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By Danie Toerien

Journalist


When ‘lockdown’ turns into ‘hard labour’

In our household, the one who wears the pants has decided that she is in charge during the current lockdown.


Interpretation is everything – whether it involves the rules of sport, the warranty on a new appliance, or the law.

Let’s be honest, we all know that rugby referees from Australia and New Zealand see the rules more as guidelines or even suggestions, especially when they “officiate” matches involving South African teams.

And anyone who has ever tried to return a steam iron one day after the warranty has expired, will also know exactly what I’m talking about.

Then there’s the law.

As with sports rules and appliance warranties, the law makes provision for both the letter of the law, as well as the spirit of the law.

Now, in our household, the one who wears the pants has decided that she is in charge during the current lockdown.

Seeing that the letter of the law was very explicit in employing the word “lockdown”, the unfortunate result was that it was interpreted as me being sentenced to 21 days hard labour – and she’s very spirited about it.

As a number of you know, there’s no point in trying to argue or debate with a prison guard, so in order to survive these three weeks, I tried to be proactive.

I managed to get the wheelie bin on the pavement even before being ordered to do so. In the spirit of the law, good behaviour should lead to at least a bit of time off.

But the interpretation of hard labour also varies, it seems, and I was ordered to mow the lawn, sweep the driveway, clean the flower beds, wash the car and start a vegetable garden.

I can do that in three weeks, I boasted.

“No!” came the order. “That’s your to-do list for the day.”

Problem is, I can’t even join a prison gang for some protection, because I’m in solitary lockdown – with the warden keeping a close and personal eye on me.

And now there’s talk that the lockdown could be extended. Can I please request that, if it is, we rename it? Let’s rather call it a 14-day compulsory family staycation.

In the meantime I’m sitting up through the night trying to cut through the burglar bars with a nail file.

Danie Toerien.

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