Moffie (34 page)

‘You have done wrong,' Oscar eventually says in a steady voice, still not looking away from the drunken, trembling man in front of him. It is as if God himself has spoken on Judgment Day and there is no reprieve for Dorman.

‘I want you to know this, Dorman; I want you to realise that you have done terrible things this year. What you have done will never go away!'

I hear Dorman swear on the name of God, I hear him refer to Oscar's rank, which is now higher than his, and I hear him make promises, but none of it has any truth or carries any weight. Then Oscar and I turn around, get back into the truck and drive off.

 

After the older man has run his hand over the boy's chest, stroked the smooth, young skin of his torso and seen the hard shape grow in his Speedo, he slowly eases it out. The young penis is so hard that it looks like skin over bone. It is clear that the boy is blistering with lust. When the man touches his scrotum, there is a jolt of pleasure in the younger body.

They are lying at a pool on beds designed for tanning. It is a hot night. Both of them have drops of water on their skins, in which the silver-blue light is now trapped. The water in the pool is still moving from when the two bodies were in it; from the chasing, touching and finding. The only light that is on, is in­side the water, and it is now herding sharp sparks of silver light against the deserted pool house.

As the older man moves closer, the boy rolls over on his back, opens his legs and spreads them. They are exquisitely defined and youthful, almost tender under the stroke of the older man's hand moving over taut, elongated muscles.

Soon the boy ejaculates. He is still on his back, resting his head on the arm of the man lying on his side next to him. His penis stays hard. In this light, his pubic hair is black against his white skin, and a line of fine hair runs up to his navel.

When the alcohol has worn off and they had sex one more time, the older man starts telling the boy why he shouldn't tell anybody about what has happened. The boy doesn't tell him, but there is a good reason why he won't tell anybody: he is in love and wants to spend the rest of his life here, with this man, whom he would never ever want to hurt or jeopardise. In fact, he will do anything for this man.

But soon the one who has lived longer, who should be the more mature, begins to realise his hold and starts abusing this love. He has had so many men fall in love with him that he reads the signs easily. And after a conquest, he gets bored and looks for other stimulation. But the young man with the long, black hair is so infatuated that he will do anything, which is when things start going wrong.

By the time the weekend is over and they are driving back to the city, he has shared the boy with a friend while he watched. Without consent, he also filmed the boy being fucked. But it is his obsession to hurt the boy that scars this beautiful man-child for the rest of his short life. He doesn't understand why his un­cle would want to burn him with a cigarette while he is entering him, but it helps that he is either high or drunk when it hap­pens.

When he turns to go to the first-class lounge at JF Kennedy Airport, after checking in his bags to South Africa, his uncle re­minds him of the Super 8 film he has taken and will keep as an insurance policy. He also reminds him to keep his back and but­tocks covered until the scabs have healed.

 

 

It took me twenty years to pluck up the courage to look at my diaries and start reconstructing the events of that year. In all this time, Ethan's visit was the one thing that stood out—everything else remained buried until I started the process of writing this story.

Life simply seemed to carry on, even when it felt as if the plan­et should stop and take a breath to reassess what had happened. Everything just goes on with the momentum that life gives it. I guess a story never really ends. It certainly doesn't remain in the ‘ever after,' but it does stay with us ‘forever after' in that it has changed us, made us grow, or scarred us.

My second year in the army turned out to be surprisingly com­fortable. I was based at Danie Theron Combat School with Mal­colm, and after receiving rank I worked in the media centre as a graphic artist. I was close enough to Pretoria for weekly visits to and from Ethan, and the year passed on the wings of first love.

After the army I enrolled at art school and Ethan at UCT. We rented a small bachelor flat and shared a year of uncomplicated bliss. But in that year, while we had everything our hearts could desire, we were introduced to something more dangerous than prejudice—the darkness of substance abuse. That, however, is a story for a next time.

My friendship with Malcolm has stood the test of time and distance—a distance that has since grown to the western shores of Canada.

There are nights when I wake up from dreaming about the army—about conversations, acquaintances and emotions that emerge from somewhere deep in my unconscious. They awake in me a sense of longing that lingers for that whole day and leaves me slightly confused. How it is possible to have hated a time so much and then to discover that somewhere inside, one is yearning for certain aspects of it?

My only explanation is that when one has an experience that is so traumatic, it knits itself into your very fibre while you are raw and ripped open. Then, when there is a really good moment, it can be so incredibly fine that it surpasses all other, because of the acute contrast.

 

 

 

 

Balsak
Large canvas bag used to carry kit (literally: ball bag)

Bivvie
Temporary shelter

Blerrie
Bloody

Bliksem
Used as a noun: scoundrel; used as a verb: to beat up (literally: lightning)

Blouvitrioel
Copper sulphate; mixed into beverages to reduce libido

Bok
Antelope; goat

Boer
Afrikaner (literally: farmer)

Boerseun
Young Afrikaner male (literally: farm boy)

Boerewors
Traditional South African sausage

Braai
Barbecue

Broer
Brother

Buffel
Buffalo; also name of anti-landmine vehicle

DB
Detention Barracks

Deurtrekker
Plastic coated cable to clean barrel of rifle

Dof
Stupid

Dominee
Pastor

Donner
To fight; hit

Doos
Derogatory word for female genitalia

Flossie
Hercules freight plane

Fok
Fuck

Fokof
Fuck off

Gatgabba
Derogatory term for homosexual

Geweer
Rifle

Gharries
Army Land Rover

Grootsak
Army rucksack for carrying kit on route marches

Hippo
Anti-landmine vehicle

Hotnot
Derogatory term for person of colour

JLs
Junior leaders

Kak
Shit

Kerk parade
Church parade

Kief
Nice

Kleurling
Person of colour

Koevoet
Name of police division on border (Literally: crow-bar)

Krygskool
Combat School

Kuka shop
General dealer for local population on the border

Malletjie
Crazy person (Literally: little mad one)

Min dae/min tyd
Literally: few days/little time (referring to time left before being discharged from army duty)

Moer
To hit or hurt

Moffie
Gay; homosexual

Naai
Fuck

Nafi
Lazy (Acronym for: No Ambition, Fuck-all Interest)

Oom
Uncle; also term of respect for an older man

Opfok
To give a hard time

Ouens
Guys

PB (Plaaslike 
Bevolking)
Local population

Pikstel
Knife, fork and spoon set

Pislelie
Plastic funnel used as urinal (Literally: piss lily)

Pishoring
Erection (Literally: piss horn)

Poes
Derogatory word for female genitalia

Shona
Water pan in border area (only appears during rainy season)

Skietbalkie
Badge received for exceptional marksmanship

Slapgat
Lazy

Soutpiel
Derogatory name for English South African (Literally: salty penis)

Staaldak
Steel helmet (Literally: steel roof)

Stasie
Station

Terr
Slang for terrorist

Trassie
Derogatory term for a homosexual

Troep
Troop; infantry soldier

Trommel
Large metal trunk

Uitklaar
Clear out (term used for leaving the army)

Volksie
Volkswagen Beetle

 

André Carl van der Merwe was born in Harrismith in the Free State. When his family moved to Cape Town, he started his schooling in Welgemoed and later attended high school in Stellenbosch. After two years of national service, he started studying fine art in Cape Town. During his third year he established a clothing company, which he owned for the next fifteen years. Today he concentrates on architectural and interior design and writing.