Chapter 8: The Spring Ball

I gave Bev a call and asked her to meet us at the Heritage Market. I figured that it would be good for Daise to meet her earlier rather than later, and it might also help to have a sympathetic female while she was shopping.

I was very surprised at how compliant Daise was being. I got the feeling that she was determined to escape her situation, and that she had decided before even coming to meet me that she would accept me just as long as the situation was something better than what she was leaving. I was not under any false impression that what we were about was any sort of text-book romance, but I hoped to make some sort of emotional attachment before anything else, that that I could avoid any sense of her obligation or gratitude. I could see that was going to be difficult though; Daise was acting like a small puppy that had been mistreated all its life and was suddenly shown a little affection. I could see the start of the puppy-dog eyes. It was my ambition to turn that into something a little more like mutual attraction, before taking this too far.

We chatted a little more as we travelled, with me pointing out various landmarks and things that I thought were interesting along the way. There wasn't really much to see that was out of the ordinary, although I could see that Daise was appalled by the sight of the squatter camps at various places where they were near to the freeway. I had to explain to her about the huge divide that still existed between the rich and poor in South Africa, and how while that divide still had a majority of blacks on the poor end, there were a lot of blacks on the rich end; most enriched as a result of either climbing onto the political Gravy Train or of the BEE (Black Economic Empowerment) polices of the ANC led government. She was woefully ignorant of South African politics, but had, of course, heard of Nelson Mandela. She did tell me that she had a photo album at her home from her Father, and that there were a number of pages from when her father had served in Angola. She remembered that they were mostly labelled as have being taken near a place called Cuito.

"Cuito? You mean the Cuito River? Or Cuito Carnavale? Do you remember any labelled with the Lomba River?"

"Yes? How did you know?"

"It seems we fought against each other," I laughed. I was in Operation Modular in 1987 near the Lomba River in Angola and near the town of Cuito on the Cuito river in 1988. We knew that there were Russian 'advisors' with the FAPLA soldiers. How strange that your father was there. I have got some photos from those same places, especially of a battlefield just over the Lomba river where we wiped out a FAPLA Brigade in an afternoon."

"That's amazing. I can't believe that that sort of co-incidence."

"Not that difficult I suppose. From what you tell me about your father, it makes sense that he would have been there, and there were almost three thousand of us."

Just then we got to the Heritage Market. I pulled to a stop in front of the Keg Restaurant, and as I got out of the Land Rover, saw Bev waiting for us. I went around to the passenger door and opened it for Daise. She needed the help getting out: the Land Rover is high off the ground. I took Daise's hand in mine to lead her over to Bev, and was surprised at the way that she gripped my hand and held on. It was suddenly a wonderful feeling. I was at the beginning of a relationship with a very beautiful girl, and we were holding hands. I felt young and excited, more so than I had about anything for a long time.