The Manuscript ...
I have started writing the sequel to Saving Mandela’s
children. The title will become apparent in the next paragraph. But every now and again I have to lift my head
up and look elsewhere so that I do not drown in the emotions that this
manuscript is bringing out in me.
Writing is a solitary activity that requires a ‘spark’
or a ‘creative streak’, without which not a word will appear on a page. This book is no nansy-pansy book with long
descriptions of the undulating hills and wide open spaces of the Karoo. It does not describe the extreme weather
conditions. It is explosive, very much
like the code name given to the investigation by the Scorpions into my theft of
donor money, money laundering and other equally horrid crimes that presented a
prima facie case. Operation
Dynamite! It is 3:15am in the morning
and although I woke to nauseating pain and an inability to breath easily, once
I had done all I could to alleviate the symptoms I started writing again. Glancing at my watch, I see that I have been
awake and tending to the oxygen, injections and sterilizing unit since 2am.
To take a document of 889 pages and turn it into a
short synopsis of what happened is no small task. I am now on page 70 and to make sure that I
have everything covered, I am ploughing through lever arch file after
another. I have kept these documents
through the years as a record to use one day.
That one day is now. It is a task
which is destressing as I re-live those times, with all the emotions attached
to them, as though they happened yesterday.
One good thing will be the clearance and dumping of these numerous
files, thereby making my life and my home easier to manage. I want to leave all this stress behind once
and for all. I no longer need to carry
it, but I do have an urgent need to write down what happened so that my
grandchildren can know that I was never a thief or criminal.
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