Platinum cage
Last night I walked into the kitchen. It was getting dark, but not dark enough for me to need to turn on the light. I absentmindedly drew a glass of water and stood at the sink, sipping and looking out into the backyard.
"Dumela, mma!"
I continued drinking my water while my brain tried to process who had just addressed me and where the hell they were. It took me several seconds, but it finally dawned on me who might have said hello.
I took a step back and, sure enough, there I saw the guard in the backyard, sitting happily on the little wooden bench. I raised my hand in greeting, to which he nodded, and then I slipped back into the interior of the house, to the fortified hideout that is my room.
I stopped by Matt's room on the way there, and unleashed me shock as I giggled about the guard's looking into the kitchen. We agreed that it was creepy, and felt strange to be in a house where people could look in upon us.
A few minutes later, Matt was getting ready for the gym and exclaimed that he felt trapped in the house - first its the motion detectors, and then the guards look in on us! There's no privacy, he lamented.
As I reflected on our exchanges, I thought it was odd that we were the ones paying these people (men) to sit out in our yard and watch our property while we slept. Why were we complaining about them? Why didn't we just dismiss them?
And having burglar bars on the windows and doors, motion detectors in most of the rooms, and an active electric fence - do they really make us feel more secure? Or do they just give us more reason to be paranoid?
"Dumela, mma!"
I continued drinking my water while my brain tried to process who had just addressed me and where the hell they were. It took me several seconds, but it finally dawned on me who might have said hello.
I took a step back and, sure enough, there I saw the guard in the backyard, sitting happily on the little wooden bench. I raised my hand in greeting, to which he nodded, and then I slipped back into the interior of the house, to the fortified hideout that is my room.
I stopped by Matt's room on the way there, and unleashed me shock as I giggled about the guard's looking into the kitchen. We agreed that it was creepy, and felt strange to be in a house where people could look in upon us.
A few minutes later, Matt was getting ready for the gym and exclaimed that he felt trapped in the house - first its the motion detectors, and then the guards look in on us! There's no privacy, he lamented.
As I reflected on our exchanges, I thought it was odd that we were the ones paying these people (men) to sit out in our yard and watch our property while we slept. Why were we complaining about them? Why didn't we just dismiss them?
And having burglar bars on the windows and doors, motion detectors in most of the rooms, and an active electric fence - do they really make us feel more secure? Or do they just give us more reason to be paranoid?