The last time I saw Miki Dora.

I had just walked up to the Jefferies Bay Post Office on a cold, wet and windy afternoon, not much to do in this town on days like this. It was 1986 and I was hanging around waiting for Supertubes to turn on, but not today, thought I would send a post card and maybe talk to the cute girl who worked in the Country Feeling shop. On entering the large sparse timber building I went to counter I thought I was the only customer in there, them I heard an American accent, turning from the counter and there was Miki on the public telephone spelling out his name talking into the receiver. He was wearing a wind jacket and jeans and his hair was wet, and Scooter-boy his dog was wandering around at his feet. Dora he was saying D O R A spelling it out, sounded like he was getting frustrated. I went back to my post card sending business, but could hear the conversation in the background, he was trying to apply for South African citizenship.  For a white person at the time it was easy, this was Apartied’s last gasp there was a state of emergency called and most whites were fleeing the country if they could. After I had done my minor business I turned to leave and took one last glance at Miki and his dog and stepped outside into the gusty wind and down the steps and I felt that lonely chill of being along way from home.

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