Fondly, With Cheese

That night atop the sandy mound, beneath the gleaming Milky Way, is one which I will never forget. The six of us (Lizzy, Kathleen, Thandile, Theo, Lubabalo and myself) relied on our body warmth to stay warm on the rather cool night. This mound was the place for secrets to be divulged, for stories to be shared and for some of the strongest bonds to be formed. Like many events, conversations and meetings which I’ve encountered in South Africa, this night evoked opposing feelings and emotions within me, as I simultaneously held back tears, and wanted to grab my new found kindred spirits by the shoulders and angrily shake them in frustration.

Oftentimes we read about things, hear about events, but it truly takes putting a face to the story for emotion to hit. Living in San Francisco and knowing of many, and personally knowing four or five, people who are in some way affected by HIV, the AIDS epidemic in South Africa still seems baffling and deeply saddening for me. I’ve read of truly insane, womanizing lifestyles African men live, how having multiple (and when I say multiple, I mean five, six or ten at a time) sexual partners at one time, of having numerous children with various “wives”, but actually hearing these events from those ACTUALLY living it hit me hard.

Our trip began with not a rocky, but hesitant start. I haven’t driven in 3+ months and have never driven on the left side of the road through the South African coast, which is where I found myself on Wednesday evening. After much stress and awkwardness, we were able to pull the large sedan we were unfortunate enough to have rented (it was nicer than any car I’ve ever driven and about 20 times cheaper than rental cars in the states) into the early morning streets of Obs in the direction of Masiphumulele, the informal settlement Luba and Theo live in. Of course thanks to our outlandish vehicle (the only one large enough and only automatic we could find) we caused a commotion while slowly driving through the crowded streets of Masi. We eventually found Theo and Luba (20 minutes after the discussed time of 8am…typical African time: always late) and headed off for Knysna. Of course, before we were actually able to get onto the N2 (the only real highway in South Africa, which mostly consists of only two lanes) we had to make a stop in Mitchells Plain, another township, to pick up the tent we were borrowing. After acquiring the tent, we hit the road.

The drive was fairly uneventful, though due to “construction” (men digging large holes, with shovels along with the help of one, lonely digger) we were stuck in a standstill for nearly 40 minutes; we had more than enough time to walk down the side of the highway and peer into the murky river below the bridge, and dance to kwaito music near the gawking onlookers also stuck in the jam.

We had to drop Luba off in the informal settlement atop the rocky hills of Knysna and as we began our climb to the top, we learned of his true intentions of visiting Knsyna.

Lubabalo has a girlfriend who he pretty much lives with back in Masi. He told us that he was going to visit a friend in Knysna, which apparently was more like a GIRLfriend. He had met her at funeral (not a strange place of meeting, as due to impoverished lifestyles and AIDS, funerals are sadly quite common) and had even been back to visit her one time before. We pulled up near this girlfriend’s shack as well as the local shebeen, or tavern. Theo, Lizzy, Kathleen, Thandile and myself stepped into the shebeen for a drink, while Luba scurried off to find his girl. Shebeens are well known for a few things. One being their extremely cheap alcohol. I had a large bottle of Hansa beer for about 30 cents. The inexpensiveness along with their location (often central within the township) also makes shebeens instigators for severe alcohol abuse in the community. Luba convinced, or rather forced, his girlfriend to meet us for a drink, though it was obvious by her constant downward glance and shuffled steps that she was incredibly intimidated and nervous. She took his bag back to her shack and he told her he was going into town but would be back shortly. It was shortly there afterwards that we realized we were dropping Luba off in town to meet, but another, girlfriend. He claims he didn’t sleep with both of them, but realistically at some point, he has. So as we left him on the sidewalk, Luba waved and turned to greet another woman.

We awoke the next morning, all five of us huddled together in the middle of the tent due to the night’s nearly frigid temperatures. After exploring the beach for awhile

we drove back into the town of Knysna to look around, and to pick Lubabalo up. We ended up walking around the waterfront area, which was simply full of things, stores and people, which I feel you find at any waterfront type of area (overpriced knick-knacks, ugly t-shirts, foreigners and rich white people). We did eat at Spur, a kind of Red Robin-Billy McHales-Outback Steakhouse chain, which is ostentatiously themed with Native Americans (dubbed Indians throughout the entire restaurant) and dishes dripping in MSG. Here’s a photo of all of us at Spur:

(From L: Thandile, Lizzy, Me, Lubabalo, Theo)

Back on the beach, we grabbed some beers and headed up to the aforementioned sandy hill, where we ended up lingering on until the day passed well into night. It was here that I learned (though I had suspected) that Lubabalo has been HIV+ since 2000 and that Thandile, who I consider a very intelligent and socially aware individual, has had many many sexual partners and has yet to be tested. These men are living the lives I read about when it comes to the AIDS epidemic. Lubabalo knows he is HIV+ and will die of AIDS far before his life expectancy and yet continues on in this crazy lifestyle of sleeping with multiple women; he even had a child (with whom he has no contact with) last year. Thandile preaches how he has changed and how his womanizing days are over, but has not gone to see a doctor or clinic for testing. I have grown close to him over the past two months and hearing that he hadn’t been checked out angered me greatly; he is a friend I want in my life.

(Thandile and I on the sandy hill)

I’m realizing after re-reading this entry, that even with the best documentation skills I can muster, there is no way to account for every absurd feeling, thought or action which this trip set free, so here is a list of other oddities:

• I have never consumed so much white bread and cheese in my entire life as I did in those three days. So much, in fact, that I vowed off cheese for a week.

• We got a flat tire…drove on the spare for awhile, but the car wasn’t handling correctly so we stopped in the town of Mossel Bay to get it changed. Between our sleep deprivation and hunger that morning, the gawking stares from heavy-set Afrikaaners (who apparently dominate Mossel Bay’s population) almost went unnoticed. Almost.

• I hate driving. Half the time there were no signs indicating the speed and when there were, the speeds jumped from 120km down to 60km in less than half a block.

…

Had our weekly Wednesday Dinner, with a menu of homemade French Onion Soup, salad with cherry tomatoes, carrots and warm butternut which was baked with cinnamon, garlic and lots of black pepper, a whole roast chicken (which I had nothing to do with, other than dumping it out of it’s back onto a baking dish…Lizzy and I bought it for $2 at the Olympia Bakery, where I had previously gotten that cupcake and thing called Crunchie) and for dessert, espresso brownies with huge chunks of dark chocolate oozing from their innards.

…

I had a huge, epic, roll of film from the past few weeks, including the Knysna trip, which the photo place ruined, and then lied to me about ruining it. I went back to the same place in town where I had gotten the other one done because of the quick process, only to find that this roll (which was EXACTLY THE SAME as the first) would take THREE days instead of three HOURS, and then on top of that, I went in on Thursday to pick it up, and they told me it wouldn’t be done until Friday. I arrived on Friday to find nothing had been left in my name. The woman helping me went into an office, I followed, as she didn’t really indicate where I should go. It was then that I heard her ask the person on the other end of the line, “Oh, so we messed the film up?…[pause]…OH shit!” She then told me that something had been wrong with the film before the processing began. LIES LIES LIES. I called her on it, making everyone in the office stare at me with open mouths; she wouldn’t even give me a free roll of film for ruining the past few weeks of memories for me. Anyway, I put off writing this entry until when I was to have photos, but alas, I have very few. Use your imagination…