Thursday, January 19, 2006

Il faut cultiver son jardin

Monday morning. I spoke to Oscar, and told him about Saturday night.

“Oh, no! Terrible! Pshaw! Bad bad BAD people are out at night.”

“Gosh Oscar, I don’t know what happened at all. The police said, ‘nothing’, but I dont’ believe it.”

"Madam, you know there is a club down there. A drinking club.”

“A WHAT? Like a shebeen? Down in the woods?”

“Yes, a club, but it’s in a house over there, down across the creek. Over there.” And he pointed to where everything had been happening on Saturday night.

Ohhhhhh. A private drinking club; people tell me it’s quite common here in SA. People own a house, have people in, no liquor license, and the guests drink and party till all hours. So of course the house owners would say everything was fine: “just having a party, officers!”

And the woman? What happened to her? The baby?

I don’t know.

Oscar said I must mind my own business. Just pay attention to what’s inside the garden walls. That’s it.


I guess I see.

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