Herman

Johannesburg – mid nineties.

by Marijke Hillmann

 

Herman, my assistant, enters data on a user-unfriendly computer system.

He swears in Tswana.

I look up and notice that his complexion seems very dark today and then I look him in the face.

His eyes glisten.

I shiver – down to the depths of my core.

“What’s up, Herman” I ask.

“I am sick, Em”

“How sick, Herman?”

“The doctor says I am very sick, Em – I am positive”

I put my hand on his shoulder.

“But you told me you do not have a girlfriend”

His eyes glisten.

“My white friends, Em. The men who buy me shirts and give me money for the taxi – they do not use protection”.

His eyes are blank.

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Born in the Netherlands, I left for Africa with my husband, a mining engineer, where we spent 40 years in different countries. We returned to Europe a year ago and now live in Germany. I am a translator by profession (Dutch-English and German-English).

Africa is still very much in my blood and so many memories wanting to be told, hence the story. See more of Marijke’s work on her featured page.