Last words from Riana Scheepers

Riana Scheepers recalls just how remarkable the joy of victory can be.

iIt was October and bitterly cold; the European winter had arrived early. My husband had to travel to Switzerland for a business trip and I took the opportunity to accompany him. Switzerland was unbelievably beautiful. Mountains, lakes, trees, the first snow on the highest peaks. While my husband worked, I savoured it all.

On the eve of our return home, we stayed in a small hotel in a little village nestled among the mountains. Our room looked out on a shimmering lake. I was blissfully happy – with my favourite person in a beautiful setting. How lucky could I be?

There were very few guests in the hotel. Summer visitors were already long gone and there was not yet enough snow to attract ski enthusiasts to the mountains. During dinner, it was just me and my husband at a small table, and a group of about 20 women around a long table.

We drank wine, we ate the most delicious dishes. Carrot soup with a hint of ginger, veal, an exquisite selection of cheeses, and apple pie with lots of apples and crispy crumbs, salted caramel and thick, thick cream. I quelled my guilty conscience by assuring myself that these treats were essential in such cold.

As we ate, the group of women at the long table started to pique my interest. They were all beautiful, both the young ones with their rosy cheeks, and those much older. They were happy and revelling in each other’s company, without being noisy. It was clear that they had a common interest, but what? And they were clearly not friends at a bridal shower. Judging by their clothes and jewellery, they were also not all of the same economic or social class. But who was I to judge because I am not an authority on Swiss society.

The most obvious reason for the women’s presence was surely that they were all attending a conference or workshop. But what were their professions? Estate agents? Lawyers? But then there would surely also be men present. Maybe beauticians? Nurses? Which careers are practiced exclusively by women?

In the end, my husband and I couldn’t decide which career this group of lovely women shared, or the reason for their visit. The only common characteristic they shared was that they were all happy. And this was very obvious because they laughed and chatted joyfully, raising their wine glasses high, eating with relish, telling jokes and stories – in a language with which I was totally unfamiliar. The more I watched them, the more I enjoyed what I saw: a table full of happy women.

“You see,” I said to my husband, “there’s an obvious difference between men and women.” “Is there a difference?” he teased. “If that was a group of men, it would have been completely different. They would have drunk too much, made a lot of noise, and they would have bothered everyone else in the dining room!”

“And you’re not guilty of stereotyping, right?” he asked with a chuckle.

When we got up to leave, the women were still chatting and laughing. I smiled at them as we passed their table. On the spur of the moment, I went to stand behind one of the women, placing my hands on her shoulders.

“I can see that you’re happy,” I said in English, “and your joy tonight made me happy too!” And I walked away.

The next morning, we ate a hurried breakfast as we had to get going. As we walked out of the dining room, someone came up to me. It was one of the women from the previous night, a woman in her early thirties. She told me she didn’t want to bother me, but she wanted to thank me. She took my hand. “Why?” I asked in surprise. “Because you noticed that we were happy,” she said. “We’ve all had breast cancer, but we overcame it. We are so grateful.”

I stood there, speechless. The woman had already turned back to her breakfast.

We left. And lucky for me, I had my loving husband with me, his broad shoulder ready for me to weep on.