Strandpiel 46
Innerlike stryd – Inner conflicts
Here we go again... the latest chapter of the monster saga of inter-related family and friends on two continents. Still looking to bring it to some sort of a natural close... might take a while yet... as always, first draft for publication. Revisions will happen later. And even then I'll still miss something.
On with the story!
In which the Witch Trials are about to happen.
The ruling princes and princesses of the Zulu Empire have to accept a new reality and some are not happy with it.
And Ruth Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons develops a friendship with not only Agnes Nitt but also Perdita. And Anri Yolande begins to emerge.
Bekki considers her next move. But first she has to do basic training with the Watch and begin getting her Pegasus Boetjie ready for fully piloted flight...
The Air Watch Station, Pseudopolis Yard, Ankh-Morpork
"It won't be too long now." Bekki Smith-Rhodes said to Sophie Rawlinson, as they groomed and stabled their Pegasi.
Sophie nodded in barely-restrained excited anticipation. They'd spent a pleasant afternoon fitting their soon-to-be mounts with their first sets of tack, the harnesses having just been received from a very specialised leatherworker, who was retained by the City to perform the exacting task of fitting winged horses with extremely specialised saddlery. Working around the wing-roots was not something a saddler did every day.
Both horses had, quite literally as it turned out, bridled at the feel and initial discomfort of unfamiliar leatherwork, and had needed a lot of patient encouragement from their mistresses. It was necessary, Sophie and Bekki agreed: the next stage, once the Pegasi were fully grown – and that wouldn't be too long now – was for them to get used to saddle cloths and saddles. And then the necessary panniers. These things had to be taken in small increments.
"Tack like this must cost." Sophie had said, thoughtfully. It necessarily had to be bespoke. With these mounts.
Bekki patted Boetjie's neck. Her growing colt nuzzled her trustingly.
"The City's paying." she said. "Necessary investment. After all, we'll be working for the City."
Sophie nodded, thoughtfully. Then the other thing came into her mind, the one both girls were trying not to think about.
"Watch training." she said. Both of them winced. Thirteen weeks in barracks, to get the necessary grounding, and pass out as Probationary Lance-Constables (Air Police). This, they had been told, was non-negotiable. They had had the incredibly good fortune to be bonded to Pegasi, the rare and valuable flying horses. Once a Pegasus bonded to a Witch, the bond was made for life. Pegasi were the property of the King of Lancre, who graciously loaned them to the City of Ankh-Morpork. Lord Vetinari then dictated their use. He accepted that the first two Pegasi had been "born" in Pseudopolis Yard after a happy accident involving a gorgon and a nose-bleed, and two Watch Witches with an interest in flight had been the first humans they saw. Therefore they had been added to the Air Police strength. (1) The City Watch duly had a stake, and Vetinari happily accepted that the Watch was entitled to use them for what passed as normal policing in Ankh-Morpork. Another almost-an-accident – Nanny Ogg had been involved – had seen the first male Pegasus doing what came naturally with a normal mare in a field in Lancre. It had been realised that a mating between a Pegasus and a normal horse could well result in a remarkable foal. Born in Lancre. As indeed had all other subsequent Pegasi. Wizardly opinion suggested that the massive degree of background magic in Lancre made this sort of thing extremely possible there.
King Verence, prompted by Queen Magrat, had produced an ancient statute that said all winged creatures of magic born in Lancre were Royal property. Magrat, for want of something to do as Queen, had spent a lot of time in the Castle library and archives.
Vetinari had proposed a Treaty. This involved money passing from Ankh-Morpork to a cash-starved kingdom. The Pegasi were therefore leased back to Ankh-Morpork to be employed in its service.
As the first two Pegasi were clearly City Watch assets and the Watch had most experience of them, the growing Pegasus Service was under the administrative management of the City Watch, and the horses were therefore under police management and available for police duties. This was understood, so long as they were also available for flights as directed by the Government.
And by inexorable logic, their witches, the only people who could fly them, and most crucially the only people who could give orders to the Feegle navigators who could craw-step them round the Disc(2), needed to be trained and sworn in as Watchwomen. Even if they hardly ever did a Watch shift, and devoted their time to flying for the City.
Which meant Bekki and Sophie were now going to become, at the very least, badged Special Constables and Air Police members.
Neither was looking forward to thirteen weeks in police barracks.
