When I was working at the Sunday Times in Johannesburg on Valentine ’s Day, my office looked like a florist shop.
‘No one has the right to have so many admirers!’ adjudicated a reporter spitefully.
It’s a very South African thing to define someone by what they have, what they wear, what they drive and where they live.
I tried to heed the caveat of my yogi raj Mani Finger: Take your work seriously, but not yourself. If you take your possessions seriously what will happen if you lose them.
What will happen if you lose them?
I thought about that when I took the roof off the car and drove home with Talking Heads blaring, the song-snatching wind blowing through my hair. At times like this it was easy to believe that I had hit three gold stars on the fruit machine of life. Did I deserve my good fortune? What gods…