Dragons & Butterflies: Sentenced to Die, Choosing to Live (11 page)

Final exams were just around the corner. The least I could do, I decided, was to make a last attempt to pass. Failing would be an embarrassment. I had always scraped through without studying, but I knew there was no way I could get through finals using the same strategy.

In the weeks leading up to finals, Craig would fetch me from the Arc and we would go to the library at Wits University. We managed to get our hands on the previous year’s exam papers from Damelin College, and this turned out to be a huge advantage. I don’t think I had read a single one of the setwork books during my school career, so I needed to take all the short-cuts available to me.

Early one evening, while I was waiting for Craig to fetch me for our regular study session at the library, one of the Arc girls, Melissa, who was also my ex-girlfriend and at that time my best friend Derek’s chick, came to me and said she needed to speak to me when I got back. Derek was already away in the army.

‘I may be back late, probably around midnight,’ I told her, but she assured me she would wait up.

The thing was that I still had feelings for Melissa, and in a sense I had been upset that Derek was going out with her. It didn’t seem right. Anyway, sure enough, there she was, waiting for me in the shadow of the stairway that led upstairs to the girls’ department. It was close to midnight and very quiet. I watched Melissa come down the stairs. She had a beauty about her that could make any man irrational. I met her halfway up, took her by the hand and led her to what was then the movie room, which was adjacent to the dining room and next to the pantry. We didn’t switch the lights on. We settled on the couch, and before I could say anything her arms were around me and she began to sob.

Stroking her hair and whispering in her ear, I told her it was okay to cry and encouraged her to just let it all out. Then I placed my hands on either side of her face and gently kissed her on the lips, reawakening feelings I realised I had been suppressing for a long time. From her reaction to my kiss, it was quite apparent that she still fancied me as well. We kissed, we touched and together we met and rode the crest of a wave that seemed never to end. I don’t know how long we lay there afterwards in silence, but we both understood that there was no return from where we had just been. It was a special moment.

Once I was back in the boys’ dorm and tucked into my bed, I felt guilt-ridden for having betrayed Derek, but at the same time I justified it by the fact that Melissa had been my girlfriend to begin with. I was only 16 when we first went steady, but when things began to get serious, I broke up with her. At 16 I was having too much fun, I reckoned, to have a serious relationship and girls were generally a headache. That night, however, I had fallen hopelessly in love all over again. The fact that, from then on, we had to sneak around and keep our romance a secret only added to the thrill and excitement. We became dangerously adventurous to the point of being careless.

Melissa shared a room with two other girls, and I started sneaking into her dorm late at night, where, as quietly as possible, we would make love. On one occasion we fell asleep in each other’s arms and only woke up in the early hours of the morning. There was no way I could exit down the stairs. I had to make my way undetected to the girls’ lounge, out onto the balcony and over the edge, which was a 3m drop. Fortunately, I somehow managed not to hurt myself.

Our relationship intensified over the weeks and Melissa agreed to dump Derek. We would be free to live and dance to the only way we knew, to lose ourselves in our own world. Melissa was forever on my mind and it was difficult for me to concentrate on my studies. Then one weekend Derek came home on his first army pass and we went on a double date. It was fucking awkward. Here I was, with another ex-girlfriend for whom I still had feelings, and Melissa, my current lover, was with her boyfriend, my supposed best friend. We went out for an early dinner and then to a movie. I ended up sitting between the two girls and, while holding the hand of my date, I also secretly held Melissa’s hand. Derek fell asleep during the movie, which made it easier. I’m not sure what was going through my mind at the time, but love sure has a way of twisting our morals. Or perhaps it was that we were young – enough of an excuse to do as we pleased.

I studied hard in the run-up to our final exams. Subjects like History I learnt parrot fashion, preparing as much as I thought would see me through the exam. I began to think there was a good chance I might actually pass matric – and, despite all predictions to the contrary, I did.

It was official: my schooldays were behind me. I was ready to embrace everything the free world could throw at me – the good, the bad and the ugly.

Leaving Arcadia was a bittersweet moment for me, just as it would be, I imagined, for any normal kid leaving his parents’ home. Vicky was forever telling us how tough it was in the real world and that we didn’t appreciate how easy we had it in Arcadia. Delaying adulthood was not an option, however. There was a world out there that awaited a whole new generation of enthusiasts, and I topped the list. Saying goodbye to all the other kids was hard but, like so many other ex-Arcadians who had come and gone but who still visited regularly on weekends and attended the
shul
on festivals, I would be no different. Arcadia was our home. We were all part of something bigger.

