Jane visits the Farm
(or old Macdonald had a farm and all the eejai eejai oh’s)
After packing what seemed like all the clothes she owned (in Jane’s mind more was the new less); just to be sure that every weather event in the history of mankind had been accounted for as well as, all known chaotic, freak acts of God, nature could throw at her, she downloaded her favorite songs from her computer to her pink, mp3 player. Next on the list was to dye her newly cut brown bob, deepest black. She plucked her eyebrows, wincing as each root was extracted from somewhere deep in her body. When she stood back and looked at her handiwork she noticed that one eyebrow had somehow become crooked in the process. She shrugged and plucked the other to match; balance was everything in life after all and crooked eyebrows were infinitely better than bushy ones. She ticked off: pluck eyebrows for the first time, from her to do list and grabbed the fire engine red nail polish from her night stand. Forty five minutes later and with her tongue still firmly stuck in the corner of her mouth; her toe nails and nails emerged almost perfectly painted. All of this happened on the night before she would leave for a blissful one week vacation. Times like these, which were very few and far between, Jane, although she was far from being a child anymore, would just be too excited to sleep! Instead she lay awake imagining people, places and events which would never occur. These flights of fancy were Jane’s method of coping with what her life had become: mundane and utterly boring. It was escapism at its best!
Jane’s vacation would be spent on her Aunt and Uncle’s farm in the Free State, a good 7 hour’s drive away. Unlike other people, read mallrats, techno geeks and fashion Barbies, Jane was fascinated by farm life dating back to an age when she had barely been able to speak or walk. She always wanted to ride ponies, milk cows and throw breadcrumbs to ducks (Old Macdonald’s farm was filled with noisy animals after all). In fact, Jane still had in her possession, a photograph her mother took of her when she was a mere 3 years old, playing with a whole roost of chickens in a little round pen. At the time she was convinced that she had super chicken whisperer powers and would win them over with her considerable charm. She was a cute, cuddly baby after all! Jane wanted to kiss and hug every chicken that crossed the road (now you have the answer to that question). The frightened chickens however, not being privy to Jane’s chicken whisperer power would run for cover at the first sight of the big, fat, monster baby. Cute and cuddly meant nothing to chickens. They ran every which way, around in ever increasing circles or in between her legs, squawking like chickens who had had their heads cut off, yet nothing could keep them from Jane’s loving arms. It wasn’t all that bad; they hadn’t become dinner after all.
Vacation day arrived and Jane scurried around, grabbing a few extra accessories to squeeze into every available space and compartment she could find in her luggage, you know just in case she needed that particular item. Dressed in denim and a simple black t-shirt and loaded like a pack donkey with her mp3 player, a camera, a half read book and a huge handbag, Jane walked to her Dad’s car. The latter was getting slightly irritated and had honked quite a few times. Jane’s dad did not like shopping except when it came to tools or parts and detested waiting for someone; hence the luggage was thrown into the boot of the car and the doors slammed shut and an angry silence ensued.
At the bus station the offloading and subsequent loading of the luggage, took quite some time. The driver’s assistant cursed under his breath at the heavy cases Jane had made him carry without the slightest chance of a tip coming his way. He was astounded at the amount of luggage he had to find room for in the cargo compartment and shook his head while muttering:
“Hau, these white people, they have too much clothes” quietly to himself.
Jane said her goodbyes and settled into her window seat.