by Young
Andy exclaimed excitedly, “I love it! Such chivalry.”
“Can men dance with men and women with women?” I inquired.
Curt burst into hilarity before he commended, “Is that not what your Master is doing?
“I was about to say before you and Andy interrupted. A woman is free to decline a dance, but dance partners do change throughout the night. Every segment of society become one in the dance hall; be they young, old or middle-aged. I’ve never felt anything sensually invigorated than in a milango.”
The athlete stopped his dance.
He commented spritely, “Milangos are special places. I describe it as an organized event where people go to tango. Now, a Milango is not to be confused with a Milonga – which is a type of tango music and a distinctive style of dance performed solely to that music. Milangos are filled with merrymakers, dancers, and spectators. They’re there for a good time; to watch and be watched.”
“Sounds fun!” Ileen, the female E.R.O.S. recruit cried.
“I can’t wait to tango,” she declared.
“There are definite hierarchies in a milango, and everyone has a role to play. Maestros travel and teach around the world while tangureros are stage performers. Then there are the DJs, live orchestras and tango singers who keep the dance floor moving. Last but not least, the event organizers provide the spaces for the dance patrons,” our Master explained.
“Oh! I forgot to mention the tango ‘sharks’ who prey on tourists and newcomers and the old milongueros who use to rule the floor, but now they are there because milangos are their second home,” he added.
“Who are the tango ‘sharks’?” I questioned.
Tad and Curt burst out in laughter. Both men responded almost simultaneously, “They are men who behave creepily and inappropriately when they dance with the opposite sex.”
“What about men who dance with the same sex? Are they also called tango ‘sharks?’” I asked.
My tutor quipped, “They’re called tango ‘whales.’”
“Why?” I queried.
Our group burst out in guffaws at my naiveté.
My Valet responded amusingly, “Your silly boy. Your teacher is pulling your leg. Men who prey on handsome male dancers are often fat and obese, like whales.”
“Are these predators always fat and obese?” I countered. “What if the tango ‘whales’ are handsomely virile? What do you call them?”
More laughter ensued before our patriarch pronounced, “Let’s go while the night is young.”
At Confitería Ideal, Buenos Aires, Argentina
At the stroke of midnight, the night was indeed young at Confitería Ideal. This two-story building had been in operation since 1912. Founded by Don Manuel Rosendo Fernández, a merchant from Galicia; he decorated this distinctively European looking milango with original French bohemian armchairs, marble staircases and a bar of Slavonic oak boiserie specially carved by Slavic craftsmen. The floors, ceilings, and windows were highlighted with decorative Fleur-de-Lis design. Fourteen imposing pillars, two grand pianos, and old mirrors gave this establishment a luxurious ambiance that any well-dressed patron would be proud.
Famous personalities, the likes of Jorge Luis Borges, Adolfo Bioy Casares, Luis Sandrini, Juan Domingo Perón, Evita and Joan Manuel Serrat have passed through this hall with fanfare. So did Maurice Chevallier, Maria Felix, Robert Duvall, and Yoko Ono who tangoed deep into the wee hours of the morning.
I felt like I had traveled back in time to a Belle Époque era when tango ruled Buenos Aires. Men in formal garb and women in figure-hugging gowns strutted and swaggered while patrons at side tables studied their techniques. The scene resembled a 1940s romantic movie that had wrapped me around its fingers to lured me onto the dance floor. I couldn’t help but marvel at the ostentatious crowd even though I’ve been warned not to look too closely at anyone unless I knew what I was doing.
My eyes caught sight of a suave tuxedoed man who was by the bar with a drink, and a cigar in hand to entice a potential dance partner onto the floor. I fell under his spell.
Before I had a chance to gather myself, he had swept me onto the pristine dance floor.
I gasped and whispered, “Sir, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Follow me, and you’ll be fine,” he said seductively.
