Farewell Monica
About ten years ago I sat in a icy mobile SAfm radio studio in Grahamstown during the Festival. I was “driving the desk” for a recording that was taking place. Behind the microphone was Monica Fairall, and her guest was a holistic healer of some sort who specialised a swinging crystal pendulum that was meant to realign something or other to make you better. It was vaguely interesting but, honestly, I was more anxious about when I would get to have my next cigarette. The interview ended, I bolted outside onto the pavement and lit up. The guest left, trailing a cloud of incense and clutching her crystals (I swear I saw a lentil fall out of her skirtfolds). Monica joined me on the pavement. “Come on Monica,” I said “Seriously?” Monica just smiled at me – her twinkling, understanding smile, neither patronising nor preachy. I can’t remember her exact words and it is tempting to make them up to give the full effect. But I don’t need to – her words weren’t important. Her demeanour was. Monica was intrigued in the world of health and gave lentil lady as much time to express her views as she did nicotine-soaked me. It was just one moment out of the time I knew Monica that stands out.
