“To be honest, I’m just winging it. Life, motherhood, my eye liner. Everything.” 

I said it was time to bounce back, and I meant it.  Am I wingin it? Yes, yes I am. Maybe that’s my not-so-new normal? On the fly, I asked my book-lovin sis to keep me posted on her new favorite reads.  (Sharee’s “hobby job” at Barnes & Noble keeps her apprised of the latest, greatest pages.)  She said Born A Crime was fascinating—4 plus stars for sure.  In fact, she shared an interview snippet from Born A Crime author, Trevor Noah, to underscore just how interesting this coming-of-age story is. Anyone want to get to know Trevor besides me?  

Noah describes how on this particular Sunday night in 1993 — one year before Mandela came to power — Trevor, his mother (Patricia) and his baby brother, Andrew, emerged from an evening service in a wealthy white suburban neighborhood of Johannesburg. (Patricia liked to make a “circuit of churches” in various parts of the city even when their car was broken down.) The only real transportation option for carless Blacks in that part of town was an unregulated system of minibus taxis. After a long wait, a minibus driven by a Zulu man with a foul mouth and inherent dislike for Xhosa women picked up the Noahs. As the only passengers on the bus, the situation soon became hostile and Patricia knew they were in trouble.

Patricia kept her poise and asked the driver to let them out. He refused. Finally, she leaned over and whispered to her sleepy 9-year-old on the seat next to her: “Trevor, when he slows down at the next intersection, I’m going to open the door and we’re going to jump.” And sure enough, when the driver slowed down, she reached over, opened the minivan’s sliding door, hurled Trevor out and then jumped out herself, cradling baby Andrew. If Noah was still half-asleep when the door opened, he was not after hitting the ground and hearing his mother land next to him and scream: “Run!”

They ran, hid and eventually escaped into a petrol station, where they called the police. Patricia and Trevor were cut badly, while Andrew miraculously didn’t have a scratch.  As they left the gas station Trevor says to his mother, “Look, Mom. I know you love Jesus, but maybe next week you could ask him to meet us at our house.” Patricia grinned at Noah, and the bleeding mother and son erupted into laughter.

Posted by Tracy