Three Encounters

Today I would like to share with you three encounters I've had in my life. All three of these experiences would  go on to repeat themselves in my life throughout my life with different people and places, but these experiences I share with you now represent the very first time I became consciously aware of the dynamics of these encounters and how they have informed my view of myself and of my place within the larger world

Encounter 1 (Somewhere  in the mid-80s)

An Invisible Rarity 

I'm about 9 or 10 and sitting with my parents and youngest sister in a well-appointed living room. My parents are visiting friends with us in tow and the hostess enters offering refreshments. She asks my parents in turn what they would like, before turning to Chrizette, two years my junior, and asking her preference.  I patiently wait my turn, but our hostess never asks me my preference, instead, she turns back to my mom and asks: "And what will she have?"

It's my first remembered experience of...what  exactly? Being ignored, well yes, I suppose one could classify the encounter as such. But even at this young age, I experience the woman's (probably totally innocently meant and unconscious) actions on a deeper level as a devaluation, even a denial of my personhood. Of course, I did not have the vocabulary to express it as such back then, but that is what it felt like.

To be fair this lady meant no harm and looking back now I can imagine how awkward she must've felt. This was some 34 years ago, a time when differently-abled people were seldom seen 'out in the open.' My parents, bless their hearts, took me and my able-bodied sister everywhere and always strived to treat us equally as best they could. Walking around malls during this time, with me and my youngest sister, they were impervious to the stares and whispers of strangers as they pushed around an eight-year-old so small she still fit in a stroller.

It is strange and sad to realize at as late as the 1950s and 1960s some parents were still actively hiding their differently-abled kids. They were segregated, some put in care centers and forgotten, the invisible rarities of society, the ones it was best not to speak of, as for speaking to them, well that was simply not done!

By the time the 80s rolled around attitudes had started to change and people like my mom and dad were determined that I be out in the world instead of hidden in a corner.

Over  the years that followed, the experience in that living-room would repeat itself many times, in many different situations, with many different people, remind me to tell you someday of that time I went to apply for my passport, but you live and you learn and you learn to speak up, in living-rooms or restaurants or optometrist offices, sometimes with hilarious results.

Encounter 2 (Somewhere  in the early 2000s)

She can read, isn't that incredible!

Speaking of optometrists...

I was in my 20's one year when the time came for me to go for a bi-annual eye test. I went on my own (because I can) and everything went swimmingly...until it came to the reading of the eye-chart. You know the one, right? So there I was staring at the familiar letters of the alphabet as the optometrist pointed with his little stick at the letters shrinking gradually in size and I read aloud (as one does).

I concentrated on my breathing and on speaking slowly because I knew that strangers sometimes had trouble understanding my speech. So I was reading and suddenly the optometrist exclaims in a voice laced with genuine shock: "Oh my G-d! You read so well, sweetie!"

Let me just be clear here, he wasn't praising my eyes, he was literally stunned at a woman (in her 20's) reading the ABC! To add insult to injury he then left the room to call the receptionist so that she could listen to me read the ABC! Afterward, I sat shell-shocked. I'd never felt more insulted in my life and that's saying something!

Do I look mentally incapacitated? I made the appointment by myself and answered all the questions calmly and in an intelligible manner. Was there anything else I could have done so as not to come across as mentally slow? I wondered later as I drove my electric wheelchair home past throngs of able-bodied people, some of whom wondered out loud how I dared to be out and about on the pavement unaccompanied by an 'adult'.

I was so angry and despondent. I had Matric for pity's sake, I'd passed it, with three distinctions no less, and I was a writer. I was a 20-something grown-ass woman who'd just been treated like a three-year-old by a professional who, to be frank, should have known better.

Luckily there were other encounters with better informed, much cuter, optometrists, in years to come, but that's a tale for another time ;-)

Encounter 3 (Somewhere  in the early 90s)

Being Seen

My school years were (for the most part) spend in Port Elizabeth in South Africa's Eastern Cape region, where I attended a school for kids with special needs and stayed in the hostel during the term, going home for the occasional weekend. Lucky for me we had family in Port Elizabeth, my half-sisters Melinda, Teressa and Marita all lived in the city at that time and took pains to see me whenever they could.

Melinda was the eldest of my dad's three daughters from a previous marriage and she and Kelly (Kelvin) her husband at the time, often came and fetched me from the hostel on those weekends when I didn't go home.

Even today I have wonderful memories of the weekends I spend with them and with my nieces Tracy and Liesel. But one weekend especially stands out in my memory. Melinda had told me when she came to fetch me that Saturday morning that she had a surprise for me, we were going to the mall.

I was about 15 at the time and in Std.7 (today's Grade 9) it was about 1990/1991 AGTER ELKE MAN was on our TV -Screens, EGOLI was all the rage....and Steve Hofmeyer was having his first concert in the city that night.

But as my eldest sister had learned before the big concert that night, Steve and his band would be at one of the big malls in the city doing an impromptu mini-concert free of charge. This is exactly where Melinda took me.

Now, this was before PAMPOEN, before the politics and controversy, back when Steve had just launched his singing career and was still Bruce Beyers in the minds of many. He was the biggest, hottest young star South Africa had seen in my generation at least and being able to watch him perform was a wholly unexpected treat.

After Steve and his band had finished the set he announced he would be signing autographs and a long line formed quickly. Melinda nudged me: "Let's go get his autograph!"

I shook my head no, the line was really long and...

"Oh come on!" She cajoled laughing and I reluctantly agreed.

"We might be standing a long time," I reminded her as she pushed me towards the line.

"That's okay," she replied as we parked ourselves at the end of a long line which was getting longer by the second.

We had been standing for about a minute when Steve stood up from his chair, looked out over the line and said: "People, could you please move aside a second to let a VIP through?"

I tried to look behind me. Which VIP was in the line? Perhaps one of his Egoli Castmates? I faced forward again and realized the line was gone, there was a clear path to the signing table and Steve Hofmeyer was beckoning Melinda and me forward with a smile.

My mind was still struggling to catch up as we reached the table with the line quickly reforming behind us.

"What's your name?"

He was looking right at me, not over me, at me, deliberately making eye contact.

No doubt knowing how nervous I was my sister started answering for me. He looked up at her and in a calm voice said: "I wasn't asking you."

Then he turned his full attention back on me and calmly repeated his question, to me. Steve Hofmeyer was speaking...to me.

I got out my name shyly, conscious of all the people lined up behind us. It is a testament to how attentively he was listening that I didn't need to repeat it. As he placed the autograph on my lap he leaned over, touched my hand and said: "You're special, - ...never, ever be afraid to speak up for yourself."

The line moved on and all the way home Melinda and I gushed about the encounter. But I don't think she ever realized how much the encounter truly meant to me, or why. That autograph stayed with me until well past High School, a reminder that I was seen, by someone who didn't have to see me, someone who chose to look, if only for a moment. Someone who reminded me that I'm more than an invisible rarity, after all.

Regards

Freeda Moon


Next Week: Connecting