Dragons & Butterflies

by Shani Krebs

  After school, before shul and dinner, we boys usually got together for a game of football. Some of the girls would congregate at the end of the veranda that ran along the rear of the main building, and that afternoon I couldn’t help noticing Lisa there among the group. She appeared to be looking in our direction, but I couldn’t be sure. I continued to concentrate on the game, and when next I looked up the girls had all disappeared.

  During the week everybody except the matrics was required to attend homework sessions in the dining room between 7 and 8pm. Being a creature of habit, I always sat at the same table where I took my meals, although we could sit anywhere we liked to do our homework. That evening I arrived relatively early. Only a handful of kids were there. I got stuck into my homework and paid no attention to the scuffling noise of children filtering into the dining room at different intervals.

  I was completely engrossed in my studies when, to my surprise, Lisa appeared. She pulled out the chair directly opposite mine and asked if I minded if she joined me. Although secretly delighted, I kept my expression neutral. Be my guest, I gestured casually. Needless to say, I found it difficult to concentrate on my work, and after a few minutes I excused myself. I went to the lavatory, where I washed my face and spent some time looking in the mirror and reciting what I was going to say to her. I knew I needed to broach the subject of what had happened between us the night before. Feeling more composed and confident, I went back to the dining room. Taking my courage in both hands, in a low voice I asked Lisa what last night had been all about and then I admitted I had been staring at her because I found her desirable. Then I promptly added that it wasn’t a big deal.

  Lisa looked amused, but she held my gaze and there was something definitely seductive in the way she looked at me. My heart skipped multiple beats. Then she told me amiably that she was flattered by the attention. If she wasn’t flirting with me, then I didn’t know anything. The tension between us was unmistakable.

  I just smiled back at her and pretended to continue doing my homework, but after that it was almost impossible.

  While I was busy wondering what my next move should be, Lisa began to pack up her things. As she left, she passed me a folded piece of paper. I looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed anything and then, satisfied that nobody had, hurriedly opened the note. It read: ‘Meet me at the fishpond by the shul at 8.30. PS Don’t be late.’ I had to reread the note several times before the reality of what she was proposing registered in my mind. It was almost 8pm. I gathered up my things and, at breakneck speed, raced down to my dormitory, where I took a quick shower.

  As the appointed time approached, I slipped out of the boys’ department and stealthily made my way to the shul. The area around the fishpond was deserted and, except for the stars and the dim light from the rooms, it was very dark. I found the silence unsettling and, just to make matters worse, my old fear of the dark crept out of the shadows. It was already 8.35 and Lisa was nowhere in sight. It was beginning to dawn on me that perhaps I had fallen victim to a cruel prank.

  Then I heard a soft voice calling out my name – ‘Shani!’ – and there she was. We touched hands and I think I tried to mumble something, but then we were in each other’s arms, kissing passionately. After a minute, Lisa suggested we go to the Hebrew classroom.

  Most of us kids at the Arc avoided being in this part of the grounds after dark. It was rumoured that ghosts roamed around here at night, and it wasn’t a comfortable feeling. All the same, how could I resist Lisa? I took her hand and led her down the steps. Inside the building, it was pitch dark and it took some time for my eyes to adjust. I kept imagining that someone was lurking in the shadows and that at any moment we would be pounced on. Sensing my discomfort, Lisa beckoned me closer and began kissing me again, this time unbuttoning my shirt. Her tender touch on my exposed chest was exciting and I completely forgot where I was. I removed her blouse and then her bra and before long we were both naked. We piled our clothes on the floor and I gently laid her down on them.

  Things really got wild and heated after that as we explored each other’s bodies. I was in seventh heaven. Suddenly I heard a shuffling noise only a few metres away from where we were lying. I froze and tightened my grip on Lisa, and in a whisper asked her if she had heard anything. After a long silence, she started to giggle, accusing me of being a scaredy-cat.

