EXTRACT There are three conversations in this steamy café this morning: the benefits of hot yoga, also known as Bikram yoga; the taxi violence here in Cape Town that has meant a stay-away en masse of domestic help; and the fate of beleaguered Cape Town mayor, Patricia De Lille. Having just alighted from their cars, the women had obviously been listening to 702 talk show host Eusebius McKaiser’s interview with DA leader Musi Maimane. It soon became a communal conversation across the small space with its round wooden tables and stripy black and white plastic chairs. On the table for discussion was Maimane’s failure to illuminate the reason for the DA’s displeasure with De Lille, even after being given an open platform on radio to make the party’s case.
All good things must come to an end, goes the proverb attributed to Geoffrey Chaucer, and said to date back to 1374.
Endings are often painful and frustrating… the end of a love affair; divorce; retrenchment from a well loved job; moving house; leaving home for the first time. All heart wrenching.
For me, sad endings extend to throwing away much loved clothes: a well-worn cashmere sweater that has kept me warm through happy and sad winters, memories imbued in the woollen weave; too-tight favourite jeans that tell of thinner, younger days…
There’s a new “capsule wardrobe” trend that encourages, mostly women, to limit the number of clothes in their cupboard to make space for the new. The creators recommend a turf-out of garments not worn in a year.
The hardest part, they warn, is giving oneself permission to begin the tossing out process. Endings are hard, even good endings that are accompanied by a sigh of relief; leaving a bad marriage, walking away from toxic friendships.
It’s the memory of the once good thing that has to be mourned. Letting go of the past, good or bad, requires a period of reflection or, at the very least, acknowledgement that it happened.
I am watching as a friend comes to terms with his impending ending; watching with sorrow as he tries to fight the invading cancer that has riddled his body. He says his will to live is strong, but we both know that the end is not too far off.
Death: it’s the ultimate ending and, I suspect, the ending by which we judge all endings. Death as the end is what fuels all our other dread. Change involves an end, and the end involves the death of something.
Right now, I’m in Cape Town, sitting in a Melissa’s Food Shop in Newlands, in the shadow of the mountain, drinking a flat white coffee and eating smashed avo on sourdough toast topped with a poached egg.
There’s a written announcement on the table: Melissa’s The Food Shop, has been placed in liquidation. Within a few months, Melissa’s shops and products will be no more. It’s the end of an era.
The iconic Cape Town brand, known for its (very expensive) baked goods and deli produce, started in 1996 when Mark and Melissa van Hoogstraten opened their first store.
I’m not sure how they managed to run into financial trouble. I, personally, have kept them solvent for years: their rusks are an integral part of my dry store pantry; their preserves and fudge are my default hostess gift when I go to dinner.
Yet here we are. Melissa’s is broke – “hopelessly insolvent” the liquidators say.
The owners of this Melissa’s shop in this little part of Newlands are at pains to inform their customers that they are a franchise and that they will continue to be open for business under a new name.
As I sit writing this column, Newlands yoga bunnies with perfect bodies encased in pale leotards join the coffee clutch mums with candy striped prams and rain protected strollers for spicy chai lattes and green smoothies.
There are three conversations in this steamy café this morning: the benefits of hot yoga, also known as Bikram yoga; the taxi violence here in Cape Town that has meant a stay-away en masse of domestic help; and the fate of beleaguered Cape Town mayor, Patricia De Lille.
Having just alighted from their cars, the women had obviously been listening to 702 talk show host Eusebius McKaiser’s interview with DA leader Musi Maimane.
It soon became a communal conversation across the small space with its round wooden tables and stripy black and white plastic chairs.
On the table for discussion was Maimane’s failure to illuminate the reason for the DA’s displeasure with De Lille, even after being given an open platform on radio to make the party’s case.
Then there was the unfairness of the DA leadership in bringing disciplinary charges against De Lille, of accusing her of maladministration and fraud. Where was the proof?
The unfairness of terminating her party membership coupled with the unfairness of trying to remove as mayor of this city was appalling.
Thank Goodness the Western Cape High court reinstated her pending, of course, her challenge of the constitutionality of the DA’s cessation of membership clause.
On the show, Musi Maimane told Eusebius that De Lille had “interfered with the Municipal Finance Management Act, one that governs how municipalities are run – she interfered in the appointment of a senior manager.”
In a nutshell, are they saying that she’s guilty of “jobs for pals”; of nepotism.
De Lille has accused Maimane of betraying her. Letting go is hard; it certainly seems to be hard for her. Endings are hard, even for hardened politicians, with rhinoceros skin so thick that nothing penetrates.
Jacob Zuma didn’t want his reign to end. Robert Mugabe hung on for 37 years.
Endings can cause great anger.
I was furious with my mother when she died. I was on a plane to New York to begin my new life in that city. I’d said goodbye to her the day before, and left her in good health – or so I thought.
The next morning, she suffered a massive heart attack and died. The ending was too sudden. I wasn’t ready for it.
Like Father of English Literature Geoffrey Chaucer said, All good things must come to an end.
As must this week’s column.
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