by Raven, R. D.
Stefan (along with everyone else who didn't speak the language) looked confused, until one of the African girls said, "Stefan, we love you baby. Ignore this stupid racist!"
"Yes, we love you Stefan!" said another African girl.
Stefan blushed.
TEN
The next morning, they walked with the local children to their school. Many of the kids walked barefoot, but Jaz was hard-pressed to find one child who wasn't smiling. The little girl who'd clung to her leg the day before was constantly running back and forth to her now, grinning, just like a child at a playground. Jaz wore leather sandals and, after only a few minutes, they were already turning red from the sand. Miguel walked next to her, but occasionally headed off into the distance to throw a stone into nowhere. Mostly, they said nothing much to each other, but Jaz never felt uncomfortable around him. In fact, as they walked she had started to expect him to be by her side more and more often and, when he wasn't there, had found herself looking around for where he might be.
It seemed that long walks in the mornings were going to become a regular thing. They had been told between bleary-eyed yawns that morning that they'd also be getting up early again the next day to go on a nature hike. Maxine groaned, but Jaz—even as tired as she had been—felt the roving seed of wanderlust grow in her as she had been told it.
Was it not these very things that had made her want to spend five months or more in Africa after all?
Sandile took photos, saying he was going to do an article on the trip when he got back. He also asked Jaz if she'd finally give him that interview he had requested—at which she replied that she'd thought that had all been a ruse simply to get her to (ahem) date his friend.
"And how's that going for you?" Sandile asked when Miguel wasn't there.
Jaz clenched her fist and cocked her arm, but Sandile quickly ran away—he'd seen how she'd hit Miguel the day before and wasn't interested in being at the receiving end of it himself.
"Lucky!" she said.
"No, it's not 'Lucky,' it's Sandile."
"Boet," said Miguel, suddenly appearing behind them, "that joke is only funny if someone actually knows that some people are really called 'Lucky' down here." As if it had become custom, Miguel then put his hand briefly on the small of Jaz's back once again, edging her forward.
After the walk, they were met by the bus and taken back to the camp. Then it was onto another lecture which, sadly, went similarly to the day before, although Jaz was not sure who the target of attacks was this time. People simply raised their voices and got angry at each other for a while and then chilled out again toward the end.
Desperate for some air afterward, Jaz walked over to the cheetah enclosure and knelt down to look at them. Before she knew it, Miguel was at her side, cross-legged and playing with some grass.
"Tough crowd, isn't it?" he said to her.
Jaz said nothing at first. "Yeah, I—I wasn't expecting that from ...."
"From what?"
"I don't know. From anyone, really, in South Africa."
"You mean from a black guy? You think the only racists are white?"
"No!" And now she was upset, because that wasn't at all what she'd meant. "I mean—just in general. It was like ... a glimpse into humanity and how we can hate each other and put each other in a category so blindly."
"Yeah," said Miguel, but his voice sounded distant now, pensive. "I know what you mean."
And Jaz knew that he did, but didn't press.
"Look, Jaz," he said, "I ... I ...."
"What already?"
"I'm glad you didn't stick your fingers in the fence. That's the only reason I came over here now—was to check on you." He stood up.
She snickered. "You're a moron."
"C'mon, you don't want to miss the braai."
"The what?"
"Oh, man! You cannot tell me you don't know what a braai is yet." Jaz stared blankly. "It's a barbecue—only better, because it has boerewors."
"Boere-what?"
"Come on."
The "braais" they brought out were no Grill Masters; they were rusty metal barrels, cut in half and standing on metal sticks, loaded with coal each one. "Boerewors" turned out to be this massive sausage that curled round and round and round and round like the outside of a seashell. Literally, it meant "Farmer sausage." Jaz tried not to laugh, and Miguel told her she had a sick mind. They stood around the braais and talked, beers from the bar in their hands. Sandile was endlessly taking photos and even interviewing some of the other students. Jaz got the idea that he was giving her and Miguel their space because, intermittently, he would turn around and look in their direction—as if to see if they had finally kissed, one time rolling his eyes and edging her on when Miguel wasn't looking. What finally gave it away that he was indeed trying to get something to happen between them, was when she saw him standing with Thandie and talking to her.