Off we tangoed from one end of the room to the other. Adrenaline surged into my head as if I had drunk glasses of champagne. I was intoxicated and beguiled by this eroticism as he whirled and twirled me like a ragdoll. Not only had his decorous movements glided me along with ease, but his debonair refinement also inveigled me to lean against him for support. I had no idea where I procured my competence, but I knew he was no ordinary dancer but a hoofer.
When the music concluded, I leaned against him to catch my breath before I inquired, “Are you a maestro?”
He grinned and replied mischievously, “Do you want me to be?”
Before I could respond, Andy was by my side.
“Hi, I am Andy, and you are…?” My chaperone introduced.
“Everyone here calls me Franco.”
He extended his hand to shake my guardian’s before he announced, “Nice to meet you, Andy. And…?” He looked at me for a respond.
My Valet announced authoritatively before I could answer. “I am Young’s chaperone. I’m here to ensure he doesn’t step out of line.”
Andy shielded me from the stranger since the man had whisked me away, unannounced. I detected a hint of jealousy in my guardian’s voice.
“Young is a good dancer. I would like him to study with me,” the Argentinian expressed.
Before I could answer, my guardian replied, “We’re in Buenos Aires for the Campeonato Argentino Abierto de Polo. Young wouldn’t be here long enough to study with you.”
I interposed, “I will love to learn to tango. Will you teach me?”
“I’ll be happy to give you some lessons during your stay,” Franco declared cheerfully.
Andy gave me a lugubrious glance before he granted me permission. I kissed my lover to thank him for his amenability. I smiled at the dance instructor. He gave me a knowing wink.
While we were talking, I noticed a beautiful woman dancing with Tad while Kalf looked on with dejection. I went to the Moroccan. Without a thought, I pulled the boy onto the dance floor and began to tango with him. Neither the lad nor I had any idea what we were doing, but he was glad I came to his rescue, even though he was stunned by my action. Like a pair of waddling ducklings, we whisked around clumsily. Not only had our ebullience cheered up the crowd, but it also enlivened some revelers to take to the floor. We had fun, whirling and twirling even though the Moroccan was apprehensive about our moves. He soon dropped his guard and went with the flow.
That evening was one of those rare occasions where I witnessed the reticent Kalf coursed through an invidious situation without a care in the world. The night air had enveloped us with hypnotic romances and seduced our heady selves to tango until dawn before reality erupted with violent storms where we least expect.
End of October 2014
My Message to David and Andy (Part One)
Hi fellas,
Me-Oh-My, I didn’t anticipate such an outpour of support and concern from the both of you. I’m flattered! LOL!
Andy, I am grateful for your love and friendship. You can assure that I’ll do the same for you if you require my assistance. You can count on me. ??
I also want to thank you, David, for your superb effort to physically reunite Andy and me; even though we’d already reconnected cognitively. I’m sure when the opportunity arises, the universe will bring us together. That includes you, whom I have yet to meet in person. As always, the streams of life will guide me to go with the flow. ??
Back to some serious discussion. I do have stories to share about my encounters with mythical beasts. Here is one…
Pride and Prejudices (Chapter Forty-Three)
“Pride and prejudices are the children of reli
gious ignorance and bigotry.”
Tad Abdul Hafiz
Third Week of September 1968
Mada’in Saleh مدائن صالح (Cities of Saleh), Saudi Arabia
My Master was indeed a different man in Saudi Arabia. His regimented schedules amazed my Valet and me to the nth degree. Unlike his party boy behaviors when abroad; now, he embodied the paragon of proper comportment. He and Eberhardt would do laps at his Olympic size pool at 5 AM daily. From seven to nine AM, they worked out at the gymnasium. Breakfast was served to him at precisely nine-thirty AM before he headed to his sports practices, rehearsals, and other athletic activities until 5 in the evening. His personal time was between six to eight PM before his dinner with his family or business-related associates. He retired at 11 PM before he resumed the same procedures the following day.
