Good day Folks, I thought I would share a love letter from a Facebook friend I almost met. Hi Zimbini, Finally I have made good on my promise. See the letter below... Sorry it has taken this long. I guess the thought of doing it got delayed in the Post Office. You know that they are on strike, neh. Enjoy... I have committed many mistakes in my life. I have also suffered countless errors of judgment. Like the day of 9 September 2014. I walked out of my office, and to the Post Office. The queue was long enough for me to indulge in a second reading of the book. So I was mildly upset when a white guy behind me distracted me from my pleasure. He prodded my shoulder. As I turned to look at him, I was met with a wide grin of yellow teeth and garlic smell. With him was a woman who gave off just the same. ‘You like to read neh?’ he said with that Afrikaans accent. I knew that I was in Vanderbijlpark. ‘Yes, I do,’ said me in reply. ‘What is that book about?’ he asked. Before I could reply he followed up by saying, ‘it looks interesting the way you are reading it.’ I wanted to break it down for him. But I did not know where to start, and how much of that I must give him. So in my moment of trying to express love to someone I had not met, I became hostile to Yellow Teeth. ‘If I wasn’t posting this to my dear friend, I’d give you the book to read.’ Whites being who they are (and I like that about them), he drew back to his place. It was end of conversation. We shuffled along the queue, without any more distractions. If this brief conversation was between two Black people, I shudder to think how it would have ended. Maybe I would have been persuaded to give away the book. Maybe I would have been told that I am up to nonsense, given that I am married. My wedding band was on my finger, mind you. I have said that mailing the book was a moment of trying to express love to someone I had not met. Indeed it was; it is. Zimbini, I have not met you. The closest you and I ever came close to meeting was when we agreed, tentatively, I think, that we will meet in a matter of days when you come to Joburg from Polokwane. To this day we have not talked about why that meeting never happened. I suppose the bigger reason is that you did not come to Joburg like you had planned. But the other possible reason, the most embarrassing one at that, is that I did not push hard to make sure that, if you did travel to Joburg, we actually met. So I hold myself responsible for this act of recklessness, and cowardice. I do not have a crush on you. If I ever had one, it must have fizzled out the day you taught me hilarious lessons about life. Like everything that we share via facebook inbox. I cavort any friendship with a woman who is steadily going somewhere, who takes on life’s moments with a charming sense of humour. Through women like you, I have been exposed to charms and love that does not say Hey, let’s have romance; let’s meet and have rompous hidden moments. But this issue of crush must be explained. I have a crush on you. I still do. It has to do with the way I was introduced to you. You had written a piece on facebook. I cannot recall what the topic was. Yet I remember that it was about current affairs politics. The only phrase which I remember vividly about the piece was when you said, ‘Wait, let me have my drink… sorry about that’ before continuing with the writing. It was the most hilarious piece by someone I did not know. I was so thrilled by you I even requested… no, I instructed a friend of mine to check you out, and to befriend you because I thought you are the future. I know that this last part sounds cliché. But I think you follow me. And you will meet that phrase in the love letter which is still crawling somewhere in the ineffecient postal service system! (At this moment I want to scream and hurl insults at the Post Office, to blow off steam, you know what I mean?) So there I was, swooning and feeling besotted by this Zimbini Madikwa who landed in my world in grand style. I have been in love with you since that day. I have followed your posts, I have sought advice from you, I have yearned your presence on faceboook… and I have wondered where you were when it looked like you were too quiet. You have never disappointed me, Madiikwa Madikwa. One of the moments I cherish was when we chatted for a long time about writing & contributing meaningfully. I enjoy the fact that we share a common interest – reading. Demmet, Zimbini! You are an ardent reader. I know this by the types of reading material you have been sharing with me. If you must know, I cannot keep up with your reading pedigree. But I am there; not far from you. You always leave me in stitches whenever you roll in on facebook to comment on the things we talk about. Your sense of humour is out of this world. You are really charming. You are a beautiful person. I feel that I am privileged to be your friend. When we finally meet (something which I believe will happen this year) I shudder to think about the kinds of topics we are going to talk about, and those things we are going to forget to talk about, and laugh about, because time will be terribly limited. For now I have resolved that the best I can do to lure you to the idea of us meeting is to throw in a hook in the water. (If the idea of you being likened to a fish offends you, I apologise.) That hook is the book which I bought, and stood inside the Post Office on 9 September 2014, to mail it to your address. I have been keeping an eye on you, monitoring any clue that will indicate that you have received the love letter… the book. But I know that you have not received it, because the damned post office employees have done more striking than working for a year! (I feel like insulting them again.) This is what I mean by having committed mistakes. How could I be that stupid? Why didn’t I “speed courier” or DHL the damned hook… I mean book, in the first place?! Zimbini, I love you. Thank you for reading.
Posted on: Mon, 05 Jan 2015 09:13:13 +0000
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