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A tiny but overly dramatic tale. - Zilla Schoeman

A tiny but overly dramatic tale.

A tiny but overly dramatic tale. - Zilla Schoeman

“It’s 22:00, pulling down the soft linen, I slide into bed. I reach for the bedside lamp. A click puts a wrap on the day. I curl in on myself, it’s safe inside the darkness. My body feels weary, tired to the core of each bone. The sheets’ satiny caress dissolve away the day’s turmoil. I sigh and nestle deeper into the comfort. My cat’s familiar weight as she joins me draws a smile; bed time, our favourite part of the day. Sleep’s temporary relief comes easy; before I’d register the comforting rhythm of her purring, my mind’s lost in the dreamless void.

Hours later I’m awaken by harsh alarms. Straightening out the night’s stiffness, I reach to scratch the fluffy head in greeting. Her spot’s empty; heat or hunger woke her early. Padding towards the bathroom, I’m steered down the hall by a frantic noise. Desperate scratching and fearful screams come from the pantry closet. Opening the door lets out a blurry black arrow; straight for her bowl, she greedily laps up the cold water. Was she trapped there the whole time? An uneasy feeling knots my stomach… what the fuck slept next to me the entire night?

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Rainbow graffiti reading Your Hate Is Not Holy, This is not a safe space, on a church wall in Cape Town

If Your Faith Needs a Tin of Paint

What Cape Town’s vandalised rainbow crossing says about religious entitlement. Someone took a tin of paint to a public road and called it an act of faith. Here is what it actually cost, and who ends up paying for it.

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