  I laughed and we continued to be intimate, but in a disturbed moment my mind flashed back to an incident when I was about five or six years old. I had been on holiday with my mother and Janos in Lourenço Marques (Maputo). The hotel room had a double bed. I remember being very hot, and in the middle of the night I was woken up by strange muffled noises. I was scared. I looked towards the bed where my parents were sleeping. My stepfather was on top of my mother and it looked like they were wrestling. I was sure he was hurting her, beating her as I’d seen him do many times before.

  Frightened, I had cowered under my blanket and prayed that the noises would cease, before eventually falling into a deep slumber. I had blocked the incident from my mind until now.

  Back in the Hebrew classroom, time became timeless, but, as we reached levels of ecstasy that transcended anything I’d ever experienced, without warning Lisa’s head tilted back and her entire body started convulsing uncontrollably. This was accompanied by a short burst of a shrieking groan. I got the fright of my life. I thought she was having an epileptic fit. Panic-stricken, and not at all sure what to do, I stroked her long hair and did my best to soothe her, saying, ‘It’s okay, it’s okay’ over and over again.

  This was a total freak-out, I thought. I mean, what if she died? How on earth was I going to explain myself? After a lot of stroking and reassuring, to my relief Lisa came round and seemed to have no recollection of anything unusual happening.

  When I asked if she was okay, she appeared baffled by my question and insisted she was fine. By now it was late and I suggested we should get going, so we dressed hurriedly and made our way back to the main building. There we kissed again before going our separate ways.

  In retrospect, losing my virginity was an extraordinary experience, even though it might not have carried the hallmark of true love. The spontaneous and exciting manner in which it happened makes it one of my most memorable sexual encounters. Just for the record, and to my embarrassment, later in life I discovered that what I thought were symptoms of epilepsy was just Lisa having an orgasm. As I said, my sex education was sketchy, to say the least.

  Me and my friends at the Arc, all about 16 years old, entered a phase of night excursions. This added an element of danger to our normal adventures. Such outings comprised, among other things, ‘borrowing’ parked cars or anything with wheels, and housebreaking, which isn’t altogether an appropriate description for what we did. It was more like trespassing, the challenge being to get in and out of buildings undetected; we never intended to steal anything. If we were caught, escape was imperative, and this was the ultimate adrenaline rush. It was all part of the game. Getting caught meant also a loss of face in front of the other boys.

  On countless occasions we were chased by security guards, landlords, gardeners, the police and even milkmen, and as a result we became great athletes. At school, we Arcs always took first, second or third place in the cross-country races, which was a source of surprise to our other friends, who never saw us at training and couldn’t fathom why the boys from Arcadia were always such formidable opponents.

  Friday nights were bunking-out nights. By age 16, watching The Brady Bunch had lost its thrill for us. We were looking for something a bit more exciting. One night we unanimously decided to explore the buildings of the Johannesburg General Hospital, which was still under construction, as well as the area nearby, which happened also to be the location of a girls’ boarding school, Roedean. The area itself was charming, with botanical gardens known as The Wilds bordering the school’s property. This enhanced its splendour and tranquillity during the daytime, but at night it looked more like
the setting for a horror movie. I recall at around that time a man’s mutilated body was found in The Wilds, and a few incidents of rape had also taken place there. Crime was on the increase, and even usually quiet Killarney had become notorious as a playground for unsavoury characters. As a result, the police patrolled the area constantly.

  And so, with the increased element of risk, when we went on our Friday night adventures – or night raids, as we called them – as a preventive measure we were now compelled to carry weapons. These took the form of batons, nunchakus and knives, and sometimes even baseball bats. We were resourceful and were renowned for our courage and determination. Our motto was ‘Do or Die.’ Little did I know then the impact and influence our comradeship was already having on my character.

  On this particular Friday night, we were more in number than usual. It had been decided that certain junior boys would be allowed to join in the expedition as part of their initiation into manhood. Bar Mitzvahs were a spiritual thing and were for ‘bagels’; survival in a precarious situation was the real test. Straight after dinner, our usual crew assembled in the driveway. This consisted of myself, Sammy Lasker, Charles Goldman, brothers Eric and Leo Niedermayr and Colin Coats, who wasn’t actually an Arcadian but had proved his loyalty and become a staunch friend. The two junior boys joining us for the first time were David Graff and Steven Landsman, aka Fannie. Taking the junior boys with us was irresponsible, but nothing new for the harum-scarum boys we were. Our logic was that, sooner or later, they would be bunking out on their own anyway. None of us really considered the consequences of our actions.

