isiZulu

As I buy my last affordable bottle of wine for a while, the girl at the till tries to teach me a couple of words of isiZulu.

"unJani?" she asks. How are you?

I ask how I should reply. "Ngisaphila." I'm well.

A couple more words, bright smiles on either side.

I did not have the heart to tell her that I'm leaving.

Confession: I had to refer to wikipedia to get it right.

Uitpasseer

On my first day at work we all met in the boardroom. New employees, slightly nervous, excited, optimistic.

On the last day, we have tea and cake in the boardroom. They say how they will miss my contribution. I make a submissive two-sentence speech on how the people I worked with made it worthwhile. All carefully worded, no-one upsetting anyone else.

They give me a gift voucher.

Then we eat, mingle, chat. Say goodbye. I tell about my new adventure. Answer questions on where and how and what.

We disperse. The MD disappears without saying a word.

In the beginning

I walked into the boss's office, smiled, asked if he had a moment, smiled again, closed the door and told him I am leaving. And smiled.

He leaned back in his chair, sighed and cursed. I smiled. He asked the usual where, what questions. I explained about the UK, about studying. He said it is a bad time on our project. I pretended not to smile. I knew. He sighed again. I pretended again. He complained that it seems to be the fate of the company to train young engineers for a year or two before they moved on. I wanted to jump up and down and shout and ask why he thought that happens. Instead I just nodded.

We made small talk. About whether I would return. He told how he would leave the country if he could, if his wife would. I refused to give up my hope, my naivety, my youth. I said I hoped to. He said he didn't think I would.

He thanked me for warning them well in advance of my departure. I knew I wouldn't really make a difference. I smiled.

I walked away. He remained seated.