I’m not sure I would ever have travelled to South
Africa if there hadn’t been a good reason. I remember boycotting South Africa
oranges as a child and even though things have moved on a bit since then a wisp
of outrage still hung about in my head.
But my three sons all wanted to go to a desert festival called Africa
Burn (mockingly referred to as Africa Wank by their father).
The Burn is hard to describe, but it is a
festival remote from any settlements where anything goes and people give things
to each other. My boys and their
friend Julian were to be part of an outfit running Camp Deliciosa – offering
free pancakes to all and sundry.
Another camp ran a human car wash where you could be bathed by loving
hands – very liberating according to Julian. Artworks of all sorts are created and burnt at the end of
the camp. Fortunately this did not
apply to my daughter in law to be, Fredi, whose project was to wander naked
with paints through the festival inviting anyone who wished to, to paint her.
Eddy’s
wife Jun, however was forbidden to go to the Burn by her Japanese employer even
if she fancied the idea so our idea was that she and I and little grandchild
Caiden were to bask in the fleshpots of Capetown while the boys and friends all
did their idealistic and creative thing under the desert sun. I hoped they’d all come back alive and
not changed for the worse and I was excited to see little Caiden, now two and a
half and speaking a bit in both English and Japanese. I hadn’t seen him since
he was a newborn baby.
There were little anxieties. Would I pass muster as a grandma? Would Jun and I get on or would I become the stuff of a
mother in law joke. I intended to
do my very best to fit in and be nice.
The beginning of the trip was not auspicious. Grant had a terrible cold. This is what I wrote in my diary
“He took
me to the airport sneezing and swearing and braking abruptly when he sneezed
saying cunt to the people who honked at him for doing it. We managed to park at the international
terminal only to find the first leg of my journey was on Virgin and in fact went from
the Domestic terminal. By the time I registered at Virgin’s international desk I was
so longing for Grant to go home and look after himself that I instantly
lost the three boarding passes I
had been given. Boarding passes
have always seemed to me only secondary to passports in sacredness and I went
up to an official in a panic. Just
as he was soothing me and saying things like “not a problem” I was taken aback,
along with those around me by the apparent clattering of gunfire. It quickly
became apparent that it was just my necklace breaking and the beads banging on
the tiled floor. Feeling foolish
beyond belief I scrabbled them up and a kind banking man gave me one of his
plastic envelopes to put them in.
New boarding passes obtained I got on to the plane and
began to think all might yet be well when a uniformed woman approached me in my
aisle seat. “Are you Julia
McCall?” she said. “It’s all up” I
thought. “They’ve found all the
little vials of vaping mix that Eddy
asked for and swore were totally innocuous.” But she was smiling nicely. “It’s just that we think an electric
toothbrush is vibrating in your suitcase and would you mind giving us your lock
number so we can open the case and turn it off.” Indeed Grant had thrust upon
me a state of the art rechargeable electric toothbrush just as I was leaving. I gave permission but it was
disconcerting. Somehow I always
feel my luggage has evaporated once it has gone through the rubber
curtain. No more questions or
weight issues. Out of sight and out of mind. Not so this time.
The Virgin flight to Perth was cheerful but a bit trying
– squashy because I was next to a very overweight gentleman and dinner was a
slop of some kind of curry in a cardboard box. But the little bottles of red wine helped.
At Perth I was picked for special treatment at
security and had to go into a scary experimental cylinder with my arms up as though in
surrender. When they looked at the Xray it took there were mysterious yellow patches on it so I was patted down too. All the while two young men had their
eyes fixed on me. Then one said
“You have been selected to come with me. Are you prepared to do so?” I was merrily hysterical by this time
and said “By all means” He passed a sort of phallic wand over
my hand luggage and said “OK”. “Just one moment” said the other man. “Which one
do you like best?” He showed me two wands both long and black. In retrospect I can only think he was
making some lewd joke but he seemed serious enough. “That one” I said “Because
of the nice carving” and I went on my innocent way, pure in mind, body and
luggage.
The travel gods seemed to have run out of pranks to
play on me by then and I arrived in Capetown and was met by Eddy who’d got a
beard and I thought it might all be going to be fun after all.
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