A Bird in the Hand

A Bird in the Hand

Well , you see, it was like this, Danny came over to my house, with this darn bird in a cage. He had to go away, he said.

“ Please look after the bird for me, John, his name is Diego, Diggy for short, OK?”

“Sure, OK with me. No problem!”

Now what do I know about birds? Huh? I took the cage and put it on the kitchen counter. The bird looked at me, tilting its head to one side. The cat jumped up and gave it the eyeball! Have to find another place. That cat is too clever by half. It can open cupboards, so maybe can open a cage?

What was Danny thinking of, bringing me a bird for the holidays? But I owed him one. He saved my life back then and since.

I opened the cage door to fill up the water dish. The bird nipped my finger, drawing blood.

“Oh fuck! Silly bird!”

“Oh fuck!” said Diggy

Fast learner!

It was steaming hot, as only it can be, in the tropics. I had the ceiling fan on. Diggy looked on from his perch. He probably needed some exercise, but the room was not built for a flying spree.

I got a brainwave. I took the bird out of the cage and tied one end of a piece of string to his foot, the other end, to the ceiling fan - it was only rotating slowly. Give the poor thing some air and exercise at the same time. I was pouring with sweat. The curtains were not moving. The light shimmered with the flipping sun rays. I put some music on, Joan Baez. It filled the room. Diggy carried on flying with the fan, squawking now.

He seemed to keep up with the rythm alright and the speed. His wings clipped but not enough to stop them from a slow flapping movement. Maybe it was not difficult to look after a bird!

The phone rang.

“ Stop that noise! Hello! Hello! Hello! Click.”

“Shut up, you stupid bird!”

“Shut up, shut up, Stupid.”

It was Alfred asking me over to watch a rugby match, the All Blacks vs Argentina.

“Sorry Alf, I’ve got a bird here.”

“Lucky you! Enjoy the afternoon old chap!”

“The feathered kind . I’ve tied it to the fan.”

The All Blacks won 38 – 10. What a game to have missed!

I took the bird down and played some Francis Lai music, pottering around, sorting out the CDS.

Diggy climbed up the curtain and set off through the window. He had recently had some flying experience.

Knocked on the neighbour’s door .

“ Please help, my bird has escaped, can you please help. He flew into your garden.”

 In the end there were twelve of us looking for one African Grey.

“Diggy, Diggy, Diggy.”

No sign.

Gemmy running up.

“I just saw a grey bird in the park. Is that what you are looking for?”

Yeah! It was Diggy alright. He sat up near the top of a tree, looking down.

Stay calm, be patient, be quiet, those are some of the tactics they taught you for survival in the Border war.

There, you had to stay calm and quiet. If you so much as made a whisper you could have your head blown off. You had, at times, to lie on the ground for hours, crawling in the dirt, the debris.

It was there that Danny had dragged me away, when I got hit by a piece of shrapnel in the head. He caught it on the shoulder. The blood pumping out of his arm, he still held on to me. We got away.

We got home . We survived, Danny and I. We were the lucky ones! That’s what they said. There were many, not so lucky and they, I held close to my heart. We were school friends, seventeen years old and they died. Straight out of school. Are you an adult when you leave school? What makes you change from a boy to a man?

The army gives you six weeks of brainwashing and physical exercising, then you are a man.

They died next to me, on the ground, their eyes staring up, sightless. Boys! Like me!

We got back, Danny and I.

 I suffered from PTSD. Couldn’t get my life in order. It was in disorder. They say you are lucky you have come back alright. I knew I was not alright. Danny saved my life a second time. He kept me company, talked to me, gave me courage to carry on but inside, I am still a bashed up soldier.

I was back on Civvie Street.

I saw her in the airport lounge, looking at me. Her gaze told me she understood the look in my own eyes. She gave out shock waves, with the knowledge received. She had a baby in a pram and knew I had come back from a place called hell, while she and all the others, did not know. She saw the badge on my jacket - SADF – and she knew.

 Operation Bird

First, locate the enemy. The bird was not an enemy but he was opposition. He was giving me trouble. I had to figure out a way to get him down from the tree.

I tried calling. This did not work. He looked at me.

I got myself a ground sheet, blanket and a tray of bird food. Settled down for the long haul.

The sun went down. The rain started. I lay down waiting for the bird to get hungry.

 A good thing my place was next to the park. Could nip back home now and then.

 I was like, lying on the ground, on the other side of the Kaplyn. I could hear some of the words, ‘Are you looking for me?’ I was back there. “Are you calling me?” Could hear the noise of the AK’s, feeling the fear. One minute you are here and the next you’re gone! The Forgotten War, but not forgotten now. Never forgotten.

The darkness is my friend, concealing me. I hear the thudding of feet on the dusty ground, coming closer. I can smell the sulphur smell of gun powder. I can taste the sweat running down my face, salty and gritty with sand. Now it’s my time. A rustling in the bush next to me. Only a frightened shrew! I see the soft glow of its eyes. I can feel the shivering starting, the craving for a drink. The mounting urge to cry out. Bite the tongue. A slithering on the ground of someone next to me.

“It’s only me bru!”

We got away, Danny and I.

That bird climbed down the tree. It’s always about hunger! Climbing slowly, first one foot, then the other! Walking over to the tray of food, looking regal! Some bird! A pillow case over his head. Caught!

Back in the cage, Diggy got some treats.

Whew! Just in time for Danny to collect his bird.

“Hey my bru, how is it going? Diggy alright? Hello Diggy!”

“Hello, hello, Stupid bird!”

“Thanks for looking after him, John.”

“No trouble at all. Glad to be of service!”

“I am glad John, that our names are not on the wall. There is no reason in it. The memory of what took place will slip into the past. Conscription will be forgotten.”

“ Thanks my bru, but the conscripts will never forget!”