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The Exact Location of the Exit
Liesl Jobson in memory of Walter Mony
The Heat Is On 1:00 p.m., 10 February 2007, Blairgowrie, Johannesburg When we bought the house in Blairgowrie a year ago I wanted to fill in the pool. The fibreglass layered over the old concrete shell looks even more poorly now and attracts black mould in clumps in the summer. Tim still wants to redo it and has set aside savings for the repairs. But I have other plans for the money. Steam rises off the slasto that is gravy-coloured and chipped. Its flaky edge is softened by the phygelius that blooms in clusters of flames. We planted indigenous, wanting to save water. The guy at the garden centre said this was a ‘robust plant that occurs naturally along rocky stream banks in open woodland at altitudes up to two thousand metres.’ He spoke as if he’d memorised a textbook. When we bought the house I thought it would be forever, but in five minutes’ time I will rinse off the chlorine, dry myself, and dress for the Toronto winter. In five days I will open a bank account at the Royal Bank of Canada. Twelve years after democracy we are still fat white babies, unable to swim. Our water wings have cracks where the rubber has perished.