I’d walk through fire for ID book

Durban — You know how the couch loves plans and lists.

There’s one for every eventuality, some more important than others.

For peace of mind, there’s one we could absolutely not do without even though it is hopefully one we will never have to implement: the emergency house fire evacuation plan. The recent deadly veld fires in KZN inspired an updated inventory and rekindled (sorry) memories.

As a young kid back in the Dark Ages, I saw a house burn down. It was at night and weirdly beautiful in a primal way, but the main thing that struck and stuck was the noise. Fires of that magnitude are wild beasts and their roar is overwhelming, overpowering the awful sounds of the falling roof, shattering glass and collapsing walls.

Another was of Gran and Grandad’s Uvongo retirement home. They were among the first people to build there in the mid-’70s. It was surrounded by wild veld, with only two very distant neighbours. It was a thrilling adventure for the young grandkids to run around in nature and a haven for birds, snakes, lizards, small antelope, monkeys and other small mammals. We spent just about every weekend and school holidays exploring.

There were frequent fires, generally put out by the local firefighters without much ado.

But one was different – I can’t remember all the circumstances – but the dozens of Strelitzia nicolai dotted around the landscape, one quite near the edge of the garden, kept reigniting. We watched this (from inside, and ready to flee) for hours.

The adults probably knew why this happened, but a brief science research council chat with Prof Google didn’t have an explanation. Logic says it’s because the nicolai is a woody tree with lots of crannies that could hide embers for a breeze to reignite. There are a few in our jungle garden which the bats, birds and monkeys adore, but which I really hope never catch fire.

Another major contributor to the update were some alarming reports from Home Affairs about discontinuing the ancient green ID books.

Everyone knows that without an ID, you may as well live in a cave – nothing is possible if you don’t have that vital proof of life.

You’d not think that was the case if you based your understanding on Home Affairs’ lackadaisical approach to obtaining one. Or to the mixed messaging coming out of the department, admittedly in a tumultuous post-election period.

In June, former minister Aaron Motsoaledi said the green IDs would be discontinued. Cue hysteria on our home front. Later, DHA deputy director-general Thulani Mavuso said the department hoped to phase them out within the next two to three years.

This month, new Home Affairs Minister Leon Schreiber said no timeline had been set.

I’m asking the universe to let me die before they’re killed off.

The one thing for which I will singe body bits and hobble through fire to protect is my old green ID book.

Any dealings with government departments fill me with dread and horror. That dull inhumanity, apathy, frequent incompetence and forms and photos. I just can’t.

I’m grateful that houseboundness means I can’t drive and have happily let my driver’s licence expire in a purse pocket.

Trying to get a new ID is on the list of impossibles. Finding an e-hail ride big enough to hold a rented-for-the-day wheelchair for the mission is an unimaginable obstacle.

So in the event of a couch fire, once the dogs are free and the kids are safe, I will emerge from the smoke and flames doing a belly crawl with the old ID book clenched between my teeth.

Anything else can burn.

Independent on Saturday