The Soft Vengeance of a Freedom Fighter by Albie Sachs

Author:Albie Sachs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography
ISBN: 9780520959446
Publisher: University of California Press
Published: 2014-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

23

I take the black canvas bag out of the cupboard, my favourite carrier for hand luggage, place it on the carpet near my bed, grip the top of the bag with my teeth, pull the zip open with my left hand, and take out my arm. Some lines of Thomas Hood come back to me:

A cannon-ball took off his legs,

So he laid down his arms.

This combination of plastic and metal and leather, waiting for me to give it life, is my arm, this hollowed flesh-coloured (white male) material, the top section shaped to fit snugly on my shoulder, curving and swollen in the middle to give the appearance of biceps, the bottom part joined on by a hinge at elbow height and shaped like a forearm, with a metal plate at the end capable of receiving any fitting such as a split hook or a hand.

My hand. I do not even know where I put it, it has been beautifully shaped, the fingers carefully measured, and I suppose if I wanted to I could pretend it was my hand, the engineer even chose a tone half-way between winter paleness and summer tan. It lies in a cupboard somewhere, ready to frighten an unsuspecting burglar one day. A hand feels, it touches, you stroke things with a hand, make love, tickle the most secret and sensitive parts of another with it, you greet strangers and friends, negotiate and feel your way through the world with your hand. Your hand is your imagination, your instinct, it contains your anger and your love, it does not pretend to be a hand, it is a hand. No one spoke to me about these things. The engineer was sympathetic and sensitive, he takes great pride in his work, in turning out a product that is functional, elegant and in keeping as far as possible with the wishes of the client. The problem is that the client, that is, me, did not really know what his wishes were; it was not basically a technical problem, like choosing shoes that fitted and looked good, nor simply a subjective question, like deciding on an ice cream flavour. In fact, only now do I feel that I am really beginning to discern what the real motive is that lies behind the strong desire for me to wear and love my prosthesis.

The specialists were delighted with me at first when I appeared at the limb-fitting unit to try on my arm, I was joking and enthusiastic, eager to collaborate, submitting to measurements and fittings as though I were trying on a suit for my wedding-day (will I ever marry again?). I did all the exercises I was asked to do, lifting pegs from holes and then putting them back again, confident that with practice I would learn to wear the prosthesis as easily as I had learnt to write with my left hand. Now they get irritated when I come because I theorize so much, clearly they would prefer me

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