Jo, was really quiet when we met.
Standing at 1.75m tall, she’s wearing a crimson gold reef city lipstick, and a monochromatic apartheid off shoulder dress. Her golden Mandela earrings stood out and dangles by the lobes of her ears.
She bought me to a heritage home where her grandmother made the best Umqombothi and we all drank from the same bowl. She also made the best grilled chicken too!
Jo is a closet artist herself and anyone who spots her Maboneng tattoo could tell. She tells me she dabbles and she showed me some of her amazing art pieces.
She drove me around for the few days that I visited, taking me to to places of her past, sharing with me the history of her. Jo had an abusive step parent if you have to know. But that’s all you have to know to
Jo is also an early sleeper, the town start getting dark after 6, and usually we would stay in after that, I still get insomnia here, but at least my depression got better.
We spent our last day together sitting by the lounge of the cafe while the rain tapped on the steel roof of our hostel.
We were making hamburgers for dinner and thankfully the town blackout came right after we got everything set. It’s surprisingly nice to eat with the candlelight as I saw the whole town lit up their candles, lighting up the whole area.
It’s peacefully, and yet it’s always the simplest things that gave us the most joy. Jo told me about her dreams, to do more, to eventually leave this town one day, and to be free. Hearing her stories made me cherish what I have, how my hometown was alittle more fortunate, and maybe my people have been taking things for granted. The simplest things.
We part ways the next morning when she sent me to the train station, and there I’ll be taking a long train ride to meet Cape.
“Text me!”, she smiled.
“I will”, I replied
”Come over again anytime! Takecare!”
We hugged goodbye.
And I’ll look forward to the next time we meet again.