Opinion At the sunset, save the last vote for me
Aiming for poll position didn’t help
AFTER the last election, I vowed I was going to be one of those supersensible voters who arrive at least two hours before their polling stations open, equipped with hot chocolate, chevda (or veda), scarves, hats and woollen mittens (to boo away Gauteng’s already wintry mornings).
I was going to be organised and hence not subjected to long, snaky queues. Nope. Uh-uh.
The plan was as follows: get in early, make my mark then zip back home to watch the election coverage on TV while chomping on braaied lamb chops and juicy sausages — those really hot ones from the new butcher down the road.
But, alas, the greatest of plans bombs at the 11th hour. Literally.
On Tuesday evening, I abruptly made the mental connection that it takes guts to get up at 4am — and seeing as I do that every day for the Oscar Pistorius trial, I wasn’t sure I had enough grit.
P, who is one of those annoying early birds, tried provoking me by bringing up the Visvin Reddy fiasco.
“I was over Visvin and his dense comments laaaaast week,” I muttered from behind closed eyes, referring to the Durban politician who rashly commented that Indians who were unhappy with the ANC ought to go to India. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what time one votes, as long as one does.”
P then threw up a rather uncharacteristically reckless suggestion.
“Why don’t we take our chances and go to our polling station really late?”
This, coming from Mr Iwon’t-leave-home-withoutmoney-in-my-wallet-andglove compartment-andstashed-in-the-wheel-wellof-the-car-for-just-in-case, was a total shocker.
“They have to allow everybody to vote as long as you are in the queue,” clarified P. “That way, we can get up late, have our braai, watch the TV coverage and even have an afternoon nap before going to vote late in the evening.”
It was tempting . . . but could we take the chance?
What if we got back home way after midnight because everybody else had the same idea?
No, I was going to have to locate my guts and get up at 4am — it was the only insurance we had guaranteeing we would definitely cast our votes. Besides, I would not enjoy those chops knowing that I hadn’t voted yet.
In the end, fate played her hand in spectacular fashion. We lost our electricity some time during the night, which meant that my cellphone (which had been charging) died a silent death and the alarm didn’t go off, thus making the early casting of our votes a no go.
With the sun cutting sneakily through the curtains, initial panic turned to a blame session, which deteriorated into the slamming of the bathroom door, culminating half an hour later with the realisation that the casting of our votes under the cover of darkness was the only logical solution.
So, I enjoyed my chops, got a fair amount of work done and had an afternoon nap before walking into our polling station at sunset. In less than an hour it was all over.
It felt good celebrating the 20th anniversary of the vote, P’s new-found wild streak and Eskom’s ability to change the course of our day, this time for the better. That was Wednesday. By today, two things should be quite clear — the results of the election and that half of you are in trouble for not remembering Mother’s Day.
There are no Trance Uncle tendencies needed to figure that out.
It takes even less than some camphor and a few cloves to correctly predict that this election has also demonstrated that change is afoot.
Revolutions start with little steps.
And we should know. We are living through the first one. The second one, it seems, is on its way.
Devi’s e-mail address is devi.sankaree@intekom.co.za