I was 5 years old when I joined my first ballet class - 5 years old when I left. A girl in my class had passed her exam and had been awarded a tutu as she advanced to the next level of training. Needless to say the pressure was too much and I quit. Looking back I realise that I was never ballerina material anyway, and I managed to convince my folks that Modern dancing was more my "thing". I joined hip hop classes in my twenties, and in 2014 I'd like to start again - as soon as my faulty Taekwondo knee fixes itself.
I remember watching a teaser advert on television for the first Lord of the Dance visit to South Africa. Moved beyond expression I vowed to watch the live show one day for myself - sadly I've missed every opportunity. Unbeknownst to me, I was about to become a cast member of the very same show years later. The same vow had been made in vain for Tap Dog's - I suppose I need to learn to plan, save and go!
The Squish of Death
One of my most traumatic experiences as a child happened when I was about 11 years of age. Living in the humid and fertile KZN province, we had plenty of cockroaches residing within our home. The Durban variety happen to be winged and able to fly. I count my lucky stars that in Johannesburg, they have no such luck!
On a particular evening at this tender age I had managed to step bare foot onto a medium sized roach, a memory that has haunted me to this day with disgust and plenty of inner turmoil.
Forest Life
I chose to live in a suburban Bryanston forest complex because of the beauty that surrounds me and the nature that dwells within it. I am literally surrounded by a living part of flora and fauna that I'm so blessed to call home.
Living in this beauty means I share space with the creatures that inhabit it and in turn, one needs to be considerate to the creepy crawlies that lived here before I did. I've noticed that the roaches here aren't as large, and a little flatter than the bulky variety I'm used to - so we live in peace.
There is a strict "no kill" policy in our home when it comes to the forest inhabitants, this includes spiders. Occasionally I bend my own rules (especially) when I'm face to face with the big Kahuna of Roachville, this 2 bedroom isn't big enough for the both of us!
Tonight We Dance
So last night I'm in my typical mid-sleep position in the bathroom, the type of mid-sleep that finds you sitting down on the loo for at least half a doze.
I gather myself to the basin with the intent to go back to bed where my full sleep and pillows await me. The cold tiles against my aching soles bring relief and comfort, its been a long day.
Three steps past the bathroom door and a familiar crunch meets my heel. Suddenly and I am transformed into the artist I've been preparing for. Flailing arms in the air and grimaced face to match, I'm Michael Flatley's biggest rival!
Thoughts turn to the many possibilities that could have fatefully moistened the underside of my foot. Perhaps a cold dollop of hand cream? More than likely a spilled blob of toothpaste? I believe the Irish folk dance of dread that I managed to pull off requires many years of practice and perfection. Tonight, I am dance, I am rhythm and my partner remains a mystery.
Poetic Interpretation
It's funny how in that moment of darkness (both in my mind and in my passage way) I'm taken back to the 11 year old that stood on that cockroach many years ago.
The squeals of laughter coupled with my destructive imagination have turned me into my own comic relief. Perhaps not knowing what it was, that my full body weight had come into contact with, was far worse than the reality that awaited me.
But I was wrong.
Heel dragging across the carpet floor like a dog with an itchy bum, my repetitive "Oh my gods" fill the room (and possibly the forest complex) with a very definite sense of distress. The giddiness I feel sends me into a spiral of nausea and gag reflex action as I relive my childhood all over again. For all I know I could have stepped on a stray pink grape from the punnet I had purchased earlier that day.
Creeping toward my light switch, I'm hesitant to reveal the contents of my passage floor. Just like a murder scene in a movie, the violin build up plays in my head. What will the light reveal?
It's as if the light's revelation would push me over the edge, my squeals of laughter and gravity defying, physical ability would be met with nothing less than a complete mental black out or worse, the rapture itself.
I was right.
As the light turned on, my eyes battled to adjust fast enough to the patterns on my tiled floor. The contents was in fact, the fattest and blackest of crunchy cockroaches I had ever seen.
My heel had met square with this tiny encapsulation of hell disguised as a shiny, black insect sent from an immortal abyss of suffering.
At this stage, Craig is literally shouting at me. If I'm laughing, I'm clearly not in serious danger, but what he didn't realise was that a war was happening at the foot of his bed.
The final flush
Gagging yet again, my flailing arms revisit their rehearsal, now in the light. Had I had access to a hidden camera this shit would have gone viral by 8 am this morning. My physical reaction to this particular experience can only be compared to the final moments before the big push a mother endures as her child enters this world. Screaming, sweating and at the brink of giving up - but this sucker had to go!
Piling loose reams of toilet paper over my victim, shuddering gets in the way of my ability to take control and man up. I'm reminded as I look at his crushed body, that my foot has in fact been in contact with his squirmy, squishy insides. Flailing arms and face grimace returns - I can't deal.
I'm one River dance away from an Oscar, the performance of a lifetime for no one but God to appreciate. God and of course the ghosts of the hundreds of roaches that haunt me and my forest home.
Managing some self talk toward a second attempt, I flush the sucker down and heel to the ground, dragging my foot against the tiles in disgust all the way back to my room. An unimpressed Craig stares at me through sleepy eyes. He won't get it, no one will, unless of course they saw the whole thing happen for themselves.
That cockroach was sent to remind me that I'm more than qualified to dance in the face of adversity, more than able to cope with trauma than I realise. Regardless of how seriously we may take life, there's a River Dance in all of us and in each a River King. Under enough pressure without thinking about the "right" moves, we simply find our feet.
Rest in peace bastard roach, sorry carpet and towels and of course to Craig -apologies for the rude awakening. I took one for the team!
Laughing at 4am, reinventing moves like Jagger. Life's unexpected experiences are sent to try us, the least we can do is have a good chuckle.
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