"Got a routine prepared for the Witch Trials?" Bekki asked, to put the awful thought out of her mind.
Sophie nodded. They discussed what they were going to do on the day. Watch training could wait till after the Trials.
"Mum's taking you to the Zoo later, isn't she?" Bekki asked.
Sophie nodded.
"I'm looking forward to that. You know, being able to get into the sort of places the public can't go. To get up close to those animals, Bekki! Wild horses, ponies, donkeys, zebras, you know. Everything!"
Bekki grinned. The world, for Sophie, divided into equine creatures and all the other stuff, that Sophie conceded had to be there as necessary, but which were secondary casting in a world populated by horses. There was probably no changing her.
Spa Lane, Ankh-Morpork.
Agnes Nitt, celebrated singing virtuoso and Witch, sat placidly whilst Ruth Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons completed her portrait. Agnes was keen to see the finished drawing. Ruth was a talented artist, after all. Agnes Nitt had been the subject of many engravings, drawings and latterly iconographs, a lot of which had been done by depressingly under-talented people, so this was nothing new to her. She had been disheartened a little bit right at the start, when Ruth had contemplated the various artists' pads available to her, had assessed a standard A4-sized pad of paper, looked at Agnes critically, then had shaken her head slightly and gone for A3, the next size up. Agnes had noted that Ruth had then looked speculatively at an even larger A2 pad, and had tried not to wince. She wasn't trying to be rude, Agnes realised. Just an artist looking for the appropriately sized canvas.
Just be thankful she didn't go for A1, Agnes reminded herself.
And then, as they were considering the completed sketches together, It happened. It still happened. Even though over the years Agnes had learnt to manage it...
Ruth paused and looked at Agnes thoughtfully.
"I'm not talking to Agnes any more, am I?" Ruth asked, politely. "I mean, you're still Agnes, but you're a different Agnes..."
Perdita X. Nitt grinned back at her.
"No." Perdita said. "You're not. Not as such. At least you're not frightened."
Ruth considered this.
"Because you're still Agnes. But not Agnes. And Agnes is my friend who'd never hurt me. I don't think you'd hurt me either. You'd still be my friend, but a different friend."
Perdita smiled. It was still an Agnes smile. But sharper, more direct.
"Let me try and explain to you how it works." Perdita said. "Agnes probably hasn't noticed. But I think you really need to know how this sort of thing works. Just a feeling I'm getting."
Ruth nodded. "I think I can draw you too. And you'd look different to Agnes. The Agnes inside, the way she really, really, deep down inside, wants to look, and be. Do you mind if I try?"
"Go ahead." Perdita said. "I'd be really interested. We can talk while you draw. And maybe I can talk to the inner you. The Ruth you've got inside, the way you see yourself. You know, the Ruth you really want to be."
Ruth nodded. Then she reached for a far smaller A4 pad of drawing paper.
The Royal Kraal, The Zulu Empire
Paramount Crown Princess Ruth N'Kweze, Queen-Regent Elect, sat imperiously in the smaller place of honour to the right of her father, the Paramount King. Her husband General Denizulu, in full regalia, stood behind and to her right, solid and commanding, a reminder to those gathered as to his status and position. Without looking round, Ruth knew that at least six Ankh-Morpork-trained Assassins were in strategic places around the Hall of Audience, all sworn to her and poised to intervene in the event of any unpleasantness. The Zulu guards lining the Hall were jointly drawn from her own Lionesses, from her father's Guard impi, and from the personal guard of Denizulu. Ruth had brought thirty of her best guardswomen, all armed with the silver-plated assegais, which did indeed make a powerful and memorable spectacle in the sunlight. A retinue, people agreed, which was truly fit for the Queen-Regent-Elect. Ruth had made sure a lot of people got to see her personal guard.
And, one by one, her half-brothers and sisters approached the Throne and made ritual obeisiance to the Heir. Their father had commanded it. He had gone so far as to make it clear that anyone failing to turn up would be disinherited and treated as outlaw, their rank and privileges stripped and their lives forfeit.
Ruth sat impassively as the family, a family as mutually hostile as the Lavishes of Ankh-Morpork, prostrated themselves, one by one, in front of the Heir and the Queen-Regent-Elect. Inside she felt a sort of glee building up. Especially as the most powerful of her half-brothers visibly bit back their bile and spoke the words of loyalty, an oath to serve the Heir and when it came to it, his Mother, with absolute fidelity and loyalty.
