A fishy story

By Annatjie Prinsloo

In translation

It was September 1984 and the last Friday of those three weeks in which State President P W Botha was inaugurated in Cape Town and when the “Four” were detained in Coventry and the “Six” took refuge in the British consulate in Durban.

So much work, outside the sun shone on Signal Hill from a blue sky, Brian Cohen’s boats were busy collecting the riches of the sea … and then Minister Pik’s heart drew him to the mirror-smooth sea. I, the unfeeling Assistant Private Secretary, was determined to finish the work and took in more and more submissions for approval and signature.

Then the Minister came up with a plan.

Vic Zazeraj, thee Private Secretary, was not in his office and I just sat and worked at the switchboard. (Besides the Minister’s long-serving driver, oom Kerneels Joubert, we were the only Ministry staff in Cape Town at that stage.)

The plan might work.

While I was sitting and typing, I became aware of a movement out the corner of my eye: there large as life on his hands and knees the Minister was creeping past me down the corridor to his freedom and the sea!

What I did with the naughty boy? In spite of two giant reproachful eyes, naturally send him back to his office.

The weather outside (unlike in the office!) remained favourable and that evening, when the work was up to date, the Minister, (clad in those old khaki pants of which the seam had been burnt away by the coals, but wait, that is another story), Vic and oom Kerneels could sail out on the boat in blissful camaraderie.

All published in the Meintjeskop Courier, Volume II/1994