Jaz & Miguel (3 page)

That day could not have been the end, just like that ... in that way
... for the two of them.

He shook his head and got up. He needed to leave.

Before going, he climbed up the stairs to his father's bedroom and
peaked in the door. He saw the bulge that was his rounded father underneath the
bedding and heard the gentle nasal sound of his peaceful snore. For a moment, as
he stood there watching him, he wondered if his father would ever find someone
else, but then thought no more of it, not really knowing how he felt about
that—feeling more like, if it did happen, that it would simply be another one
of those inevitabilities of life that he'd simply learn to live with.

Things weren't good or bad or shit or crap or great or wonderful or
happy or joyful or
lucky
or unlucky. Things just
were. Life just happened. It was his job to take it as it came, learn to live
with it.

He went to his bedroom and pulled out some money from the brown
envelope he still kept under his socks in his drawer. He'd started doing that
after Sandile wasn't able to pay one of his drug-debts (another time, another
life) and had come over to Miguel's house, banging at the door, desperate for
cash. Loaning it to Sandile hadn't been a problem. We all make mistakes, and
Miguel hadn't been Mr. Innocent in the area of smoking it up either, even if he
had never taken any of the hard stuff like Sandile had. But driving to the ATM
to withdraw two grand at one a.m. had caused Miguel to break more than a slight
sweat.

And, even though those habits and days were as far off for both of
them as the equator itself, Miguel figured that it would always be a good idea
to keep some extra dough lying around the house—just in case.

Die Arend
(Afrikaans for "The Eagle"—another
mystery in Miguel's mind, an eagle being the symbol of Americanism and not "Afrikanerism,"
if that was even a word) was a relaxed pub about fifteen
Ks
from where Sandile and Miguel lived. Sandile lived in Bedford
Gardens (not quite at Millionaire's Row—that was in a place called Bedford
view
),
and Miguel lived in Germiston, an area equally thick in Afrikaans as well as
Portuguese people—although most
porras
in the
area spoke Afrikaans as well. ("Porra" was a word acceptable amongst
some of the Portuguese for themselves, although not appreciated when used by
outsiders—an endless source of confusion for Miguel as to why people would
refer to their own cultures and races using the very words which denigrated
them). Miguel, however, even though fluent in both Afrikaans and Portuguese,
rarely spoke in either—English being his preferred form of communication.

The pub was sparsely "decorated" with nothing but a pool
table in the middle, a clock with lights around its dial (that looked like it came
from Vegas or like it had been made from one of those Nevada Motel signs he'd always
seen in the movies) on the farthest of the plain-brick walls, a speaker in one
corner so some guy could plug in his electric guitar if he wanted to, two or
three drinking booths, and a nondescript counter just as you got in (which
currently had three very sorry looking souls bent over it). It was frequented
by your local bums, drunks and men who hadn't shaved in about seven years.

Sandile got a real kick out of going there.

Miguel did not appreciate it.

They went there for the pool, both being average players, although
Sandile had gotten slightly worse since he'd gotten glasses (an endless source
of jests from Miguel since then). There were other places to play pool, but
Sandile liked to "show his black face" in places like this one.  It
was for this very reason that Miguel did not particularly enjoy being at
Die
Arend
very much.
It was true that some South
Africans had not moved on with the times—the locals of
Die Arend
most certainly included. Sandile believed (semi-mischievously) that
if he simply appeared over and over and over again at a place, they would soon
start considering him part of the furniture or something.

In a way, he'd been right, the racist comments had indeed eased off
the more they'd gone there. Part of the reason was that many of the men in there
knew Miguel's father and respected him, so they let Sandile ("Senhor Pinto's
son's
kaffir
friend") be for the most part. The comments bothered
Miguel more than they did Sandile. It was like the guy was running some fucking
social experiment or something.

Racist fucks.

"So,
boetie
,
keen on IHRE?" asked Sandile after firing off a break shot which pocketed
the solid yellow, solid blue and green striped balls. A gentle smile of
accomplishment broke on his face.

By now Miguel's attention was solidly on the table although he'd
heard Sandile's question. "You gonna choose a group?" Miguel asked,
referring to the table (they played by old-school rules—and then only
slightly—never naming a ball to be pocketed, always calling aloud a group if at
least one ball of that group had been pocketed at the break).