A trained Assassin, she noted which ones looked most hostile and wavered on the brink of reluctance to submit. She also knew Sissi, Chakkie and Pee-Jay were also watching and taking notes. For possible use later.
One of the last Princes to appear was her half-brother Clement. Ruth was delighted to see him. She thought he was still in Ankh-Morpork, doing his job at the Assassins' School. Clement was dressed in Central Continent clothing, which caused no small stir; a well-tailored summer suit in pale cloth which accentuated his clerical dog-collar, a sign of his priesthood. He made obeisiance willingly and with every sign of pride and happiness at his sister's preferment.
Their father raised an eyebrow.
"You were excused attendance." the King said. "Because you live and work thousands of miles away. We note you returned voluntarily."
"That is true, Father." Clement said, in his deep commanding voice. "But at this time, as many of your children as could gather here should be here. To declare loyalty to the Crown. To pledge loyalty to the sucession. To unite and to show strength. Besides, I have a human need to greet my sister and to see my new nephew for the first time. And to greet and congratulate my brother-in-law, a man who I esteem."
He nodded to Denizulu.
The King smiled slightly.
"Be welcome, Prince Clement N'Effibl. And I would speak to you privately later."
Spa Lane, Ankh-Morpork.
"I'm not sure." Ruth said. "But it started when I was doing self-portraits. I'm sorry I don't have them to show you, Mummy and Gillian explained they were best kept securely, so they're in Mummy's safe. I don't have the numbers that unlock it."
Ruth paused, and because she was honest, she added
"Famke was doing basic lock-picking at School. When Mummy and Daddy were out one night, she went in there and experimented. She said she was really close to cracking it, but Claude, our butler, explained to her Mummy would get very annoyed if she found out, and it was best if Miss Famke desisted."
Perdita smiled and nodded encouragement to continue.
"I'm sure I could work out how a combining-numbers lock works. It's only numbers and a mechanism."
Perdita smiled again. Pushing the boundaries, expressing rebellion, and questioning authority were what Perdita X. Nitt was all about, after all. She thought these were worthy goals for a girl to strive for, especially if the dominant personality in the body was meek, law-abiding and self-effacing. Or, as Perdita had put it when she was really frustrated with Agnes, a great fat pudding and a doormat.
Ruth, sensing she was with a friend, went on:
"I keep wanting to go in there and do it. But that would be disrespectful of Mummy and like stealing from her or something. But even knowing that, I want to go in there and open her locked safe. Is that wrong of me?"
She breathed out. It felt good to confess.
"Well, no." Perdita said. "So long as you don't get found out, of course. I'd do it, obviously, but I wouldn't actually steal anything. I'd leave things exactly as I found them, and I'd lock up afterwards."
"And Mummy's an Assassin." Ruth added, thoughtfully. "She's probably got other things guarding that safe, that you won't see until they happen."
"That's a consideration, too." Perdita agreed. "And something happened, on the afternoon you decided you'd look at yourself in a mirror, and do those drawings?"
Ruth nodded.
"I'd seen lots of people with no clothes on in Art books, and in the paintings and the statues, when Gillian took me to the Gallery. I could see some of them looked really real, and some of them looked wrong, somehow, as if the artist had never seen a naked lady, and he was just guessing.(3) I thought I'd quite like to draw naked people myself, to see if I could do as well, or even better, but I'd never seen anybody else with no clothes on before. I didn't know how to ask Gillian."
"Not the sort of thing you ask, no." Perdita agreed. "And I think it would have been impossible for you to find a naked model when you needed one. So you realised you had mirrors in your room, and you drew yourself?"
Ruth nodded.
"I had to really make myself do it." Ruth said. "I was scared about it, about people walking in, and what they'd think when they found me with no clothes on. And people do walk into your room. Without knocking. When you're only eight."
"And so you did." Perdita said. Ruth nodded. She went back to her drawing.
"It was like... this little voice in my head. Like it was me but not me. Somebody else in there. She said "Who cares what people think? Do it anyway!" It was like the other voice was really really impatient and upset with me. So I did."
Perdita X. Nitt grinned, this time.
"And what's her name?" she asked. Ruth looked up, startled.
