Day 365

I've written so many sad things about how I miss Nhandi, but how about, on this the 365th day of her passing, I write about what made me love her. Happy things you know... instead of the whole 'my heart is breaking' sh*te.

You see Nhandi and I shouldn't have been friends. I had been quite jealous of her a few months previous. My best friend had chosen to go out with Nhandi over a weekend, they were in the same class (different school to me). So I had my hackles up over this girl already. And I did not want to like her.

I can't remember why Mel and I went to the Saloon that day - there were probably boys involved who might have been there - can't even remember who the boys where or if they were there but I'm assuming boys were the attraction to a pool hall with pizza place attached.

Anyway, we walked into this place and there was Nhandi and her best friend Julie. We eyed each up over a pool table and circled each other warily. About an hour later, we ended up going to the toilet at the same time (it's a chick thing) and she whispered 'S is like soooo into you, I can just see it' and she hugged me. And history was made...that was it pure and simple. We became inseparable. Now the greatest thing about Nhandi, was that she included you straight away into your life (a bit like I did), we shared the same values. You got our trust until you broke it. Then you never got it fully again. Maybe we stayed best friends because our trust in each other was never broken. Oh we got annoyed with each other but we never broke our trust. And she was my staunchest supporter.

So this Jewish girl and I became friends, two days later and we realised we were both disgusting with beer. One bottle and boom! we were tipsy (not much changed, we never developed a love for the stuff). I'll never forget the train home that day. Sitting on the floor of the train renaming ALL the stations from Muizenberg to Stuurhof and cackling with laughter at how they flowed. I remember thinking 'I love this chick' as 14 year olds do... she had the same sense of humour, the same outlook, same insecurities as I did. I think when you are that age, you click on very quickly, who is just humouring you and who 'just gets you'.

And then she met LBW - and the three of us became tight. There was none of that 3's a crowd thing with us - we just did it all together. LBW got drunk, Nhandi cleaned her up, I laughed. That was the order of the day. Sometimes roles swapped a bit. Okay a lot... our roles intertwined. And then came the Clovelly part of our friendship - CLAN. We scrawled it everywhere. We did things that will probably go to my grave with me. We bunked youth, we smoked cigarettes, we discovered an intense love of Cinzano. Chipped teeth, bobs in Kalk bay, how every trip on 3rds, she'd end up protecting me from some dude trying to cut my hair - now I've seen pictures from those times, I still don't get why it was my hair they were after and not hers. Her family became mine and mine became hers. My Nana did meals around what Nhandi could eat and what Nhandi wanted to eat. We got ill at the same time (not surprising) and had mothers that fussed - I get it now, only children are special. She had a door we could write on, I had an aunt that would let us smoke.

And when I moved to PE, she'd come up on holiday or I'd come to Cape Town, we would make tapes of us talking and singing - I can't listen to them at the moment but I will. She was there when I had my first heartbreak and vice versa. She was there when Connor had his first taste of calamari. She was there when my Nana died. She has just always been there. So it's hard to know that I'm going through life on my own now. Well, not on my own, but without her. It's hard to go through my life without her.

However, I do not regret a single minute she was in my life. And I know I'll go through my life missing her vibrancy, her zest, her laugh out loudness, her smile.

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