"I choose solids. But you ignored my question."

Miguel leaned over the table and aimed for the orange-stripes into
the corner pocket. "I didn't ignore it," he said, one eye closed. He
fired, hard, and missed. "I was taking a shot."

Sandile waited. "And?"

Miguel chalked his cue. "Actually ... yes, I am excited."
He felt an involuntary smile pull up at the sides of his lips. He'd not wanted
to give anything away. He was mourning after all. Who was Sandile to take that
away from him?

But Sandile noticed, and he smiled with him, leaning down over the
table and firing the purple-solid into the right corner pocket in one quick stroke.
"I told you you would be," he said confidently, eying the table for
his next shot.

And Miguel
had
been excited; that he had indeed. Sandile had
told him about the IHRE program—the
International Human Rights Exchange
program—in
July of 2012 (and they'd joked endlessly about how
ayree
the IHRE
program was going to be—positive they hadn't been the first, nor the last, to
ever make that joke). After they'd finished school, Sandile had gone over to
Wits University to major in English Literature (yawn) but Miguel had no desire
to study anything, opting, instead, to work with his dad at their import-export
business (which he'd started at, part-time, even before finishing school). He'd
needed to get busy, to do something other than read or think, and it also gave
him an excuse to go over to Mozambique and Durban every now and then to check
on shipping first-hand.

He loved Mozambique, much as he loved Durban. He'd never been much
of a surfer but, even in winter, he never failed to take a dip in the warm
Indian Ocean every time he went to either place. It was as if the ocean had
this inexorable power to wash away all his worries every time he swam in it.

After much persuasion, Sandile had finally twisted his arm.
It's
not a degree. It's one semester,
he'd said.
You need to move on,
broe
!
he'd urged. It was
Sandile's opinion that doing something for humanity would help Miguel "let
go" of things.
I'll do it with you.
It was
that last comment of Sandile's that had finally elicited Miguel's agreement.
Sandile smiled, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as they'd sat in Miguel's
freezing-cold car up at Linksfield Ridge (a place with about the most beautiful
view of Johannesburg as can be seen, not to mention housing which comes second
only to Millionaire's Row itself).

—
You'll do it with me? Why?

— Because you need to move on. Helping others is a way to do it.

Miguel had asked little more. He would do it. Besides, what else was
he going to do with his life?

"Your shot." Sandile's comment brought Miguel's mind back
to the table.

"I hope there will be some decent looking chicks there, boet,"
said Miguel. "Otherwise I'm getting my fucking money back. You know that's
the only reason I'm doing this, don't you?"

"Ja, ja. Whatever."

The program was only a few months away, and already Miguel had
started to feel that faint sense of hope in him. But this hope he hadn't
shunned like every other hope in the last two years that had come his way.
He was looking forward to this
ayree
program (overdone joke, he knew). He was really looking forward to it, like
something great would come of it; something great for him.

Something that would help him let go.

Miguel felt the weight of earlier in the evening ease off his chest.
He always chilled out when he was with Sandile. It was that mutual
understanding they had, that thing which they shared that neither ever
mentioned but which both understood to be fully in the room with them whenever
they were together.

Sandile was his brother.

He would do anything for him.

jazinsa.blogspot.com

I'm here!

Posted on:
Thu, July 4th, 2013 at 04:27am, South African Standard
Time

Posted by:
Jaz

# Comments:
4

I made it! (I'm totally wasted—but I made it! Oh, and by "wasted"
I mean "tired," mom, not drunk!) The flight was murderous, although
the eleven hour layover in London had a few benefits. Even after a red-eye
flight, Candy, Maxine and I (I'll tell you about them later) caught a taxi to the
city and then managed to get on one of those big red buses and drive around and
see the sights! It was raining like mad and we got soaking wet (oh, so I have a
bit of a cold now as well).

