I wonder

I wonder how many times you’ve been had

And I wonder how many plans have gone bad

I wonder how many times you had sex

I wonder do you know who’ll be next

Do you remember the 70’s? Were you even born then? Amazing days – probably should have been 60’s if you lived in America or the UK but we were always a few years behind here. I was already 10 in then-Rhodesia when we got out first black and white TV. 1963! Britain had had TV since the mid-1930’s and we were only catching up nearly 30 years on. We only got colour television in 1984. And the shows – who remembers Dr Kildare, The Flintstones, The Dick van Dyk Show, Dr Finlay’s Casebook – and Dr Who! Who knew that he too wasn’t a ‘real’ doctor!

Can one even admit to having some affinity with Rodriguez’s lines these days? University days seem so long ago now but I know every word of this song and it never seemed inappropriate then. Woodstock eventually rolled onto our shores in 1970 and with it came free love. So cool. All at once I was introduced to dagga, political activism, sex, rock n’ roll, red wine … being part of a counter-culture and riding a wave of change. I wasn’t a true hippie but still felt like a part of a community. I loved the idea of shocking my parents (even if I had to do it quietly in case they stopped my allowance or brought me home) and reveled in the feeling of being able to make my own decisions and choices.

In South Africa, as we now know, I was definitely on the outer edge of the revolution but it still felt important, and the odd nights when you drank too much and woke the next morning not really remembering why your door was no longer to the right of ‘your’ bed were all part of those times.

When people ask me today if I was “in the struggle”, I have to say no, as you can’t count being chased by police dogs for taking place in a protest march to the Town Hall, or having my phone tapped because I was friends with someone who had been banned for being a member of ARM. There were so many bigger issues and bigger players in the field and I am just grateful to them today for making me so much more proud to say I am South African. Not however when I live through yet another xenophobic attack though, and then

I wonder about the tears in children’s eyes

And I wonder about the soldier that dies

I wonder will this hatred ever end

I wonder and worry my friend

And in the end you carry on your life, with good memories and bad, good experiences and not. It was an incredible time and I am inextricably part of that revolution. Some serious partying was had, and some important lessons learnt.