Just over the weekend, Friday 14 2009, my friends – Tshwaro, Goitseone and Kgabo – whom I’ve not seen in weeks paid me a visit.
As human being – with the curiosity to see what other travellers see that we not-travellers do no see – I decided to go and have fun with my friends in town, Rustenburg, and let them show me places and spots they hang out at. I did not mind because we had transport handy throughout.
We travelled, or at least visited places I have never seen before or thought I would visit given the type of a person I am. Plus, we sometimes need to loosen up.
And I guess that weekend, I did loosen up a bit.
The society, I have come to learn, has a misconception about people who go out and party, or any other group of people for that matter. This misconception is created by a saying that “birds of the same feathers flock together”.
“Birds of the same feathers flock(ing) together” misconception does apply to different people under different circumstances, and it certainly doesn’t apply to me in this instance!
- Just because the majority of African National Congress (ANC) members are criminals or have behaved/acted criminally before, that doesn’t make Nelson Mandela a criminal, or does it?
- Just because you have gay friends, that doesn’t make you gay, or does it?
Stop 1: Castle Tavern
The purpose of travelling – at least for me, I must say – was not to get drunk, but was just to have fun with my friends and see which spot they hang out in case I look for them in the future. All three friends bought a couple of drinks for themselves on the way to Castle Tavern, and when we go there too.
With their generosity and respect for my decision – never to drink alcohol again – which they’ve come to respect and accept, they instead bought me a 1.25L of Coca-Cola on our way to Castle Traven.
I had not finished Coke when we arrive at Castle Tavern; and bought a can of Coke 330ml again.
The music was hectic and very good, I must say, that I even had to let go of my shyness and jive a little that Goitseone said to me the following day: “I did know that you could jive”.
To my surprise, I said to my friends: “Now I know why when you get home you hardly stay because you are used to this fun in Rustenburg, and when you get home and do not find such – you are bound to go out of the village into another – just to fun you are used to and left in Rustenburg”.
And they laughed.
Castle tavern was, however, not as full as some tavern would be, but was fun.
Around past 11 pm I had drank Coke so much it tasked bad that I asked my friends if they had pour their stuff (beer) in my Coke by any chance, which they dismissed as rubbish.
And then we changed places.
On our way to a new place, I asked my friends: “where is ‘Huistek’?”
Huistek is a place or a street where prostitutes trade. I asked not because I wanted something, but just wanted to know as I have heard of it and them a lot since moving to Rustenburg, September last year.
While in Mafikeng, Huistek was known as “Mandela Drive”, a route from Botswana, which enters Mafikeng’s small town.
Stop 2: Castle Corner
On our way here, I had not seen any “prostitute” but my friends promised that we’d go via their “trading spots” on our way back home just so I could see for myself how some people are driven from their home by:
- Circumstance beyond their control or
- Just for the fun of it (sex) that Tshwaro referred to as “Nawa”.
Not once in my life until that Friday did I see or ever imagine myself in “White” Bar & Pub.
The racist “White” term is used and justified in this article to explain the unknown and never-been-to, and known and been-to-before scenario only.
Castle Corner is a place meant or often used by white people, it appeared to be!
It was only few of us blackies there: 4 of us, two other guys we found having drinks and further, one lady who it appeared by her running around with a black garbage plastic bag, was a cleaner or helper.
It was understandably okay to witness this “few blackies and baie whities” picture, because they have a right to their own organization which does not restrict blackies – as it did not restrict my friends and I – from joining them and is constitutionally correct.
Because drunken people – like my friend Goitseone – can be “stout”, I tried to warn him time and again but would refuse saying: “ke a boifa” (I’m scared).
Yes I was scared because: Goitseone would call a lady from anther table not in a manly way, but rude way, yet expecting the lady to come to him.
I told Goitseone: “if that lady goes and calls up on her boyfriends or guys saying you want to beat her or said something funny thing to her, those guys would definitely come running and would want to beat the hell out of 4 of us, and would not want an explanation whatsoever”.
They, I continued, would try and justify their beating us or worse, killing us for having “invaded their white gathering” place and harassed their women or sisters (even if it would have been you alone).
Three of us tried to stop Goitseone from behaving the way he was that we then decided to leave Castle Corner because his behaviour would/could have left us dead or beaten by some guys we hardly know.
From Castle Corner, as they promised on our way there, we went via Huistek Street and seem what some women are up to on parts of South Africa in trying to help their families – despite its inhuman and immoral side of it, but well understandable, I think.
“How much?” we’d ask poor people trying to earn a living as prostitutes, while driving. And we thought this to be fun but to them it’s eternally painful.
As we travelled down the street – mind you all three: Goitseone, Tshwaro and Kgabo were drunk and Goitseone was also driving and was the leading stout guy among us especially towards the prostitutes – as we saw more and more of them that we even ran into gays.
When asked them (3 or 3 gays hanging by the corner of Huistek) while driving “how much?” (How much it would cost any person to get under her/his pants), one of them said something terribly fowl that it would not be fair nor will it be okay to “write it as said” here, instead we laughed away. Before heading home, we stopped at our last stop.
Stop 3: The last stop
Here I am on a Saturday morning in a bar/tavern – I’ve never been to before – at the time I’m most likely to be in my fourth, if not fifth dream, with my friends who, it seems, have been around this neighbourhood before and know very well.
Just when we were about to enter, one lady who was dancing like a “prostitute” women trying to lure or attract me – tried that trick on us and did not work him me, but I’m sure about the rest of the guys, I must say.
Two other “prostitute” ladies who, it appeared by their make up and clothing, were sure that they’d at least scored something (us) as they saw us enter the bar building one’s not even sure about its name as compared to the previous two we’ve already been to.
My friends and I, however, passed them like we did not care – just as a person of a different skin colour would pass another at a bus/taxi stop on a raining day refusing to give him/her a lift – taken as stranger(s). All three friends – Goitseone, Tshwaro and Kgabo – bought themselves a couple of beers and me a drink as we sat down.
One of them three (prostitutes) danced like a wild animal and kept eying at us and later came to join us, asked for a smoke from my friends.
Interestingly, she told my friends it would only cost R50.00 (referring to how much it would cost a guy to lay her down) which my friends dismissed and refused the offer – and left her not disappointed at all as if she had more fish in the see to catch using her hook (wild dance).
It was around past 1 am or approaching 2 in the morning of Saturday when we decided to head home straight to bed. When we arrived at my place, they were so hungry that they had all the left overs for Saturday inside the pot on top of the stove while on.
After watching my friends as they fought and helped themselves with yesterday’s left-over inside the pot on top of a hot stove – like lions that haven’t had meet in ages – we dozed off to bed and off into the Dreamland.