Engagement

There are 2 parts to this very tale...

I'll start on the subject of the titling of this piece. ENGAGEMENT- A very serious and life-changing phenomenon, an uncertain certainty. Can a person at the foetal stage of their life, make such a decision? Well maybe they can- on average less than half the population has succeeded. It's a very blurry concept. Yes, I'm a cynical piece of old spinster bag. The bottom line is; people CHANGE. Change is a wonderful thing, it can be an invigorating ball busting, first stretch in the morning experience. So how do you plan for these changes? How do you know if you're going to grow apart? How do you know if the other person won't succumb to temptation? How, how, how...

That's where fear into the unknown comes into play. Love will conquer all... Blah, blah, blah. I truly hope with all my musterings, that it's true. (Please let it be true, pretty please?).

The reason for me going on about over-rated, certified companionship; brings me to my Saturday evening. My sister and I were invited to an engagement barbie (braai). The bride-to-be was a young lass- 24 years old at that. When asked the paramount question of any engagement party; she nervously bit her lip and regurgitated: "Well, we don't really want to rush it. I think we'll probably have it in 2007. March maybe?". Boy she sounded excited. I couldn't contain myself...

Why would a person do that to themselves? I mean, if there's a miniscule inkling of doubt- say NO for freaksakes! It's your life and the other person's life at stake! It kinda made sense when you looked at them. She's the nice, passive-aggressive type, that sacrifices herself, and what she believes in, to make others happy. He on the other hand, is her polar opposite. Yup, a right arsehole. Urks me off- opposites attract, my bloody twisted bunion!

What a beautiful start to the evening...

As we continued outside, we were greeted by blank stares as if to say, "Freak brigade party, next door!" I should have listened to my gut warning me earlier. Firstly, I don't do "braais". I find them gross especially since I'm a vegetarian. It's mostly the smell of burning flesh that reeks me... Secondly, I should have known that braais are synonymous with jockified, beer-drinking pratts. I could hold my nose and take small gasps of air to block out the wretched smell, but the jocks were everywhere. Yes I am a traitor to South African culture. I don't give a Care Bear. I don't even care if I become a social pariah.

I also came to the conclusion- after denying it for sometime (especially since we as humans are supposed to be progressive and understanding)- that people are facade-obsessed bastards. I can say that with great certainty, because the ONLY conversation- bar the chitty with the bride-to-be - was with some borewors munching imbecile. On every occasion I decide to venture outside my cocoon, I get asked- where I'm from. Bluntly I always answer, "Jo'burg". They retort as if I'm trying to dodge the obvious, "No, where are you from originally?" Originally well if you must know- my mom and dad had sex (you know when my dad's willy gets... yeah a bit too graphic) and I grew inside my mom's uterus for nine months; that's where I was later pushed out. Yes, I am South African, yes I was born in South Africa, and yes my parents were born here. I know I'm over reacting, but sometimes it can get annoying... Haven't people seen South African Asians? My god, we make up a good 5% of the population! Back in the day we were discriminated upon, we were classed with the Blacks in the Apartheid system. Even today we don't count. We have no voice, no colour, no country.

Today I count for me :D VIVA SASTA!!!