For him to be standing with Thandie when he didn't even want her to sit on the bus with him could only mean he was absolutely desperate for Jaz and Miguel to get together.
Jaz also noticed that the African kid that had fought with Stefan the day before was now talking to him as if nothing had happened. Sandile even got the guy to put his arm around Stefan's shoulder for a photo.
"Braais and sport," said Miguel, looking at the same scene and smacking his lips.
"Huh?"
"Braais and sport—better than any political ideology in the world."
Jaz laughed, but Miguel stayed serious.
"Look," he said, gesturing to Stefan and his new friend now eating their boerewors sandwiches. "It's true. Haven't you ever seen Invictus? It was rugby that brought this country together. And you should've been here in 2010 for the Soccer World Cup. Wow! The foreign press tried to find bad news. And, sure, there was some. New York also has bad news. So does Lisbon. You can always find bad news if you look hard enough for it. But the good news was so overwhelmingly good, that the bad news was practically swallowed up by it."
Jaz looked back at Stefan and saw ... a soccer ball. She saw a fucking soccer ball and he and the other African guys were playing soccer! She shook her head, almost in disbelief.
"Come on," said Miguel. He gestured for them to walk somewhere else.
They sat at the dusty road, boerewors-style hot dogs in hand with mustard and ketchup (which they called "tomato sauce" down there) running all down Miguel's forearms (he had made two, so had no hand free with which to clean the other).
"Gimme that," said Jaz. And she held the roll while he licked the mustard off his fingers, another rivulet of the stuff escaping and landing on his shorts.
"Ah, fuck it!" he said, and they both laughed. "So, what brings you to our friendly land?" he asked, evincing no particular emotion about his question.
"Well, you know, I've told you. Human Righ—"
"Nah, don't give me that bullshit. What really brought you here?"
Jaz was briefly embarrassed by the question, because she knew as well as anyone that she'd felt a pull to come to the country which had nothing at all to do with what they were discussing in that meeting hall every afternoon.
"There was an article in the newspaper about this girl who'd come here for the program. And there was a picture of an elephant with it. And I thought to myself, an elephant? I don't know. There was something about it. And then I googled a bit about Africa and"—she gestured to the sunset falling behind the hills, reddening the skies—"I just wanted to see it. It was almost as if— It's stupid."
"No, go on."
"I don't know." She moved a strand of hair behind her ear. "It was like …."
"You felt there was more to the land than just the land, right?"
That was exactly it. He'd spotted it. He'd worded what she'd been trying to word for almost a year, just like that. "Yeah," she said, elated, and feeling, finally, understood.
He smiled. "Now that I can believe."
They looked out into the rolling hills in the horizon.
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"And you—I mean, the program, why are you doing it?"
Miguel paused halfway before taking a bite of his boerewors roll, thinking. "Sandile is an incessantly determined individual when it comes to getting me to do things," he said after careful thought.
Jaz sensed that it wasn't really what he'd wanted to say. "You guys have"—she pondered the wording—"an amazing friendship."
Another moment of silence lingered in the air as Miguel looked over into the distance, but it was obvious to her that he was really looking at something else—a picture—in his own mind.
Now would've been the perfect moment, thought Jaz, to talk about what had happened to his family. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him so desperately that she knew and that he could tell her. That she understood.
That she would always understand and that they would never need to speak of it but, like a silent agreement, she would always know, and comprehend.
But she didn't tell him.
"Hey!" It was Maxine's voice in the distance. Goddamnit, could the timing have been any worse? "The boys have challenged us, Jaz! We need you! They say they can beat us—seventeen against eleven."
