Protocol and Pink Slippers

Harold Strachan

Sort of eight o’clockish, at a guess, we’re low on petrol, as estimated, and we’re near Kokstad, as calculated, and it is now time to pull in here at the police station, as arranged and appointed, and tank up this vehicle and sign for it all and move on to Durbs, where I will be purposefully locked up solo once again and the dangerous interim of transit from die Rooi Hel Boep in die Baai* will be safely over.

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Harold Strachan published his first book, Way Up Way Out: A Satirical Novel, five years ago at the age of 72. A South Africa Air Force pilot in the war, he became an art teacher in the 1950s and was active during the 1960s in the Communist Party and Umkhonto we Sizwe, the armed wing of the ANC. He was imprisoned for four years and held under house arrest for ten years after that. He eventually left the CP and ANC, but refused to leave South Africa, and after 16 years’ unemployment set himself up as an art restorer. His second book, from which the story in this issue is taken, has yet to find a publisher. Dan Jacobson will write about Way Up Way Out in the next issue.