very very HAPPY NEW YEAR to u! Lots n lots of love n a biggg hug! :)”. Around 10.00 the next day I sent her an answer and at 13.00 my phone rang. Phillipa’s voice trembled as she told me when I asked her how she was doing: “Not too good, Krishna died in an accident….”

The last 7 weeks have not been easy. There are still days I go to sleep sad and wake up with tears burning behind my eyes. The car she was in wasn’t even moving when a speeding truck tipped over onto it. It is almost a miracle that her sister and friend came out of it without even the smallest scratch. She died on the spot, without making a sound. She didn’t see it coming.

Never before did someone so close to me die. Never have I so urgently felt the grief of an empty spot. Subconsciously I still expect her to appear out of nowhere. At the university she never got to study at I see her dark hair and small figure passing by several times a day. She will always remain 21, and I will never see her again.

When I came to view the room in Agust, Kolade showed me the house. The vast amount of books, outdoor shower and artsy paraphernalia convinced me in no-time. Announced as writer but soon also appearing very able in the roles of academic teacher, second hand dealer and public prosecutor, Kolade soon turned out to be the ideal sparring partner for verbal contortionism and warfare. I met Emma several days later and we later found out we both realized within the first minute that living together would be no problem. The source of Emma’s professional multiplicity is her broadly oriented personality, and with a background in gender activism, academia and management there are few issues she doesn’t have an opinion formed on. Todd, an HIV/Aids researcher with a surprisingly modest household footprint, complemented the household a month later.

Emma and Kolade are despite their Christian marriage not each other’s first. Emma came from a previous connection and needed to get some weight off her shoulder, while Kolade was in a fairly casual period of his life. The surprising fact that they stuck together says a lot about the effect they must have had on each other. The wedding day was one of those few exceptionally hot days in Cape Town. While the thermometer indicated 36 degrees, a ripple of wedding programs progressed up and down the church benches rythmically. Kolade’s family from Nigeria was represented by his mother and older brother and Emma’s entire family had made it down from the Eastern Cape. Kollade actually made air punches while pronouncing “I will!” and Emma must have suffered from sore jaw muscles for days afterwards from all the smiling. Ice cold champagne has never tasted this good.

The wedding was amazing and the improvised party afterwards including the last bottle of champagne in an overloaded car was unique. Still, to me all the joy and happiness appeared tainted. Every once in a while my thoughts were with Krishna. Shit things are just so much worse than good things are nice. And espacially on a day of such high spirits, the parched empty void of loss becomes so much more visible.