Listening to Radio Sonder Grense (an old Afrikaans radio station in South Africa) on a Sunday afternoon, don’t know how long I will still. Although I enjoy it, it takes me completely back to dark days.  I can count the good Sundays I had as a child on my fingers.  Weekends were tough times in my house.  I did not really want to say this so publicly but have to. So listening to RSG on this Sunday afternoon brings back memories of how I wanted to get away, wishing the unpleasantness away. Then listening to the radio would make me sadder. There was beautiful music and the greetings people sent to each other, they sounded so happy, their lives so together. But I knew that I was not one of them, not only because I was unhappy in my house but because it was engineered that I could not be one of those that wrote greetings, my name be heard. I was an outsider in my country, I had no name… I am not bitter, I don’t hate but that feeling, the déjà vu returns ever so now and then and I have to acknowledge it.  So I am switching off the radio right now. The sun shines too bright for me to walk back into the dark.