Henry and I were the only E.R.O.S. recruits stationed at Wolf Den. Our tutorials with Professor Eberhardt commenced at nine-thirty every morning without fail, except on Holy Friday which was our day off and when the athlete attended mosque with his family. This was also the day of our field-trips to historical places in the Saudi Kingdom. During our excursion to the ancient Mada’in Saleh مدائن صالح (Cities of Saleh), also known as Al-Hijr or Hegra; I had a chance to ask Professor Eberhardt about my Master’s demeanor transformation.
Curt had organized our visit to Hegra through his archaeologist friend, Dr. Benjamin Liberman. He was a part of the Al-Hijr’s excavation team. This ancient rock-cut architectural Nabatean kingdom, second only to Petra in the north is relatively unknown to the larger world. Back in 1968, the prohibition by the Saudi government on the veneration of objects and artifacts hindered archaeological activities to minimal. This “Stoneland” and its nearby vicinity were primarily inhabited by Bedouin tribes. We were fortunate to visit this comparatively untouched locale before it was declared a national treasure in the early seventies.
Our teacher’s ingenuity to visit these essential vestiges was a feat before survey permits were finally granted. A private helicopter ferried the six of us from Aldhdhib Dann to Al-Ula village, where Al-Hijr was located. There, we met Dr. Liberman who acted as our guide.
As our entourage listened to the archaeologist’s analysis of the sites’ historical developments; I found a private opportunity to ask my professor.
“Why didn’t our Master come to Hegra with us?” I enquired.
Eberhardt responded casually, “He has plenty to do before we leave for Rio.”
“Rio!” I exclaimed. “You mean Rio de Janeiro, Brazil?”
“Yes, boy, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil,” he answered lightheartedly.
I added, “Why are we going to Rio?”
“He’s been invited to be a judge at the Miss Brazil beauty pageant,” my teacher replied.
“How did he get to be a judge at a beauty pageant?” I questioned.
The German said amusingly, “Young, your Master is an international sportsman. He receives many invitations to national and international events. Being a judge at a beauty extravaganza is one of his obligations.”
I inquired, “He’s not the Master I know when he’s abroad. He behaves differently in Riyadh. Why is that?”
Eberhardt sallied, “Is that so?”
He paused before he continued, “Your Master has a lot on his mind. Besides, he must be physically and mentally ready for his upcoming tournaments. I’m here to ensure he’s in shipshape for these challenges.”
“Like dealing with the Aldhdhib Dann’s womenfolk?” I quipped.
“Shush! Not so loud, you scalawag. I’ll wallop you if you divulge anything improper to strangers about the Aldhdhib Dann household,” he cautioned.
“Then tell me what’s up with him?” I pressed.
He pulled me out of earshot before he chastised, “You, boy, better watch your tongue and not air any Aldhdhib Dann’s dirty linens. You get me!”
“I heard squabbles outside the library last night. What happened?” I evinced curiously.
My teacher whispered guardedly, “You must promise me to keep this to yourself.”
I nodded and crossed my heart to indicate my sincerity.
Women rights
My Valet was at our side just as my tutor was about to commence.
“What’s going on? I heard your teacher shushing you,” Andy inquired.
Curt declared, “I reprimanded this chap not to be nosey.”
“What’s he prying at now?” my chaperone questioned.
“About Tad and the Aldhdhib Dann’s womenfolk,” I announced.
My statement caught the professor off-guard. Left with little choice, he revealed his cognizance to us.
He began, “Miss Yasmin acted up again last night. She and several of her female cousins had joined a women’s rights activist group. They protested against having a male ‘wali’ accompany them everywhere.”
“What is a ‘wali’?” I asked.
My teacher explicated, “A ‘wali’ is an official guardian. Typically, he is the father, brother, uncle or husband. Although guardianship is not enshrined in Saudi laws; government officials, courts, businesses, and individuals usually act on it. That means women require their ‘wali’s’ consent for significant activities; like traveling, obtaining a passport, getting married or divorced and the signing of legal contracts.”