The Royal Kraal, The Zulu Empire
"No mysteries." Clement said. "I got a lift with the Pegasus Service. I arrived with the messenger who brought the mail and despatches from Vetinari. It occured to me at a time like this you might welcome a friendly voice."
He carried on tidying away the vestments of an Ionian priest. In Ruth's allocated quarters at the Royal Kraal, he'd been pleased to conduct an Ionian Naming on his nephew. Ruth appreciated this, and a small number of selected guests had acted as witnesses. Somehow it felt more meaningful than the full-pageantry Presentation, and involved a blessing from the Gods too.
"So Vetinari knows you're here." Ruth said. A thought struck her. "Did he suggest it?"
Clement shook his head.
"He didn't oppose it." her brother said. "I was able to bring the Guild mail, anyway." He nodded to Precious Jewel. "And personal messages from Lord Downey and others. Lady T'Malia says "well done", and reminds you that you can always call on her for personal advice. Lord Downey congratulates you and – forgive me, I don't know yet how much you know?"
Ruth made an educated guess.
"Father really is dying, isn't he?"
Her brother nodded and reached out his hands. He took the hands of both his sisters.
"His Lordship said "Prepare for Empire."" Clement told her, gently. "And sooner than you'd think."
"You spoke to Father. Privately." Precious Jewel said. It was a question. Her brother looked at her, gravely.
"Yes. Privately." he emphasised. "And as a priest, a lot of our conversation was under the seal of the confessional. But Father believes he will be dead by, at latest, eighteen months from now. The cancer is too advanced to cure."
Ruth wondered why tears were prickling her eyes. She'd hardly been close to her father, after all. But still...
"Weep first." Clement told her, gently. "Then, Your Majesty, my sister, prepare for Empire. Father wants you to begin to assume the role before he goes. So he can guide you. And several of our brothers need watching."
Spa Lane, Ankh-Morpork.
"When I first had dollies. When I was little. I gave them personalities. One had really long red hair, like Mummy and my sisters. I called her Yolande. Another favourite dolly was Anri. They did all the things I didn't." said Ruth.
Perdita nodded.
"And then when you got a little older and didn't play with dollies any more, because other things were more interesting. Anri and Yolande are still on a shelf somewhere. But this other voice in your head. You'd be surprised how many other people have got one. It's not unusual, and you're not alone."
Ruth nodded. The pace of her drawing slackened slightly as if she was thinking.
"I always feel as if I don't fit in. I don't have red hair like my sisters. Like most of my family. I'd really love to have their red hair. Instead I get this mousy-brown. As if I'm not really their sister. I worry about that."
"It was like that for me. And Agnes. When we were growing up." Perdita said, sympathetically. "Except for the red hair. Agnes got black hair. I think that's one thing she managed to get right."
"It got stronger when I got into that fight at school. And stabbed the other girl in the hand." she said. "Mummy and Daddy thought that was down to Mummy being an Assassin and something I got from Mummy. Maybe that's right. But all I know is, the other me took over. I heard her screaming in my head Are you really going to let a fat stupid cow like Maggie Bracewell push you around? I'm tired of being Ruth the meek soft kid! And she took over and did the stabbing." (4)
Perdita smiled and said nothing.
"And then I had that fight with the Things in the Dungeon Dimensions. I had to go and steal a box of matches from Dorothea first. Dorothea's our cook. I felt bad about that but the other voice in my head told me I had to do it. Errr... and then I killed a lot of the Things and cheered on Bekki and Johanna when they went in with swords. But that was me, and it wasn't me at the same time, if you see what I mean."
"I get the point." Perdita said. "I see the point. More so than you might think."
"And Bekki and Famke are so confident about things." Ruth said. "They always seem to know what to do. And Shauna, who's sort of my nanny, but isn't. I wish I could be more like them!"
Perdita looked sympathetic.
"The other me in my head is like them. She doesn't swear as much as Shauna and she's not as fighty as Famke but she's been getting stronger in me since..." Ruth paused and made a few last pencil strokes. "The drawing's done. What do you think?"
Perdita reached out to admire the drawing. It might have been of Agnes Nitt. But this Agnes was a lot slimmer. A lot trimmer. She wore witch black with assurance and style. She was sharper, brighter, more purpose, more attitude...