So, there were seven of us in total. Candy is a short (yeah, even
shorter than me!) blonde from Columbia U, but she used to live in Seattle!
Maxine is a mahogany-haired bombshell, also from Columbia U, but she used to
live in Portland. Weird how people travel. Then there are four other girls, one
from Cali, two from NYC and one other from somewhere I don't really remember.
We paid her to watch our bags while we went exploring. We didn't have much time
especially seeing as we had to catch a taxi from the airport to London (wow,
that was expensive. Luckily one of the girls thought to carry pounds as well as
South African currency) but we finally got there.

No
guys
from the US (I have to keep reminding myself that I'm
writing this for my folks as well as my best friend. Hmmmm, maybe I should've
set up two separate blogs).

OK, never mind, I'm just gonna say what I wanna say. So, yeah, no
guys—
bummer!

London was beautiful. We saw Big Ben (that's like a big clock thing,
Rae) and a bridge (I forgot the name) that opened up in the middle and was
painted blue a bit (I know, I'm rushing through these descriptions because I
want to get to the good stuff!) I'll try post some photos but the internet
connection is
sooooooo
slow here (it is Africa,
I guess) that I decided to chill out on the bandwidth in case it took me
another three days to send this thing!

So, where was I? Ah, right, London—long story short, real weird
driving on the wrong side of the road (same as in South Africa), rains a lot
and ... well, they have these really,
really
cute little black taxis that look like something out of a Mary Poppins movie
(that's an English nanny, Rae).

South Africa

So, Wits—short for Witwatersrand, but don't ask me to pronounce it
because it sounds German or Dutch the way they say it here.

It is HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE! Candy wasn't too impressed. She said the
entrance looked a bit like the one at Columbia U with all the columns.

So, they have five campuses. We're staying at the International
House (awesome place, huge lawn in front, they're basically apartments!) which
is on the East Campus and right next to it is a place called The Matrix which
is basically like a student mall (with mostly places to eat from what I could
see). Overall, this place is ginormous! Maxine (bombshell, mahogany-hair, remember?)
was gaping at the entrance for about as long as I was, even though she also
goes to Columbia. I guess she maybe expected things to be—I don't know—smaller
in Africa or something.

It took a few days to get the internet sorted (between actually
getting it working and then finding the time of day when it isn't so totally
congested) so, sorry about the delay, but now I've worked it out.

I have my own room (it's like a little studio apartment) with plenty
of closet space (so, mom, I could've definitely brought more than just that
blue velvet dress for going out!) and my own kitchenette and bathroom. I was
totally impressed. It needs a little bit of a woman's touch to spruce it up,
but in general it's pretty sweet. I can see that Candy and Maxine and I are
gonna have a
lot
of fun here (saying no more).

What else? Oh, yeah, it's like four a.m. right now. That nine hour
time-zone difference is really getting to me. I'm completely exhausted, and
can't sleep a wink.

Now, as to South Africa itself, well, it wasn't exactly what I was
expecting. I mean, Johannesburg just looks like another city to be honest
(maybe a bit dirtier). But apparently we're gonna get to see some of the "real"
Africa after the weekend when we go on that camp so everyone gets to know each
other. I think that'll be good because, even though I've seen some of the other
girls (and guys) we haven't really connected yet.

At the camp we'll also get to meet the local students who are doing
the program. The local guys can either do it as a unit in itself (kind of like
I'm doing it—it was a bit weird not being a part of a college like all the
other girls) or they can do it as part of whatever they're majoring in, meaning
that their major will take a little longer.

So, like I said, I haven't met anyone who's done that, but I would
really respect someone who'd chosen to lengthen their studies just so that they
could learn about human rights.

As to the other students, I know there's a Scandinavian girl here
(Finland, maybe?) and there's also a German guy (I think his name is Stefan).

I'll tell you more about them after we "get to know each other"
at this camp. The camp is in a place called "Rustenburg"—about 200 kilometers
from here (I think that's like 80 miles or something. Nobody knows. No one
talks in miles down here) and there are apparently lots of baboons (yikes!)
there and obstacle courses and stuff. We'll be doing classes in between
everything. From what I've heard, it's a bit like a survival camp.

Safety

So, I know you were all worried about me before I left because of all
that bad news about those riots in Alexandra (that's nowhere near where we are,
by the way) and that racially motivated killing three months ago. Although,
looking around, I really have no idea why the US issued that travel warning.
Everything looks ... normal. Not at all like we were made to believe in the
newspapers (I hate to say, "I told you so!"—OK, I don't hate it: I
told you so!)

