So I was studying psychology at university and sharing an apartment with three other students just across the road from the taxi rank. Sometimes I would here someone, a woman, shouting loudly, and one day, from my window I could see her down there, arguing and screaming at some imaginary person.
The winters harsh in the Cape and one really cold day when I saw her walking around in short sleeves, I took an old jacket and went to give it to her. Another day I found her sleeping outside on the floor and so I took a spare blanket and duvet and whatever I was eating for dinner that day.
Whenever I would pass her in the streets she would ask me for some money to buy coffee. I didn’t want to give her money so I said I would be glad to make her a cup of tea, and so she came and we sat down at the front of our building and drank tea.
She started talking but it was very difficult to understand what she was trying to say. It was all mixed up, like lots of different thoughts and delusions broken up into pieces and she was trying to give the pieces to me in random order. I know what it’s like to have difficulty communicating with people so I just listened patiently and tried to relate to her and converse with her. After around fifteen minutes of this broken speech she finally said something meaningful. I was telling her about how much I miss my daughter and she said something, I don’t recall the exact words, but it made sense and actually helped me. But talking to her and getting to know her made me happy and also sad, and later, in my room, I cried, for her.
Another day I came home late from campus and because of loadshedding (electricity cuts) our front gate wasn’t opening and I was locked out until midnight when the power would come back. So I was sitting on the step watching the traffic lights change colors and Tertia walked by and stopped, she didn’t see me, she was looking up the road. She stood there for a long time like a statue, like fifteen minutes just looking into the distance, and then finally she turned and walked on down the road.
Another time I was heading home from campus, late at night. There was this ‘Embodiment Conference’ online and I was using the free wifi on campus. I was on crutches because of a knee injury, and when I got to my street I stopped for a rest and I found Tertia sitting on the floor, on her own, next to a bin. So I sat down next to her, not too close, not too far. She started humming a song, ‘Dancing Queen’ by Abba. The next time I connected to the wifi on campus I downloaded the song.
A few days later I was on my way to the movie theater at the student center and I found her near the entrance talking to two female students who couldn’t understand her and so they just walked away leaving her standing there mumbling to herself. So I bought her a cup of coffee and we sat under the trees and I played ‘Dancing Queen’ on my phone, and she started singing along and moving her fingers and hands and tapping and bobbing… and just like that she was there, she was present, her real self, talking to me like a “normal” person… a breakthrough thanks to Abba!
At university we had a module called Abnormal Psychology where we were learning about all the psychological disorders as they are categorized in the Diagnostic Statistical Manual of the Psychiatric Association. According to the DSM-5 the criteria for schizophrenia include hallucinations, delusions, disorganized speech and catatonic behavior. I had seen each of these in her over the months and I began researching it to see how I can help my friend.
I reached out to the University, the head of department, but she never replied to my emails and messages. I reached out to other organizations and churches but no one was able to help. Someone suggested that I take her to the hospital where she can get psychological treatment and medication. So the next time I saw her I suggested this and she became upset and walked away yelling. I don’t think she wanted to have anything to do with any hospitals (too many bad experiences). She also didn’t want to go to the shelter. The shelter people told me that people like her are too disruptive and they don’t obey the rules. I told them she has a mental condition and needs special consideration and they laughed.
I noticed that she felt embarassed about her appearance and condition. Being homeless she was kind of dirty and smelly most of the time and now that she had a friend she felt ashamed. I asked my flat mates but they were uncomfortable about letting a stranger use our shower. It was the middle of the Covid pandemic and so I could appreciate their concerns, but one day, when no-one was home, I let her in and prepared a big bucket of hot water for her and soap and she went in and started washing.
After half an hour I went to knock to check that everything was ok, and she said she’s still busy. Another fifteen minutes later and I was getting worried. I asked her to get dressed and please come out now, but she wasn’t responding but I could hear her still washing and sloshing in there, so I thought ok let me give it some more time. After another fifteen minutes I started knocking more loudly and asked her in a stern voice to please get dressed and come out now.
Eventually she unlocked the door, after about another half hour later. She was clean and fresh and happy. We had tea and toast and then she left. When I went into the bathroom I was amazed to see our floor rag spotless clean hanging on the shower door. It was this filthy old rag that one the guys brought in, that I had tried to clean before but given up because it was just irredeemably disgustingly filthy, but she didn’t give up. It was probably her obsessive compulsive fixation that caused her to wash this thing, and that’s what she was doing in there all that time. I was amazed, and I told her so, when I saw her the next day. she was so embarrassed, but the cool thing is that she was talking to me like a friend, coherent, sensible just having a normal everyday conversation, and chuckling about her odd behavior.
Another friend of mine studying psych for theology put me onto a theorist she really liked and through that I discovered a brilliant piece of research and book by a group of family therapists called ‘Psychotherapy for the Whole Family – Case Histories of Family Therapy of Schizophrenia in the Home and Clinic’. It was written in the 70’s and these guys did family therapy in the homes of Schizophrenic patients and in every case they found a complex sticky family dynamic that was responsible for the patient’s symptoms, and that when the patient made progress and felt better, others in the family (usually one or both parents) seemed to regress and feel worse.
I didn’t get much time to really unpack Tertia’s family issues with her. She wasn’t really my patient or client, she was my friend. I tried to probe but didn’t get much, just indications that it was something she couldn’t really talk about even if she wanted to. So her healing process with me was more about her feeling safe, and heard, and cared for, feeling a genuine human connection.
Exams were almost over and it was coming time for me to leave and so I told her that I would be leaving soon. Part of me wanted to take her on a healing adventure but I didn’t have much money left and I needed all of it to get to Mauritius to see my daughter. The last time I saw Tertia was a warm evening on the Rooi Plein (the long red brick walkway on campus). She was unpacking her little box of bits and pieces, scraps and trinkets. I took my key off it’s chain and gave her the little billiard ball number ’13’ that was my good-luck bad-luck charm and she put it into her box. A couple passing by gave us two cups of hot delicious coffee and she got up started walking. I tried to keep up with her but with my bad knee I lagged behind and she disappeared into the night…
