Grahamstown

Rhodes University: I'm sitting in one of the women's residences, Phelp's House, waiting for my room (no. 27) to be cleaned. It's the mid-term break and the residences are used to accommodate conference delegates. I'm in the commons room and all the emotions from my incredibly intense university days are flooding my system, not unlike electric voltage being pumped through a newly erected maximum security electric fence.

My time in Grahamstown, at Rhodes, was the most intense time of my life, definitely my happiest thus far, and also my first tatse of freedom: from the apartheid schooling system, from interdependent family life, and it came alsmost straight after my two years compulsory 'national service' in the army's Parachute Battalion (spelling?).

There's only two more things I need from here... .

(Aah, my room. And it's the exact one, mirror image, of my room in Graham House way back in 1990. I recognise the light, so does my gut, it also feels the slight chill left from winter on the air.)
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