  Armed with our weapons, some of us even wearing balaclavas, we stealthily made our way out of the grounds, via the hill, passing on the side of the Goldsmith residence. The hospital construction site provided a maze of adventure. Our relentless quest for excitement was insatiable, and the fact that we were fearless made us unpredictable. In addition, our defiance of authority was growing. It was a trait inherent in most Arcs.

  Chained to one of the streetlights inside the hospital premises was a three-wheeled bicycle cart, the type with a large bin on the front, often used by milkmen to do their deliveries. Some of the boys tried to pull the chain apart, but without success.

  ‘Let me have a go,’ said Colin.

  He grabbed the chain with both hands and pulled with all his strength, and to our amazement the lock popped open. Triumphantly, he mounted the saddle and gestured to us to jump into the bin. We all piled in and raced off down the hill, screaming our heads off. Because of the excessive weight and the speed we were travelling at, Colin lost control and crashed into the sidewalk, while we all went flying in different directions – what a gas! We laughed our heads off and bolted from the scene.

  We then made our way to Roedean School, where, on previous outings, some of us had actually met a few of the girls, who seemed to quite fancy us. Already familiar with the terrain around the property, getting in and out was only a matter of manoeuvring from one side to the other. The only obstacle that presented any actual difficulty was the 2m-high steel fence topped with barbed wire, but this we climbed with relative ease. We entered the grounds, which were dimly lit, and made our way to the front of the building. I was feeling uncomfortable; there was something eerie about the place. The silence was unnatural. Unbeknown to us, lurking behind us in the shadows someone was watching our movements. We congregated in front of the main building and then, at the top of our voices and in concert, we began reciting the song ‘Three German Officers Crossed the Line, Parlez-Vous’, and so on. Lights started coming on in different sections of the building, and then we heard a dog barking. It wasn’t a very convincing bark, so we paid it no attention. It sounded like a poodle maybe.

  But then, rising above the barking, came a coarse masculine voice that sounded awfully close.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?!’ I could have sworn it was a German accent. As one, we turned and streaked off across the grass. The next thing we heard was a gunshot. Colin was a little to my right, but we were pretty close to each other and I heard him swear under his breath.

  ‘Ouch, my leg – I’ve been hit!’ He doubled over, obviously in pain.

  Then there was another shot.

  ‘Nonsense,’ I said, trying to reassure him. ‘That was a cap gun or a firecracker. Come on!’

  We had all run in different directions, but we had agreed beforehand that, if anything happened and we were separated, we would meet in The Wilds by the fishponds. I had taken the lead, and so far Colin was keeping up with me but again he pleaded that he had been hit. Fannie was further back and just off Colin’s right side.

  As I ran, I couldn’t help wondering to myself what kind of lunatic would shoot at a bunch of kids. Minutes later we were all at our appointed rendezvous; everyone was accounted for, something of a victory all things considered, although one of us was not entirely unscathed, it had to be said. I explained to the others that Colin had been shot and we proceeded to inspect his leg. True to his word, we could see with our own eyes that some damage had been done. A mixture of shock and surprise came over us as we crowded round to examine the wound. There was a hole in the rear of his jeans covered in blood, just below his right buttock. We guessed that the bullet had exited on the other side, travelling straight through his thigh. Colin pulled his jeans to his knees, and we all stared silently. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. Red and white flesh was hanging out of the wound.

  By now Colin was definitely in pain and we knew we needed to get back to the Arc before we could make an intelligent decision about what to do next. We also assumed that whoever had shot at us would have called the police by now. We quickly made our way through the back of The Wilds, which was quite a climb, and ran along the outskirts of Killarney and around the Oppenheimers’ property.