Jaz didn't turn her head, desperate to hold on to this moment, feeling it slip through her fingers like the ketchup from the boerewors roll. But Miguel did turn.
"Do you play foot—I mean, soccer?" he asked.
Jaz shook her head. She didn't play any sports. Sometimes she jogged (who was she kidding; she never jogged). And, truth be told, she actually just wanted to sit here a bit longer.
But the moment was gone.
"Well, you're about to learn. Seventeen girls against eleven guys. The odds are in your favor." Miguel had that smirky, flirty smile about him again.
"Bring it on!" she said, swallowing her disappointment.
They lost hopelessly. In fact, there was almost outright war when Thandie had said that one of the boys' goals was illegal and then got up in Sandile's face about it. Jaz was sure Sandile was going to lose an eye. And when the other girls joined in (much like they'd joined in to defend Stefan at the class the day before), the boys decided it would be best to let that goal slide, lest their potential grandkids (or lack thereof) would suffer.
Nonetheless, the guys scored thirteen, the girls, two—one even from a penalty shot after they'd convinced the referee (Mr. Patel) that the four-eyed English kid had taken a swing at Candy.
Yeah right.
That night they made a bonfire and roasted marshmallows (finally, something Jaz was good at) and, like all other activities, she found herself naturally gravitating toward Miguel—and he toward her—and they sat together on the logs around the fire. She wondered if Sandile would feel bad about being left alone but every time she looked up, she saw him surrounded by African girls who were, no doubt, trying to impress him. Stefan and Maxine also sat with them. They told ghost stories (something Jaz always hated) and, at one stage, she found herself holding tightly onto Miguel's arm.
He didn't pull away.
But he didn't come any closer, either.
Slowly, kids started heading over to bed. By eleven p.m., Candy and Nita (all but ruining her perfect hair) had fallen asleep on the sandy ground next to the fire. The air had become crisp and Jaz felt her lips tremble. As the weight of sleep pressed down on her, she felt her head fall onto Miguel's chest as he lay with his back to a log now, his legs stretched out to warm his feet by the flames.
Before Jaz knew it, Miguel was saying something to her, and she felt a drop of drool on her lips, and she tasted cotton. "Let's go, Jaz. It's one in the morning."
She had fallen asleep. How much time had she lost?
He helped her up and when she got to her room, everyone else was fast asleep—including Candy and Nita who must've gotten up sometime between eleven and now. She crawled up onto her bed, not sure if she was awake or dreaming, at one stage caressing Miguel's head and telling him (she thought) that she loved him (no, that can't be right).
Was she dreaming?
Her mind drifted, and the smell of thatch surrounded her like a white veil, caressing her skin and easing her mind so that she felt like she was on a cloud of African dust, floating, floating, floating away ... into dreamland.
At five-thirty a.m. someone was shaking her gently to get up. It was Nita. "Jaz, you need to get up. We are leaving in fifteen minutes."
"Huh?"
"Jaz, the hike, remember?"
The hike. Right ... there was a hike ... today? "Oh, shit."
She pushed herself up onto her elbows and saw Nita's delicate face, her hair perfectly arranged as if it had never been out of place. Behind her were Candy, Maxine and Thandie, heading for the door, rucksacks already in hand.
"Damn it," said Jaz, the foul taste of morning breath in her mouth and a foggy haze blurring her vision. "Have you all showered already?'' she croaked.
A chorus of "uh-huhs."
"Consider yourself lucky," said Thandie. "We were actually planning on leaving you but Nita insisted on waking you up."
"You lie!" said Nita quietly, a huge grin on her face. The perkiness and friendly banter of all the girls was just too much for Jaz, her eyes barely staying open and her yawns preventing any sort of intelligible communication on her part. Without saying a word, she jumped off the top bunk (hurting her left heel slightly) and felt her way into the bathroom.
"Oh, and no deodorant!" cried Nita from just outside the door. "It's serious. That's what Johan said."
