came back in the post: “Great to
hear from you. How are you? Love,
Dad.” He gave me his address in
Cape Town, in a neighborhood
called Camps Bay, and a few
months later I went down to visit.
I’ll never forget that day. It was
probably one of the weirdest days of
my life, going to meet a person I
knew and yet did not know at all.
My memories of him felt just out of
reach. I was trying to remember
how he spoke, how he laughed,
what his manner was. I parked on
his street and started looking for his
address. Camps Bay is full of older,
semiretired white people, and as I