My Criminal Record, My Curse, My Cure

I’ve written before about a “spell” that was “casted” on me by an Irish girl I met in England. I had just launched my Singer/Songwriter career in London, when I started having trouble finding work, and in a place like London, this is unusual. Over a telephone conversation, the Irish girl told me that it was her white magic that caused the blocking of my peace jobs, that kept me alive in London. She had a dream and decided that I should do music and my music alone, and no other work, so, in her eyes, she was realizing my musicianship. She was a witch, she said, by the way. She was mad. I was sceptic, fascinated, but mostly angry at her for trying to control my life and my destiny.

I never saw or spoke to her again after that conversation. She disappeared out of my life, but maybe not the spell for all I know.

That was 15 years ago.

In the meanwhile I have been surviving on gigs, CD sales and goodwill from friends, and when things get really hard, financially, I use my degree in law to make  money, and every time I go that direction, I swear I try really hard to make it work, and convince myself that I can do both, pursue a career in law, and be a musician at the same time. And then it happens, my circumstances become so, that I cannot stay. It has happened to me around 5 times, and mostly it boils down to lunatic bosses. And, I go back to doing music, full time.

Years go by, and I work hard at my art, I give it my all, and things happen, but, the big one hits, my family gets to a point of urgency, and in an instance ,I change my mindset to swing to law again, and this time I am adamant to succeed. I get a job, in criminal law, in Hillbrow. I travel 4 hours a day, work with abused woman, woman who murder because of abuse, over a period of 7 months. I work two people’s jobs, and I am stimulated and dog tired, playing and practising for gigs in the evenings and over weekends. After 7 months they let me go, because , I do not speak an African language. I am a native of this country and my mother tongue is an African language, it’s called Afrikaans, I say, no, they respond, it has to be a black language, well, brown people speak it too, I say, no, they say, not good enough.

I bounce back quickly and land a job at Legal Aid, all they need to is do the general background criminal and academic check. I wait, and do not get my call from them. I call the HR manger who then informs me that they cannot employ criminals.

1999 was a black year for me, I did a few things that could have caused me to possibly achieve a criminal record or end up in jail, but not for this, and not without a trial or confession.

That same year, I was arrested for interfering with two cops harassing a harmless bum on the street. They were pouring beer, that he was drinking out of his brown paper bag, over him, shaking him around, slapping him over the head and ears. Me “interfering” was suggesting that they rather take him in, so I was cuffed, told that they would teach me a lesson. My fingerprints were taken, and after my dad arrived, I was released. No confession were signed or paid, no written or verbal warning to appear in court, no summons, no trial. In other words, a false criminal record.

That same month, weeks after that, I left for London for 2 and a half years.

15 years later, I am informed of “my” record, and also that I pleaded guilty in court, and paid a fine.

The Witches spell, or two Afrikaner boytjies who would go the distance to keep their egos in tact..

So, I cannot apply for any work in the law field, and I am thrown back into music, full time, all the time….until my record is expunged.