A Murder of Crows by David Rotenberg Page A

who thought he was just so fucking clever. Well, Mr. Professor, nobody uses me. I use them. And you, Mr. Bigshot, you don’t get it. Or the rest of them who think they’re so much smarter—so much better—than me.
    He put on an oven mitt and picked up the can of bubbling soup and took a long swallow. It was hot—and it burned—but Walter Jones didn’t care. Not a bit.

18
A DREAM OF SOUTH AFRICA AND NAMIBIA—T EQUALS 1 MONTH PLUS TO T MINUS 21 DAYS
    DECKER TAUGHT IN THE MORNINGS AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CAPE Town, a school that religiously followed his teaching methods and had even produced two PhD theses based on his unique approaches to acting.
    More importantly, the school was now producing some of the finest young actors in the English-speaking world. The students were bright, ambitious and talented. But almost every white student eventually approached Decker about the possibility of working in Canada, since they realised that the sins of their parents were being visited upon them in a fairly draconian fashion. To be blunt, South Africa’s affirmative action policy was unapologetically driving many whites from the country. NGO hypocrites always defended affirmative action with the blather of “Yeah but would the whites rather be in their position or in the position of the blacks?”
    Only those who don’t have to suffer the brunt of discrimination would talk this way. It’s the talk of the self-righteous who stand to lose nothing themselves.
    Decker felt it was wrong to visit the sins of the parents on their children—period, full stop.
    In the afternoons he rehearsed the two short plays and was excited by what he found in the pieces and by the raw talent of some of the students.
    Several professional actors (almost all of whom were University of Cape Town Drama grads) sat in on his classes and rehearsals. At firstthe university had objected, but Decker had insisted that the pros be permitted to audit his classes. Shortly he organised evening classes for the pros—well, actually, for a specific pro, an extraordinary creature named Tinnery who had shown up to watch his third class.
    She was a graceful Afrikaans beauty—strong of body, strong of heart, and strong of head—and she was talent that walked and talked.
    Decker turned in profile to the attentive actors and pointed at his nose. “Your nose is attached directly to an ancient part of your brain. Modern man doesn’t use his nose much except to steer clear of cesspools and the like. But modern man is only the end product of all the creatures who have come before him. And those men and women used their noses, and the knowledge that they gained is still stored in our brains.
    â€œThe human brain consists of three parts. Up here the frontal lobes, which in fact make us human. The frontal lobes control the middle section—the mammal portion of the brain—which in turn controls the most ancient part of our brains, the reptilian part.
    â€œWhen we sleep it’s the frontal lobes that sleep. That’s why we have nightmares. With the frontal lobes resting the other two parts of the brain tell us what they saw that day—somewhat different than what the frontal lobes saw.
    â€œHave you ever been in the middle of a nightmare and suddenly you pop up and say, ‘That’s enough, you’re scaring me?’
    â€œWell, who exactly are you talking to?
    â€œYour frontal lobes are talking to the reptilian part of the brain. You may have seen an indifferent casting director that afternoon. But your reptilian self saw a huge cobra, its hood wide open, ready to strike. A nightmare.
    â€œAnd the reptilian part of your brain understands smell.
    â€œScent helps merchants sell things. Popcorn hasn’t tasted good in a hundred years—but the smell of it still prompts you to buy it.
    â€œSame for burgers and other foods.
    â€œBut smell is also an extraordinary tool for the