Curt added, “Miss Yasmin’s father and eldest brother, Ali had spoken strongly against her participation in such a controversial group. They tried to stop her from attending the meetings, but the young lady refused to budge. They locked her in her boudoir and refused to release her unless she changes her stance. She went hysterical and tried to kick down the door.”
I gasped, “What happened after that?”
“Tad stepped in to soothe the uproar, and Najiyah stayed to console her indignant daughter,” my tutor stated lamentably.
Just then, Dr. Liberman yelled from a nearby vicinity for us to tack along. The archeologist was delighted to have an engrossed party in Jean-Pierre Saad, Henry, and his Valet, Louis. They hung on Benjamin’s every word as we meandered through rock corridors, wells, tombs, and burial sites; while Eberhardt, Andy and I continued our conversation out of earshot.
Curt commented, “You already know, Young; members of the opposite sex cannot mingle freely. Though, there are a few exceptions, like in hospitals, banks, and medical colleges.”
“Can women attend universities and colleges?” Andy enquired.
The professor denoted, “They are allowed entrée to all women higher learning institutions, but co-education is a no-no.”
I chimed, “I know they wear a black abaya when they leave the house. Are they allowed to dine with men in restaurants?”
“Most eateries have allocated sections for ‘families.’ These areas are separated by dividers from all-male parties. Females are required to enter and exit restaurants through separate entrances from the men,” my teacher disclosed.
“Do women get a fair hearing in court and do they receive an equal inheritance?” My Valet questioned.
“That’s the million riyals (Saudi Arabia currency) question. As the saying goes: the testimony of a man equals that of two women. The fact is, a woman’s legal position in this country is like that of a minor. It is sad that she has little control over her own life.
“In regard to your question of inheritance; under Sharia inheritance laws, daughters receive half the amount awarded to their brothers. Sometimes, they are omitted from their father’s will altogether and impelled into poverty,” Eberhardt informed.
“No wonder Miss Yasmin and her activists’ petition for their rights,” I cried.
“The good thing is, King Faisal bin Abdulaziz Al Saud is determined to modernize the country. I hope Saudi women will soon be granted the rights they deserve,” my teacher responded sanguinely.
We fell in line with our entourage without any eyebrows being raised.
End of October 2014
My Message to David and Andy
(Part Two)
…In the early months of 1970 I mentored a Daltonbury Hall Grecian-Italian Freshman from Rome named Helius. We were out riding and came upon a forest pond when he related legends and myths from his country.
“Why did your parents name you Helius?” I asked.
“When I was a child, my Grecian father told me the tale of Hēlios, Helius in Latin. My name means Sun, East, Day and Sunshine.”
He paused before he added, “My dad told me that Hēlios was a handsome Sun god, and his crown was the sun’s shining aureole. Led by Pegasus and four flying horses, Hēlios rode his gleaming chariot across the sky, every morning to circle Oceanus (god of the Seas) before returning to the East at nightfall.
“Father named me Helius because I’m the very image of Hēlios,” the lad proclaimed.
Just then, from the corner of my eyes, I caught a flash of white among the trees. I thought little of the mirage and remain focus on Helius.
But when I stared into the boy’s eyes, I saw a radiant winged horse reflected in his pupils. I followed Helius’ gaze but saw nothing except greeneries. I returned my attention to my charge.
“Did you see a white winged horse?” I questioned.
“What white winged horse?” he fibbed.
“I’m pretty sure I saw a winged horse reflected in your eyes a few moments ago,” I attested.
The lad looked flustered but remained silent.
I pressed, “Tell me what you saw.”
He denied his phantasm and said he saw nothing but trees. I did not believe him.
“You are lying. Tell me the truth. I’m your BB, and you can confide in me. I’m not here to judge but to provide guidance and mentorship. We must trust one another if we are to bond,” I counseled.
“Like Andy and you?” he quipped.
“What do you mean, about Andy and me?” I responded gushingly.
The boy declared, “The love between the two of you is legendary.”