Then Ruth closed her eyes. She trembled slightly. Then opened her eyes again. A definite change had happened. This Ruth looked as if she was modelling her poise and attitude on her sister Famke. She grinned, took in the weapons on the wall, and said
"Wow! I'm here! I'm in charge!"
"For now." Perdita X. Nitt said. "Enjoy it while it lasts. She'll take over again soon. I know."
The girl sitting opposite Perdita grinned confidently and stretched out a hand.
"You're Perdita." She said. "I was listening. While soppy Ruth did the talking. I'm Anri-Yolande. Let's be friends!"
"Delighted!" said Perdita X. Nitt.
Much later, Agnes Nitt had a long conversation with Bekki. Agnes had been a horrified spectator when Perdita had surfaced and coaxed Anri-Yolande into the daylight.
"You never go completely under." Agnes had said. "You're there, as a spectator, and you see and hear everything."
Bekki nodded. She turned over the two drawings Ruth had made, one of Agnes, and one of Perdita. Both had solidity and reality. Quite a lot of solidity and reality, in the case of Agnes. Bekki decided it would be cruel to discuss the differences. But Perdita had reality in the drawing. As if she'd been present, physically, in the room.
"I bet that applies to Ruth too." Bekki said. "When her not-imaginary-at-all-friend surfaced. Ruth would have been listening and noticing everything about her."
Bekki considered the drawings again. Ruth had really given Perdita, Agnes' shadow-self, reality and depth and presence. Bekki wondered what would happen if Ruth had the idea to draw Anri-Yolande, a sort of other-self-portrait.
It might help her integrate the two, Bekki thought. Just like Agnes got the Perdita thing under control and got the two sides of herself working together as well as they do.
Second and third thoughts kicked in.
It might work, you know." Bekki said. "You're in your thirties. Perdita started to come out in you when you were five or six or seven. And she got stronger after you turned thirteen or fourteen. Then Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax, mayhersoulhavemercyontheGods, trained you as a Witch and taught you how to deal with it. The two of you have learnt how to get on together. You've been doing that for nearly thirty years, after all. Ruth needs the same guidance."
Agnes nodded.
"Agnes can work with Ruth. Where needed, Perdita can work with Anri-Yolande. Maybe it balances out." Bekki said.
Agnes smiled.
"Perhaps you're right." She said. "The question is now – what do we tell your parents?"
"Let's make a plan." Bekki said.
The City Zoo, Ankh-Morpork
"I've got it, now." said Sophie Rawlinson. She stretched out on the ground behind the tranquillised zebra. Kneeling up next to her, Doctor Johanna Smith-Rhodes watched attentively. Some jobs needed more than two pairs of hands.
"It's an awkward presentation." Sophie said. "The head and one foreleg are trying to come out but the other foreleg's folded back on itself and still in the womb. We just need to rearrange things inside. If I hold the head back we should be able to avoid a caesarean, and if you pull gently on the twine I've looped round the leg when I tell you, I should be able to reach further in and guide things and ease the other fore into the right position... I've managed to get another loop around that leg..."
Johanna did her part. Sophie grunted with exertion.
"It's this business of trying to keep some parts in when everything in the dam's system is trying to push them out... ah, here it comes..."
Sophie rolled out and away, withdrawing her arm, drawing steeadily on her length of binding twine, as a newborn zebra foal arrived in the world. They watched it stumble onto its hooves and blink in the light. Johanna appreciated having somebody on hand who really knew what she was doing with equines. It made many things easier.
"Has anyone ever tried to domesticate them?" Sophie asked, as the zebra foal went looking for milk.
Johanna smiled.
"There was a med lord once. A relative of the Remkin femily. Well, perheps not med es such. But Sybil told me the Remkin men get odd ideas, end wish to try them out to see if they work. When Sybil Remkin's great-grendfether was the elmost-the-lest governor of the colonies in Howondaland, his brother, or maybe his cousin, went out there. He hed the idea of raising zebra foals as if they were horses. He got six of them trained to pull a coach.(5) It ell went quite well, until one day the zebras he thought he hed domesticated met a wild herd, end decided they'd quite like to join it."
Johanna shook her head.
"They reverted. Tipped the coach over end broke the traces. Efter dregging it uncontrollably ecross the Veldt for some miles. Thet Remkin hes a grave in Howondaland."