I moved in with Joan, but December holidays were already upon us so I didn’t settle there for long. Derek and I hitched a ride to Durban, where we met up with his brother Theo, who was staying there with their mother. Half of Johannesburg was in Durban, and we had the best time ever. What stands out the most for me was our adventurous, carefree spirit and how we embraced our newfound freedom. We came and went and did as we pleased, not having to answer to anybody. There were no set times for meals. We were free to be who we were. We were wild and we were invincible.

Our favourite hangout was the Elangeni Hotel, which was within walking distance of the beachfront. We sometimes slept ten people in a single room. Sometimes we even slept in the hotel toilet.

Durban was renowned for having the best weed in the southern hemisphere and we smoked pretty often. Theo smoked his first joint with us that holiday, and, after my initiation on speech night with Craig and our teachers, my aversion to getting stoned had melted away. I loved the feeling smoking weed gave me. But weed wasn’t a priority for any of us the summer we finished school. We were just out to have fun.

Soldiers We Are Not

Early in December 1977 I had received a letter from the army, telling me that my call-up had been changed: I was to be posted to 4 SAI Middelburg, and the period of training had been extended from 18 months to two years. The Border War had intensified, especially in Angola. Troops were being moved to the operational area and bodies were starting to come back in bags. The conflict was real. Our troops were dying out there, and nobody really knew what we were fighting about. Not that I gave a shit, but it disturbed me that we were fighting a war in another country. I thought fleetingly of becoming a Jehovah’s Witness. Those guys were pacifists and did their two-year stints in detention barracks. The only problem was that they were looked down upon by the other soldiers as being chancers or
jippogat
s.

At 8am on Monday 9 January 1978 I presented myself at Milner Park (Milpark) in Johannesburg with all the other conscripts who had received orders to assemble there. Guys were arriving from all over South Africa. We made up an entire battalion. There were corporals, sergeants, sergeant majors, even lieutenants, all shouting at once.

‘
Jou bliksem se moer!
’

‘
Kom hier!
’

‘
Troeper!
’

‘
Roer jou gat!
’

After having our names taken, we were split up into groups and taken in Bedford army trucks to the Joburg central railway station. Our appointed corporal marched us to the platform. Some of the Afrikaans guys marched like they had been doing it forever. Generally the Afrikaners were very ‘
kop toe
’ (the guys who felt a deep sense of duty towards South Africa). We boarded a train and I ended up sitting opposite two well-built Afrikaans guys who were both over 2m tall. They were also a good couple of years older than me.

It turned out that both these guys had degrees. Instead of joining the army first, they had gone to university, which meant that immediately after basic training they would be given the rank of second lieutenant. We instantly struck up a friendship and the trip to Middelburg passed quickly. As we pulled into the station, I looked out at the open landscape, struck by the bright crimson red colour of the sand. Once we disembarked, orders in Afrikaans came blasting from megaphones. Once again, we were loaded onto Bedford trucks and then transported to the camp. On arrival at our camp site, I was amazed to see rows of identical military tents stretching as far as the eye could see. Besides the mess hall and the toilets, there wasn’t a single building.

We were divided into companies and then taken for a medical examination, after which we were all subjected to the ultimate induction for a soldier: a barber with an electric razor proceeded to shave my head, and I watched my blond curls cascade to the ground. The man basically reshaped my head, leaving nothing but bristles. I wanted to cry. I couldn’t stop rubbing my hands all over my head.

In the army, 4 SAI Middelburg was known for being one of the toughest infantry units (it was almost a concentration camp, in my opinion). After being shorn, we were issued with uniforms, which included a beret, a heavy metal helmet, or
staaldak
, and a
baalsak
. We also received clean linen and two blankets. In my tent there were four iron-framed beds. I had discovered at Milpark that another guy from Arcadia had also been posted to Middelburg and coincidentally he was in the same tent as me. The following morning at breakfast I met up with a handful of other Jewish guys.

It didn’t take long to realise that the South African army didn’t much care about soldiers of the Jewish faith. For a start, there were no kosher meals and, secondly, we were expected to train on Shabbos. None of us Jewish guys in Middelburg were happy with this state of affairs. Knowing very well that they wouldn’t or couldn’t provide us with any, we decided to demand kosher food anyway. With any luck we hoped we might be transferred to Voortrekkerhoogte, outside Pretoria, where apparently there was a kosher kitchen. We also refused to train on Shabbos.

We went to talk to the corporal in charge, who was singularly unimpressed when he heard our requirements. ‘
Gaan na julle tente en vrek!
’ (Go to your tents and die) he ordered. When I got back to our camp site, about 40 guys had congregated around the entrance to my tent. My friend from Arcadia was standing there, his face white as a sheet. He looked really nervous. He told me that, because we had refused to exercise, there were a few individuals making racial remarks.