  It wasn’t very late, around 10pm, when we got back to the Arc. We sent the junior boys back to their dormitories while we smuggled Colin into the toilets under the stairway that led to the senior girls’ section. I rushed up the stairs to call Joan, who just happened to be coming out of her room. I’m sure I was quite a sight, covered in blackjacks, panic-stricken and sweating like a pig. She asked what the hell we had done this time. I blurted out the story. Her expression was a mixture of anger and confusion. Then, without saying anything further, I grabbed her arm and pulled her back down the stairs with me.

  Down in the toilets, Sammy explained in a controlled tone what had transpired. I’d always known Joan to be squeamish, but, to my surprise, she took charge of the situation. She started assigning duties: Sammy and I were instructed to keep a lookout for Vicky; Eric and Sandra Newstead were told to fetch towels, a bowl of hot water and some bandages; and Colin was ordered to remove his pants so that Joan could perform some basic first aid on him.

  Despite our vigilance, we didn’t hear Vicky coming. He appeared to have been making his way to the area that adjoined the toilet. As soon as we were aware of this I thought we were surely busted. Not only would he have a clear view of Colin’s naked bum, but Joan’s profile was in full view, too, through the slightly ajar toilet door. And then suddenly Vicky was right there, stamping his feet and demanding to know what was going on. He tried to push his way into the toilet, and instinctively I grabbed the handle and pulled it closed. Sammy and I told Vicky that Colin didn’t have his pants on so he shouldn’t come in. Vicky was startled. He had obviously seen Joan in there. He looked at us suspiciously, quite sure that something was wrong but not able to figure out what it was.

  ‘Well, then finish whatever it is that you’re doing and get back to the dormitory,’ he said, and turned and left, while we sighed with relief.

  By this stage Colin was in great pain, and Joan strongly suggested that we get him to a hospital. So we phoned a close friend of Colin’s, Steven Penn, whose father was a pharmacist and lived in Greenside. Within 15 minutes they’d arrived and whisked Colin off to hospital. Fortunately he recovered without any complications, and even though we ma
y literally have crossed the line that night, at least no one had got arrested. The incident didn’t deter us from future escapades, however, and Colin remained a staunch friend.

  In 1977, my matric year, I was the so-called head boy of Arcadia. Being a keen sportsman, I never smoked cigarettes, nor did I have the slightest inclination to experiment with marijuana. By now I was a strong and confident youngster. I didn’t care what any of my peers thought of me. The kids at King David, the high school I attended, who were often seen as spoilt Jewish brats, were, in my eyes, my equals. I never begrudged them what they had, but nor did I allow the deprivations in my own life to affect my self-esteem. It didn’t bother me that my dad didn’t drive a Mercedes or a Jaguar. I didn’t even have a dad. I was who I was, and nothing was going to change that. My life in Arcadia had, for the most part, turned out to be great.

  The only forms of transport we Arcs had at our disposal were the Arcadia van and bus, and then only as passengers. A custom handed down to us by our predecessors, however, was to take the Arc van for a joyride in the late evening. David Lasker was an accomplished driver from an early age, and a mentor to those who followed in the years to come.

  It was forbidden to leave the premises on Friday evening, as it was the Sabbath, but this never stopped us bunking out. Late one Friday evening, with a chill autumn wind gusting around the buildings, I lay restlessly on my bed. I decided that a night out and about in the Arc van was just what I needed to spice up what had been a mundane week. I encouraged a younger boy, Mark Wasserman, to join me.

  Around midnight, after everyone had gone to sleep, Mark and I hijacked the Arc van and off we went, gallivanting aimlessly through the deserted suburbs. In retrospect, I can only wonder what possessed me to be so irresponsible: there I was, an unlicensed driver, putting both our lives in danger. While the thrill might elude us, the fact remains that my defiance of authority was a driving force in all my pleasure-seeking endeavours. Around 1am, somewhere in Bramley, we got stuck in a dead end, and what made matters worse was that we were at the bottom of a steep hill. And so began the arduous task of getting the van back up the hill. There was nothing for it but to push. Eventually, after what felt like hours, we managed to get it out. Finally we got back on a straight and level road, exhausted and sweating like animals.