"So not a good idea, then." Sophie said, watching the Zoo's herd of zebras. They were gathered at a suspicious distance from the mare and new foal, seemingly waiting for the humans and attendent Zoo golems to finish what they were doing and move on. Sophie stood up, and reflected it might be a good idea to wash down a right arm and upper body that had recently been up to the shoulder in zebra.
Johanna smiled.
"I hev other enimels you may wish to see. You know, if you do not get a Steading in Lencre, I could find a position for you et the Zoo. A Witch with your skills is en esset."
Sophie smiled with pride. She'd worked out that Bekki's mother was adept at spotting talented people and helping their careers along. She supposed it came from teaching at the Guild school: the Assassins must graduate more people than actually wanted to be active practicing Assassins, after all. Sophie wondered how that worked. Somebody spent seven years learning all the skills and passed out. A lot of the things they taught must be transferable skills. Whoever was Careers Officer there must have an interesting job...
"Got a pony or two I'd quite like you to take a look at." Johanna said. "Rare species. Lencre Hill Ponies. I reckon a Lencre-trained Witch should find them an interesting chellenge."
Sophie beamed with joy. Lancre Hill Ponies. She'd seen them, one of the last wild herds, from a distance up in the foothills, but had never been able to get close. Vicious, untameable, attitudinal, capable of dealing a nasty bite or a kick if you got too close. People had been gored to death by Lancre Hill Ponies. And now she was to go into an enclosure with them and see them at very close quarters. Sophie beamed with delight. Life really couldn't get any better than this.
Johanna smiled contentedly. She believed in matching the right people to the right jobs. It was how you got things done, and got things done well. She reflected that Shauna O'Hennigan was leaving school in a couple of weeks. This was good. She had a job lined up for Shauna too, full-time. Just to see how she got on. Johanna considered a bright and confident girl, who in normal circumstances might have left school into the sort of unskilled or semi-skilled occupations which seemed to be the only ones available to people brought up in a place like Dimwell. Or even to poverty, crime and desperation measures, just to scratch by, and a slum house with an exorbitant rent attached to go home to. Well, we can do better than that...
Johanna also wondered how Agnes Nitt was getting on with Ruth. The two of them seemed to have really hit it off. She considered this was good for her youngest daughter. Shauna as a sort of big sister to look up to, Gillian Lansbury to teach her Art, and now, with an unquantified streak of magic, another sort of Godsmother who was not only literate in Music, but who was also a Witch, and could deal with issues arising on that side. A very special and talented daughter, steered to the right sort of guides and teachers. Perfect.
Idly, Johanna wondered what Dorothea was doing for the evening dinner tonight. It would be good to come home to. She walked with Sophie, on a perfect summer evening, round to the highly-fenced reinforced enclosure that contained the Zoo's collection of Lancre Hill Ponies.
Again, to be continued.
(1) Call-back to my tale Bad Hair Day.
(2) And the only people who could hope to have those orders obeyed by the Feegle
(3) Consider those mediaeval paintings and drawings, where the artist – sometimes a cloistered monk who is doing the monastic equivalent of a dirty doodle in the margin – is aware of the general principles of the female nude form, but is hampered by never having actually, you know, ever seenone. The results can look a bit strange and oddly shaped.
(4) A defence Sam Vimes and the City Watch have heard many times, and which they – and the presiding judge – have never been persuaded by. In this case, almost uniquely, it possibly has some validity.
(5) This was indeed done in the Victorian era by an eccentric nobleman with money and time on his hands. Look up Lord Walter Rothschild to see how he managed it.
The Notes Dump:
The place where background notes, proof I've done the research and I'm Showing My Working, and odd little things not strictly relevant to this tale, go to sit until they're needed. A waiting room for ideas.
Anri-Yolande, Ruth Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons's emerging Perdita, is based on South African rebel and punk rocker Anri du Toit (Yolande), one half of punk-ish rock duo, Die Antwoord, whose songs are about angry disaffected South African white youth from the "zef" end of society – a sort of Afrikaaner Patti Smith. The music is so-so but you can get the idea of pissed-off young white Saffies in dead-end jobs or no jobs living in social housing in the cities, questioning what their society is about: punk rock coming late to SA but in much the same sort of circumstances it came to Britain and the USA. This seems like the right sort of starting-point for Ruth's inner "Perdita" to emerge… alienation and anomie. (Hmm: Anomia?) And who better to realise Anri is in there but Perdita X. Nitt…