Vida de Villiers/Jesus Character Analysis

The man told Bhekithemba how he had come up with his theory of flight on September 3, 1978, as he watched elephants swim across the Zambezi River. What had made the first elephant cross was that it could see the other bank of the river—the elephant would not have swum into the ocean, of this the man was certain. What made the other elephants follow was the successful passage of the first. The man wanted people to know that they were capable of flight, and at first he had erroneously thought that they would realize this if he taught them how to build airplanes. After watching the elephants, he understood that what was needed was merely his own belief in flight. If people saw him build a giant pair of silver wings, then they too would believe that they could fly.

It was only when he saw Genie looking at the things he had created with awe and wonder, only when he saw one hand traveling to her mouth to cover an “O” that had already escaped, only when he saw the other hand reaching out to touch him gently on the shoulder, only when she looked at the things he had created as things of utter beauty, only when she whispered, “I knew it. I knew you were special. I knew it,” her brilliant eyes never leaving the sculptures, it was only then that he realized that the things he created could actually have lives of their own—beyond him.

He heard his father’s voice say: “There are many ways to be a man. Always remember that.” He knew that in uttering these words his father had prepared him for precisely a moment such as this. His father had spoken the words at a time when Vida had needed absolute understanding and acceptance. And this was a time in Genie’s life when she needed absolute understanding and acceptance.

In a house filled with the proud collections and clutter of Jakob de Villiers’s life, Blue’s absence seems like a haunting.

“Promise me you will never speak to me of love,” she said. She looked at him and ran the back of her hand idly over his chest. “To not have to speak of love is such a freeing thing.”

“We live in a time of HIV and AIDS,” Bhekithemba continues. “Everyone knows someone in [the] hospital who is fighting to survive. That fact alone—that we all know someone who is struggling to be alive—should be the headline every day, but it is not. It is our reality, the way we live now, our truth. So of course we cannot acknowledge it, let alone print it.”

Krystle looks at the telltale line left behind by the adhesive tape. She gets down on her knees and traces the grimy demarcation with her index finger. Tracing the evidence that Genie’s life with them had not been as easy as they all liked to remember. They had loved her in their own way, the only way they knew how . . . jealously . . . possessively . . . imperfectly.

“It is too intimate, this interference, this role the state plays in our lives,” Minenhle says, looking him in the eye. “Too intimate.”

Genie chooses this particular moment, with the survivors as her witnesses, to fly away on a giant pair of silver wings . . . and leave her heart behind to calcify into the most precious and beautiful something that the world has ever seen.

As the survivors watch her ascend she experiences love as the release of a promise long held.

The man told Bhekithemba how he had come up with his theory of flight on September 3, 1978, as he watched elephants swim across the Zambezi River. What had made the first elephant cross was that it could see the other bank of the river—the elephant would not have swum into the ocean, of this the man was certain. What made the other elephants follow was the successful passage of the first. The man wanted people to know that they were capable of flight, and at first he had erroneously thought that they would realize this if he taught them how to build airplanes. After watching the elephants, he understood that what was needed was merely his own belief in flight. If people saw him build a giant pair of silver wings, then they too would believe that they could fly.

It was only when he saw Genie looking at the things he had created with awe and wonder, only when he saw one hand traveling to her mouth to cover an “O” that had already escaped, only when he saw the other hand reaching out to touch him gently on the shoulder, only when she looked at the things he had created as things of utter beauty, only when she whispered, “I knew it. I knew you were special. I knew it,” her brilliant eyes never leaving the sculptures, it was only then that he realized that the things he created could actually have lives of their own—beyond him.

He heard his father’s voice say: “There are many ways to be a man. Always remember that.” He knew that in uttering these words his father had prepared him for precisely a moment such as this. His father had spoken the words at a time when Vida had needed absolute understanding and acceptance. And this was a time in Genie’s life when she needed absolute understanding and acceptance.

In a house filled with the proud collections and clutter of Jakob de Villiers’s life, Blue’s absence seems like a haunting.

“Promise me you will never speak to me of love,” she said. She looked at him and ran the back of her hand idly over his chest. “To not have to speak of love is such a freeing thing.”

“We live in a time of HIV and AIDS,” Bhekithemba continues. “Everyone knows someone in [the] hospital who is fighting to survive. That fact alone—that we all know someone who is struggling to be alive—should be the headline every day, but it is not. It is our reality, the way we live now, our truth. So of course we cannot acknowledge it, let alone print it.”

Krystle looks at the telltale line left behind by the adhesive tape. She gets down on her knees and traces the grimy demarcation with her index finger. Tracing the evidence that Genie’s life with them had not been as easy as they all liked to remember. They had loved her in their own way, the only way they knew how . . . jealously . . . possessively . . . imperfectly.

“It is too intimate, this interference, this role the state plays in our lives,” Minenhle says, looking him in the eye. “Too intimate.”

Genie chooses this particular moment, with the survivors as her witnesses, to fly away on a giant pair of silver wings . . . and leave her heart behind to calcify into the most precious and beautiful something that the world has ever seen.

As the survivors watch her ascend she experiences love as the release of a promise long held.