Читать книгу Nicky & Lou - Nataniël - Страница 14

Whether good or bad, whether by intention or default, it is our families who shape our lives, who in the very first years of our lives turn us into the kind of people we will be. And my great love and admiration for timeless and impressive buildings was given to me by my family.

My mother has a sister, a cousin, and a best friend who – each at a different time – taught me the secret of a truly great building, not the architecture, the style or the period, but the possibilities it holds for those who need it.

My mother’s sister was a quiet woman who was married to a large, rude man. My mother said she could never understand how somebody can have such good taste in clothes and then choose a man like that. At one point my aunt did try to poison him, but he just developed a skin condition, so after that he was large, rude and red.

When I was twelve years old we went to Cape Town one day for my aunt’s birthday. After we had lunch my mother said we should drive to the beach for fresh air, but my aunt said she wanted to go to the city library, it was her favourite building. I did not want to go to the beach, because my mother would make me take off my shirt and then other people would try and guess what I was, so I ended up going to the library with my aunt and her red, rude husband. It was a huge building with marble stairs and very tall windows.

Let’s go to the religious section, said my aunt.

For what? said her husband.

I think it will be the best, said my aunt.

For who? said her husband.

You have to be really, really quiet, said my aunt.

The religious section was filled with priests and nuns and preachers and rabbis and students. They sat at long tables and read very old books. My aunt made us sit down. Then she leaned over and whispered in my ear.

Tell your uncle I’m moving out this week, she said.

I leaned over to him and spoke into his red ear.

She says she’s moving out, I said.

He looked at her and then at all the religious people and said nothing.

My aunt whispered in my ear again.

I leaned over to him again.

She says you’re a pig and even if she was a farmer she wouldn’t come near you, I said.

He opened his mouth.

You have to be really, really quiet, I said.

And then the pig stood up and walked out without a word. The next day my aunt moved in with us.

Two years later we all went to Cape Town for my mother’s best friend’s birthday.

Why did your husband not come? asked mother.

He has his reasons, said her best friend.

Well, it’s your birthday, said Mother, As a special treat you have to choose your favourite place and then we’ll all go there.

Then we have to go to the cathedral, said her friend, It is the prettiest place in the whole city.

So we all went to the cathedral. There were many tourists, praying people and nuns. It was very quiet. We all sat down in one of the rows and looked at the huge windows. Mother closed her eyes. Just then her best friend leaned over and whispered in my ear.

I leaned over to Mother.

She says you mustn’t open your eyes now, but she’s living with a woman.

Mother grabbed her chest and nearly fell off her chair.

Her friend whispered in my ear again.

I leaned over to Mother again.

She says she’s never judged you for any of your choices, I said.

Mother opened her mouth.

You have to be really quiet, I said.

We drove home in silence and nobody said one word again about living with a woman.

Many years later I travelled to France and met my mother’s cousin. She was a lively woman with a lazy eye and fantastic shoes. She was married to a tiny Frenchman who played the flute in an orchestra and never smiled. They invited me for coffee and he took me to the Louvre. We quietly looked at hundreds of paintings until we arrived at the Mona Lisa. There were hundreds of people, tourists and nuns, and it took a long time to get to the front.

My mother’s cousin leaned over and whispered in my ear.

I leaned over to the Frenchman.

She said she’s sleeping with a much younger man, I said.

The Frenchman pulled his lips tight.

The cousin whispered in my ear again.

I leaned over to the Frenchman.

She says he’s from Nigeria and he can smile and you and the Mona Lisa can both go and do you know what.

He did not say a word, but to this day you can see the nail marks just to the right of that famous artwork.

Many years later I understood the magic of these timeless and majestic buildings. From the West to the East. Structures that took centuries to build, that cost generations of workers their lives, that were built to show the power of the rich, the royal, the religious and the corrupt. And now after all this time they are there for us, so we can go there and tell people the truth. And they will be quiet. Or at the very most just say, Oh.

(from the Cathedral stage production, 2010)