Saturday, April 24, 2010

When water is thicker than blood (1972)

It was five minutes into our 2nd break. On this day the matrics were acting really childish. It was their last week of school and their juvenile antics were starting to get on my nerves. Gone was the prim and proper behavior of the past year, replaced by conduct one would normally associate with a primary school. I was getting truly pissed off. Part of my mood was of course due to jealousy. Jealous that I could not be one of them, like my brother, that will soon shrug off the shackles of a verkrampte predominantly Afrikaans school. A school where we were subjected to weekly hair inspections and that only allowed short back and sides. Square cuts were out. Hell they even had weekly panty inspections carried out by the sexless croons that were but a few years away from retirement. Somehow they believed that this would fortify chastity. It did not help or make sense. It was just for the show. No teenager would dare to try and get leg-over at school. The teenagers still fucked like rabbits and annually quite a few unwanted pregnancies saw the light. This of course was totally taboo at the time and resulted in great shame on the families involved. South Africa never really experienced the free love of the 60’s or swinging 70’s. We had three 50’s and went right into the 80’s. Maybe the panty inspections were done to keep the male teachers from lusting after the teenage girls as there was quite a lot of that going on behind the scenes.

The paper water bomb hit me so hard in my face that my nose started bleeding. It was a big one, made and thrown by Hendrik Bruwer, the star flanker of the first rugby team who two weeks prior had broken his nose rather badly in a rugby match. I was soaked from the top of my head to mid-chest and a thin trickle of blood was making a rather interesting abstract pink artwork on my white school shirt. Around me everyone were screeching with laughter. Hendrik was big. He easily had 6 inches and 25lbs on me. That however did not deter me and we were soon circling each other like two peacocks. Hendrik’s girlfriend kept on shouting: “It was only a joke, please, it was only a joke.”

Hendrik tried his best to talk his way out of the fight. He was a school monitor and he did not know what to make of me because very few would dare to challenge him. I also had a reputation as a brawler and was the provincial boxing champ in my weight group. He however believed that his sheer bulk was more than a match for me. I was apprehensive but knew about his weak spot, his nose, and stood my ground. He threatened and blustered to get out of the situation but I was not going to back down. He refused to apologize as he maintained that it was an accident. He stated that he did not intend to hit me and also could not afford to lose face in front of his girlfriend and mates. He started to get really insulting. Telling me that I might believe that I was a force to be reckoned within the confines of the filthy and poor military base where we lived but that I was a bloody nobody in town i.e. the real world. This in turn wounded my brother deeply as he was ashamed of the humble conditions we lived in and also believed that Hendrik was his close friend. My brother tried to hide his hurt and thus minimize the effect of the insult by saying: “Ag moer him Hendrik.” (“Oh fuck him up Hendrik”)

I felt something inside of me tear and knew that it would never mend again. My brother turned on me to hide his shame. I saw red and when the mist cleared Hendrik was lying curled up on the tarmac clutching his nose with both hands trying unsuccessfully to stem the flow of blood. Apparently I hit him with a swift left to the nose and broke it in the exact same spot as before. I searched for my brother amongst the shocked onlookers but he was nowhere to be seen.

It is now 38 years since my brother and I have done no more than acknowledge each other’s existence. We treat one another with respect but aloofness. Love and the family bond are not recognized.

Hendrik’s rugby career ended that day and I got caned six of the best from the vice-principal who was also the rugby coach.


Gail Patric said...

Your story has uncovered and laid bare realities about growing up in Oudtshoorn in the 70's. My God, it was very very "verkramp" (conservative)Yes, I remember those panty inspetions, not forgetting the hem inspections......or the fact that we had to wear vests under our school shirts in case our bras enticed the males. Do you remember dancing was a SIN as it could lead to sex! I guess we are all products of that upbringing and era. This has made me feel a little sad and I am thinking about Deon Opperman's play Stille Nag...

Joe said...

Gerrie Hugo praat loutere KAK.

Hy is 'n fokking hond, wat sy eie Ma sou naai.

Suid Afrika kan dankbaar wees dat hy in Swede bly. Volgens sy uiteringe is ek egter verbaas dat hy nie met 'n HIV pisitiewe meid van Babalegi getroud is nie!! Of is dit omrede hulle nie geil werkloosheids voordele in Babelegi het nie, maar wel in Swede???

Hy is 'n opperste POES

Gail Patric said...

Joe how dare you leave a comment like that! As for your language I suggest you wash your mouth out......

Gerrie Hugo said...


Anonymous said...

Jou moer!
Jy het hulp nodig my mal maatjie.
Gerrie Hugo

Gerrie Hugo said...

I believe that Joe's comment should be translated into English so that a wider audience can see what a vile, icky little bug he is:

"Gerrie Hugo speaks utmost SHIT

He is a fucking dog, who would have fuked his own mother.

South Africa can be thankful that he now resides in Sweden. According to his utterances I am however surprised that he is not married to a HIV positive Maid (Joe however uses the Afrikaans derogatory and racist term for domestic servant - meid) from Babalegi!! Or is it because there are not superb unemployment benefits in Babalegi but do in Sweden???

He is utmost CUNT"

Note: I tried to translate his message as correctly as possible and his use of punctuation is exactly as he wrote it.

As I am sensitive to these things, I detect that Joe seems to be slightly pissed off with me. The why really baffles me so I decided to use his post to do profiling as they do in the TV series Criminal minds.
Herewith then an effort to detect who Joe might be as he is too much of a coward to use his real name and/or surname:

1. He is a coward and writes vile things like this because it gives him a feeling of power. He probably uses the note as a masturbation vision/tool. Something he does a lot and usually comes off on the vision of black domestic servants from Babalegi.
2. He is of a low intellect as he can not differentiate between fiction, reality or augmented reality. That is why he states that I talk shit based on short story that I nowhere stated to be the truth. He probably calls the Grimm brothers "fucking liars" as well.
3. He is a white, middle-aged racist male that served in the Security Forces of the Apartheid's Regime. There he was promoted to incompetence at an early stage of his career. His refusal to use English illustrates this and the only people in South Africa who hates me with such a passion is the murderers, I exposed, that served in the Security Forces.
4. He served within or close to a covert organization of the Security Forces and has delusions of grandeur that he is very important and dangerous. He believes that he can summon his contacts with the snap of a finger. Sadly most are either dead or institutionalized.
5. He believes that he knows Swedish Labour Laws and/or benefits or probably confuse the country with the UK.
6. He believes that he knows a lot about me but his ignorance already shows in the fact that he does not even know that I am a personal assistant to handicapped people. That I have been doing this since two days after my arrival in Sweden (2002) to date and that it is a rewarding and humbling experience. Maybe he should try it?
Note: Your sources are lying to you Joe!
7. He probably suffers from a non- treatable venereal disease which he contracted with his last visit to Babalegi.
8. He resides in Pretoria or vicinity because he knows of Babalegi and where it is.
9. He has an Oedipus complex. The disgust he tries to express with "would have fucked his own mother" clearly illustrates the denial he is in concerning this condition. He has wet-dreams about incest.
10. He is probably single as I can not picture anybody knowing this vile, crude, filthy creature and still wants to be in an relationship with him or close to him. He is disgusting.
11. He is a misogynist because he perceives "CUNT" as the ultimate insult.
12. He probably is a psychopath.
13. He will proclaim to be deeply religious.

Seek help. It might not be too late. The use of multiple exclamation marks and question marks speaks of a very sick mind.