On the other hand, we
were
given some
general safety pamphlets (nothing major—and nothing to do with the supposed "rioting").
They're basically about not walking around after dark and staying in groups and
stuff. But, at the end of the day, I would do that same stuff in Seattle so it's
nothing unusual.

Language

OK, so
this
is weird. Now, South Africa has eleven
official
languages, but get a hold of this: their English has like this completely
spaced out accent with the weirdest slang you've ever heard!

My ... God!

Check it out:

A
china
is a person or friend (no
relation to Asians apparently). 

A
broe
(pronounced
brew
) is not a beer, but also a
friend. (Actually, it means
brother
literally).

Same for a
boet
(pronounced like
foot
).

Everybody says "Ja" (pronounced
yah
) which is like our "yeah."

Then their accent is totally British (or Australian?), although they
look at you funny if you tell them that. Except for the Africans (I guess white
people born here are also "African," technically, but you know what I
mean): they have a unique accent all of their own which I can't really name. It
sounds, well, "African" for lack of a better word.

But the whites also vary in their accents—some speaking more like
Afrikaans (ahh, don't get confused,
Afrikaans
—pronounced
Afrikahns—
is
what some of the whites speak; derived from Dutch, and is not the same as
African
which is not a language, but a "person from
Africa." If you're confused, imagine how I feel). Then other whites speak,
well, like the British (which they can't stand being told).

Shew!

OK, I'm out. Whoever said the US was a melting pot has never seen
the RS of A ("Republic of South Africa").

It's just ... beautiful—all the people, all the cultures.

So, I'll be offline for a while after Sunday because that's when we
leave for this camp. Tomorrow we'll be visiting Nelson Mandela's house in
Soweto and the Apartheid Museum.

I'll do my best to keep you posted although my main interest for now
is in finding out where everything is (and for that, I guess, I'll have to find
some local friends!)
3 Comments:
Comment from:
Mom
Posted on:
Thu, July 4th, 2013 at 03:22pm, South African Standard Time
That's SO great, honey! And happy July 4th! It
sounds like a wonderful experience.
How bad is your cold? I packed some vitamins in your bag. Is there a pharmacy around
there?
When can we call you?
Reply from:
Jaz
Posted on:
Thu, July 4th, 2013 at 09:35pm, South African Standard Time
> Mom!!! I'm fine! :) It was just a little runny
nose. I haven't slept in practically three days
> (thirty-one hour flight from NY, remember? Not to mention that first
flight from Seattle. At least
> I had a day's break there).
Reply from:
Mom
Posted on:
Thu, July 4th, 2013 at 09:41pm, South African Standard Time
>> OK, honey. Have fun on your camping trip!
>> We love you!
Comment from:
Dad
Posted on:
Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 04:56am, South African Standard Time
Great to hear all your news sweetie. Keep us
posted.
Love, dad.

raeinseatlle.blogspot.com

Matt

Posted on:
Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 05:27pm, Pacific Time

Posted by:
raeinseattle

# Comments:
7

Is this guy a fucking babe or what?!

[IMG_5632.jpg]

Matt and me kissing

[IMG_5633.jpg]

And some tongue

[IMG_5634.jpg]

Oh yeah!

[DSC_7135.jpg]

Brenda—this is the
biatch
he dumped
for me. What a fucking skank!

L8a!

7 Comments:
Comment from:
Randy
Posted on:
Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 05:43pm, Pacific Time
Awesome!
Comment from:
Jen@work
Posted on:
Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 06:55pm, Pacific Time
W00t! Have you done it yet?
Comment from:
Matt
Posted on:
Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 07:32pm, Pacific Time
Nice fotos baby. But you missed 2 or 3—my
favorites.
Reply from:
raeinseattle
Posted on:
Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 07:39pm, Pacific Time
> Baby, I can't post THOSE!
Reply from:
Matt
Posted on:
Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 07:45pm, Pacific Time
>> Of course you can.
Reply from:
JohnQuarterback
Posted on:
Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 07:53pm, Pacific Time
Post them! Post them! Post Them!