Finding a journey and a conflict. That’s what my classmate and I were doing about an hour ago in Yeoville for my video. The above mentioned elements are elements that I had not fully considered and so with just a few days until deadline I found myself back in Yeoville at 21h00 looking for my character who will who will be able to convey these elements beautifully.
While we were walking to Rasta House our imaginations began to get the better of us, as would be expected while walking along streets lined with intoxiced men and no street lighting apart from some faint lighting provided by the spaza shops which were still open. And of course the many passing cars.
“The key is to blend in,” I said. “Although that might not work well, we should be wearing leggings that show some camel toe and really tight tops with no bras or panties.” (This is not a presumptuous description of women’s dress code in Yeoville. Many of them dress like that and walk with such confidence).
My classmate, adding to the way in which we should have blended in said: “And scars, we should have had scars.” After a brief pause she then said: “But where would get scars?” We thought these things might save us from being kidnappedvand sold off into a European sex slavery trade.
In our silliness we agreed that I would be the first to die from my first shoot-up of heroin- my body is weak. My classmate would survive and become an award winning author, capitalizing on the experience.
Eventually we agreed to just walk briskly and quietly (our ridiculous model C accents might attract unintended attention).
We were silly but we managed to make the best of an otherwise scary situation, in the final days of this in-depth journey. Even though it was not our first time being in Yeoville after dark, my heart was racing the entire time and I couldn’t wait to get to decent light.
It won’t be the last, this is journalism, something that has to be done in my journey to becoming a good journalist.