Move link

Diary of a Mercenary




Hi all

I've moved websites, and I'll now be regulary blogging (daily, at most once every two days). I'm now at http://diaryofamercenary.com. See you there, leave a comment, link to me. This website is going down soon.


In hospital

Hi all, I've been lying in a hospital bed for a while now. I just got a laptop, but cannot blog unfortunately, because it is way too slow and expensive. I'm using a mobil phone internet connection which is kinda crappy.

I've got multiple gunshot wounds to my legs, so I think I'll be lying here for a while to come. I'll continue writing when I am out. I mean, it had to happen sooner or later, did it not? A soldier gets shot, it isn't that big a deal. I'm just happy I did not die.

By the way, I've been writing a book. I'm already about 30 pages into the book. Yeah, it is crap, but at least it is giving me something to do while I'm stuck in here.


The vulture

I was in my bed yesterday morning when my telephone rang. Before it rang, my primary feeling was one of desperation. I was bored and tired of guarding banks, and I absolutely hated the endless waiting, with nothing happening. There was so much private work I also had to do and all this work was not getting done. I was drying up, my energy was sipping away, and my life evaporating into nothingnes.

I picked up the phone, and heard the clipped Afrikaans accent. You have been invited to the Presidential office. Please appear properly dressed to meet the president.

I dropped the phone, and lay in my bed for a few moments. I stood up and got under the shower. I brushed my teeth, and only then did it begin to strike me that something was going to change in my life. A meeting with the President. I wondered what I had done right.

I stood in the waiting room, in a crowd of about 10 men. A good number were police officers, some in uniform, some in plain clothes. You could tell from their judging eyes that they were men of the law.

The vulture was also in the crowd, but I did not acknowledge him. Professor Steyn, tall, thin, trembling lips, a large nose and a stare like a vulture makes as it circles around the corpse, and waits for the humans to go before disturbing it. He was a pathologist, well known because he worked in the field also, and not just in the hospital. I had met him before, and we were not the best of friends. He looked across at me, I saw from the corner of my eye. He did not acknowledge me either.

The door opened and we were ushered into a large office. Thabo Mbeki was sitting, and waited for us to file in. Then he stood up, came across and shook our hands. He greeted everybody by their names. When he came to me, he said „John Ben-Younes“. I replied „Mr. President“. Okay, there is something a bit goosebump inducing about a president speaking to you like he knew you.

Then we all sat down, and he proceeded to tell us what he called us in for.