Granma, I love you
by T.B.Lyle

I knew it was a bad idea to start with, but hey - shit happens. We were a long way from home and at that time of the morning any place with hot coffee would do, seeing as we had a bastard of a journey ahead of us which would take all day, maybe longer. The three of us had made the trek to Johannesburg to catch Leftfield and Orbital at Gallagher Estate, and a humdinger of a gig it was too - 20 000 punters going absolutely ballistic. Leo and Michelle, being the conscientious puritans that they are, decided to leave the drug-taking in my capable hands. So that was me, then, with a monstrous package in my pocket. I made a lot of friends that night. After the main acts had finished we dawdled about marveling at the sheer size of the audience - gurning punters wherever you looked, most of them with their noses in the air as is the way of those who live in these parts. Fuckin' snobs. Just as we were about to leave I bumped into Peter Parker, that Mancunian of ill repute. True to style, he had a shopping packet full of MDMA capsules in one hand and a fist-sized block of hash in the other. Over the booming sound system I asked him for a blim of the hash; he got it wrong and thought I was asking for capsules. He proceeded to glance about a bit warily and then tells me to just dip in and grab some powder from the bottom of the bag, some of the capsules having broken. I do as I'm told and reach in, pinching an elephant-size mound of the dust from the bag. It's way too much for me but he gets paranoid and tells me to neck it pronto, doesn't want to draw any undue attention. Like you could mistake Pete for anything other than a wayward deviant. I dump the powder down my protesting throat and desperately chase it with a bottle's worth of water. My stomach does a triple backflip and I feel the shudder of shock course through my body. Batten down the hatches; we're in for a rough ride. I thank Pete; he slaps me on the back and disappears into the crowd with a wink. Then Leo and Michelle tell me in no uncertain terms that we're leaving right away. Mother of God, what have I done? I ask them if it's maybe not a better idea to head into Joburg and look for a coffee shop so they can have a bite to eat and freshen up before we hit the long road home. They agree, we get going.

As it's still early (7am) we don't find anywhere that's open. So we decide to waste some time by driving to Hyde Park, that institution of a mall patronized by the shamelessly wealthy. By this time I'm feeling decidedly off centre, my vision is flickering and I have the overwhelming urge to puke. I ask Leo to stop the car; he shakes his head - "Not stopping till we get to the mall, bro." Motherfucker, I'll kill your firstborn for being so inconsiderate, I think to myself as the MDMA hits my veins and I start to lose it. I can't take any more, so I roll down the window and hurl into the speeding road. I look up, mid-vomit, and see a wide-eyed granny staring at me as she speeds by, I try to smile and wave, but my motor functions are shot to shit. At least I feel brilliant, although I may not look it.

We arrive at Hyde Park. I'm sweating, my eyes are rolling, I can't think straight and I swear I can still hear the 4 by 4 beats we left behind at the gig. Leo and Michelle give me dirty looks, shake their heads. Puritans, fuck 'em. They tell me they think it's best I stay in the car, I tell them I think I feel like a Blue Mountain at the Seattle Coffee Co., thank you very much. So I steady myself and take a deep breath, follow them into the plush clinical mall. Mercifully, the coffee shop has banquette seating; I flop down and make an attempt at reading the menu. No good, I ask them to order for me as I head for the toilet to renew my acquaintance with the porcelain altar. Five minutes later I'm feeling absolutely ace, I've hurled the majority of the shit outta my poor stomach and I'm ready to face the world.

As I exit the loo I swear I can hear my name being called, but swat the thought away as being absurd - I'm in Joburg, for god's sake, the only person who knows me here is my grandmother. I hear my name again. I turn around, swaying a little. I look over and through a haze see a face I recognise. It's my grandmother.