Last week Sunday I arrived in Joburg Park Station to no fanfare. Minutes later, after calling a comrade named V who was also in Jozi but at a separate hotel and for a different reason my taxi arrived and whisked me off to High Street in Berea where after being shown my room I struggle to secure a cup of tea due to my throbbing headache which usually comes with prolonged periods of no-caffeine intoxication. I move out to the corner café to get myself a can of Coke which I gulp in a rush. I get back to my hotel, watch soccer on television and don’t like it when Sundowns wins.
Earlier on my way in I met two leftist activists George Dor and someone I don’t know who both asked me about V, since they figured I might be leftist due to my Mau-Mau T-shirt.
At around 17h00 I meet one of the guys (we’ll call him S) who is here for the same reason, an investigative journalism course I’m doing with Wits Journalism. I look around for that chick I told you about in the last entry to begin my Part II but she ain’t here. All I see is a bunch of Rastafarians who look at me with suspision. The lady I wanted to shag is not here. Fine. At this point I’m approaching 100 days of celibacy and I feel relieved that there’s no one to mess up my record with.
Later on the night I go to have dinner and there I meet S and we dish out and sit down and he sees a brownish chick with dreadlocks and invites her to join us on our table and she comes and he starts chatting her about relieving her stress with massage (let’s call her J). It’s okay, that’s his style as I observe that the chick likes his predictable approach. If I was a chick I wouldn’t fall for that.
Soon, after leftist activist Dennis Brutus has sat at the same table and dished himself vegetables and a cup of tea only, another woman (we’ll call her Z), light complexioned ,pretty beautiful with blonde hair who seems lost comes through and dishes and we invite her to our table and she sits at the table. I pull her a chair and I provide cutlery and seasonings for her and we start making friends. I’m a little probing, what do you do for a living? Where do you work? Why are you here? Tell me your friends and I’ll tell you who you are? Well, that’s me, it doesn’t work all the time you know.
J tells S that she is a scriptwriter for Generations, she also works at a radio station, she also does interior decorating, she also does make-up, she also has seven cellphones and a million other things. Well fine, she also happens to have a boyfriend in Hillbrow which she wants to visit with S. She also says she’s not black but coloured even though she’s darker than me. S wants a screw and he plays ball. Well, me I want something from Z but it definitely is not a screw, something deeper, something profound, something with far-reaching consequences than a spasm. I am chasing 100 runs remember?
My talk with Z suddenly reveals that she is here for a two weeks long ABC Ulwazi radio course. Okay, suddenly we change topics and talk about sensitive stuff which would give me an excuse to touch her without raising red flags. I’m good at this, please be careful with your woman when I’m around.
Two hours of consuming five litres of water later J and S come back from Hillbrow, time is around 22h32. They move upstairs and say they will be back to join us. “Let’s go continue our conversation in either mine or your room”, I suggest. I touch her hand gently as I lift her to the second floor.
Arriving on the second floor Z opts that we go to her room instead of mine. Fine. In her room it’s all good and she hasn’t unpacked her bags yet. We talk a lot about her stay in
The following morning it’s work and work and work as the chick I fancied screwing pitches from somewhere in Jozi. She’s not sleeping in the hotel this time, which is good.
In the afternoon one of the guys we are attending with (I’ll call her T) decides we should get sloshed at his expense tonight . We go to Hillbrow, me, him, S and a Zimbabwean journalist we’ll call D. We get there and we buy Three Ships Whisky and a case of beer for a night of binging.
Back at the hotel we have our dinner with a bunch of chicks from
Earlier on before binging we tried to have the
On Tuesday the one I would have loved to screw rocks up from her Joburg hideout and it’s work and work again at Wits.
Late in the evening after dinner I decide that me and the folks shall get sloshed again and it’s my treat. We go to Yeoville’s
We chill in S’s room and drink. This night he is not really with us but keeps going out with J who came in just as we were relaxing to watch Cheaters and demanded to see him in her room. S comes back when me and T are now going for our second last pint and T asks him if he did it and he says no ways and he enquires and S says that the robot is red. T wants to know if he investigated and he says, ‘yeah’
Wednesday is a little hectic because now we have to go to Lindela Repatriation Camp and visit refugees about to be sent to their homelands. The trip never materialises and we end up being traumatised at the Crown Mines Refugee Reception Centre where we see security people ill-treating people simply because they come from troubled parts of the globe.
After our Wits session I leave for Randburg with Your Honour to hook up with my ex who lives somewhere along the area. I don’t get to see her as my call keeps being terminated. It’s fine as my number two goal is to visit Your Honour’s crib. We got to his crib and munched biltong which he also hooked me with. He drove me back to
T is gone, so is D. I’m left with S who is in a mood of his own as he now realises that he’s not going to screw anyone, let alone J who obviously has six more days to flag.
Later I walk past Z who is sitting with a bunch of folks who are also attending the radio course with her. After she left I go to them and sit down only to introduce myself and get their contacts for a project I am doing on a newspaper in
After getting their details I move to my room and sit where S finds me and we chill, no beer, no thing and we talk about women and stuff until 23h00 which, after he left I pack my bag readying myself for my long journey home the following day.
Morning comes and I go for my breakfast, hook up with Z, who looks sad to see me go since she’ll be here for one more week. I can see the folks who didn’t like me are happy to see me carrying my bags out of the hotel. Z gives me a hug as I move to my shuttle. Me and S are driven to the Park Station and four hours later I’m in Nelspruit having a drink at Paddy’s Tavern with my
Two hours later I’m home, having a cup of coffee before my gym session. So, nothing happened in Jozi really.
PS. WHAT NEVER MADE IT INTO THE STORY.
Za, my beautiful friend and business partner who’ll be designing my clothes from now on came through on Tuesday and I introduced her to the folks and S fumbled that he loved her and we went to my room to plot her rise to the top of the fashion industry as she left S with her cellphone from which he was listening to Za’s music. It’s nice being with Za, she’s warm, smart, sophisticated and shrewd. We never sparked a joint like we do most of the time, which was good given that she says she’s busy with exams. We just sat and talked before she left.
On Tuesday D was not there as he went out to drink with his expatriate community in Hillbrow. Pictures on his digital camera the day later showed that he was having a ball, the full three evils.
The ex I went to see in Randburg the night before called me in the morning while I was at the station and apologised for the complication. I still love her you know. By the way I’ll be back in Jozi next weekend on the 14th and I hope for better days. 100 days is a record don’t you think?