An Apology to an Old Foe

I am not a naturally brave person. Perhaps back in 1982 was my last act of bravery. I would have been in about year 3 when I was on my pushy out the front of our house when the neighbourhood bully, a huge thug by the name of Benny Brown, took a hold of my bumper bar and wouldn’t let go.

I abhor violence, but something came over me and I smacked that fucking smirk right off his face.

Then I scrambled and panicked, discarded the bike and ran for my life, literally. I burst through the back door, located my Mother, gave her my version of the story before the front door bell rang. It was Benny Brown and Mrs. Brown and it was SHOW TIME!

Mothers arguing about whose kid was right and wrong can get quite passionate, hey!

Yes, so things scare me and I am in possession of the most imaginative brain so I tend to jump to a lot of unhelpful conclusions.

Like one day, I had come back from an outing with my friend Mrs. Goodman. We came through the back gate, down to side where I discovered that the back door was wide open. Immediate thoughts? A serial killer was lying in wait, ready to stab me.

I told Mrs. Goodman about my impending doom. She rolled her eyes. I pleaded with her. And then she did what all good friends would do to defend a fraidy cat mate. Mrs. Goodman grabbed Horatio’s cricket bat from the back door and off she went….

“I AM FROM SOUTH AFRICA YOU FUCKERS, AND I AM NOT AFRAID OF ANYTHING!” She bellowed. Mrs. Goodman went from room to room yelling “BEDROOM ONE CLEAR!” “BATHROOM CLEAR” etc etc until she declared the house safe from serial killers.

Apart from serial killers, there is another thing that scares the bejeezus out of me, and that is snakes. So you could imagine my horror the other day when I was minding my own business, taking out the rubbish because it seems that the rest of my family do not have arms, when I came across a snake sunning itself next to the bin.

Time stood still. Birds stopped singing. Clouds in the air froze. Cicadas stopped their noise pollution.

The phone started buzzing from my back pocket…. It was Mr. Woog.

“Hi darling, do you know where my brown shoes are? I need them for…..”

Me… literally hissing “thereisafuckingsnakeinthebackyardiamgonnahavetocallyouback….”

The snake clocked me and started to move and so I screamed and ran back inside. And then something happened that was completely unexpected.

I have never been a fan of the species of bird, known as the Indian Minah. I used to think that they did nothing to propel society in any way. Boy, I stand corrected. For as I peered out my kitchen window, a group of them rallied, having seen the snake, and started swooping it!

They chased that snake over the back lawns, screeching and dive bombing it until it disappeared under the back fence. Then they had some sort of victory party, while more of their friends arrived to hear the tale of how they saved the lady from the house!

#grateful #indeed

When I called Mr. Woog back to tell him what happened he told me that the garden was full of snakes and he sees them all the time. I told him that we were moving.

So, in conclusion, I take back everything I have ever said or written about  Indian Minahs. It turns out that you do important work. Namaste. #soblessed

When it comes to irrational fears, what is at the top of your list?