It was only when Jaz turned on the shower that she remembered what they'd been told about the water when they'd arrived. But at least now she was very awake, wondering if she would ever sleep again after the icy shock to her skin. She soaped herself up in the most important places, not able to finish soon enough. She brushed her teeth and stuck a hairbrush in her knapsack. There was no time to brush her hair now.
She was surprised to see Miguel waiting outside her room for her. He looked like he'd slept eight hours, and was smiling brightly on seeing her.
"I brought you breakfast," he said, holding out a toast with bacon and egg on it.
Breakfast. Right. Another reason to have woken up early.
"Thanks," she said, suddenly wishing she'd taken the time to brush her hair.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
She grumbled.
"You smell great by the way," he added.
She looked at him with her best evil eye, and then surreptitiously stuck her nose under armpit (just in case) while he wasn't looking.
"I was joking," he said.
Damn it! He saw that?
"You know, the whole no deodorant thing? The joke's actually gotten pretty old by now—I mean, with those of us who've been awake for a while."
"You're lucky I have a sandwich in my hand," she said with her mouth full, "otherwise I'd punch you."
"You don't think I didn't notice you have a sandwich in your hand?"
They turned and followed the crowd who was already fifty or so feet ahead of them.
They hiked for like an hour, the sole purpose of which had been to watch the sunrise from the top of a canyon (which they all called a kloof). On the other side of the canyon was a troop of baboons, shouting and barking menacingly. They wouldn't be going to the other side because baboons could be very dangerous animals.
Great.
Apparently, the no-deodorant rule was to prevent them from being tracked by animals—the au natural scent being less "provocative."
No shit.
Later, they learned about the different kinds of trees, met an African tracker, and even smelled some kudu shit (no kidding)—which, incredibly, did not smell bad at all (note on notepad to eat less meat). In the afternoon, they would hold another class, and then they'd have a braai and talk shit and probably end up getting their asses kicked by the boys at soccer again.
There was even mention of meeting a real-life sangoma at one stage.
As the days rolled by, nothing much more seemed to pr
ogress between Jaz and Miguel. He was always there, every morning, either waiting for her outside her room when she overslept (which was often) or holding a seat for her at breakfast (which they had out in the open).
And, just like that, ten days went by. Jaz felt like she'd learned so little of him, and yet was constantly looking for him, as if she could no longer imagine being without him. On the third day, Jaz was sure he'd kiss her, but after that, she noticed that he was gravitating more and more to the crowds so that they were never again alone like on that first night. Had she gotten too close and scared him off?
When Jaz went to bed each night, counting the number of nights before they had to return, listening to the crickets and even the bark of baboons in the distant mountains, she'd started to feel a gnawing loneliness that she could not explain.
She hadn't given him her heart, she reasoned, so why did it feel like he'd taken it?
ELEVEN
sandilesaysitatwits.blogspot.com
Interview with Jaz Curtis at Camp Inkululeko
Posted on: Mon, July 22nd, 2013 at 09:16pm, South African Standard Time
Posted by: sandile
# Comments: 3
By popular demand, the first in our series of (very short) interviews of students doing the IHRE program, will be of Jaz Curtis. This is the transcript of our recorded interview.
Sandile: Jaz, welcome to South Africa. So, what do you think so far?
Jaz: It's ... different. It's been enlightening to say the least.
Sandile: Now, I'm sure what most of our readers would like to know about, is the encounter with the sangoma. Tell us what happened there.
Jaz: Well, I don't really know, I mean, we were sitting around there. The sangoma was drumming and dancing and then she sat down and said a lot of things I didn't understand. Then she looked up like she'd seen a ghost and she called me up to her. She felt my shoulders and said some things. She had this whip thingy and waved it over my shoulders—the left, then the right. She spoke to me as if I was supposed to understand. When I asked Thandie (and you) later, you said she was protecting me from evil spirits because I am supposedly very ... I don't know ….