Moving to an apartment in Central was disruptive as I was happy at school and my little milk tart business was doing fine. My mother found a well-paying tenant for our house and the apartment was affordable.
I needed to change schools from standard eight at Pearson High school, a dual medium school where I did some of my subjects in English. Little did I know what a profound change this would have on me in every aspect. A scenic beachfront drive took you to the school which was also close to King’s Beach Lifesaving where I was a member. On beautiful days it was sheer torture to sit in classes like math while all you could think about was having a swim, paddle skiing or surfing.
Most of the boys were water sport enthusiasts and rushed to the beach on idyllic days. Central was close to the school but my mother had to drop me off for a few months until I got my new red Suzuki GT 50 for my 16th birthday. It was only a few months to go so I needed a job within walking distance from home. One advantage Central offered was that there were many shops and restaurants that welcomed cheap schoolboy labour. I decided to walk from shop to shop as I could not bring my unlicensed Honda C110 into such a densely populated area. Being 15 at the time I could not get a license yet anyway, so my employer had to be close to where we lived. Luck smiled upon me as there was a shop named Film Fun very close to our flat. I was stunned into silence when I met Mervyn Ackerman the flamboyant, camp, red haired owner. He dropped his voice an octave lower and said in a husky voice that he had no work, but if I was prepared to work for menial wages a few afternoons every week, he would think about it. I was a bit hesitant to accept the offer, as if it was this easy to get a job maybe I should search for something more rewarding, or a restaurant where I could earn tips. Mervyn was clearly psychic as he read my mind and said that the menial work required no effort and simply consisted of me rewinding 35mm movies that customers were too lazy to do. He asked me my age again and then told me I’m underage and offering me work would be illegal. I quickly reassured him that legality did not bother me. Profit did.
This amused Mervyn, who just captured me in his Venus fly trap… Being less adept than he in Machiavellian strategies, I begged for this mundane underpaid job to his obvious delight. He had me in checkmate or a full nelson if you find that analogy more enticing! Any moron could already tell he was just a shrewd negotiator wanting to save a few Shekels, so why not I? Even at fifteen I recognised a skilled negotiator when I met one. I soon learned a lot in this completely unknown territory. So, we had a deal. He wanted me to start immediately if possible and did not mind that I was wearing my white school shirt and grey trousers. He showed me my little dark hole where I would sit in a cramped space packed with movies that needed rewinding. At that moment I met Mervyn’s first customer who was even more flamboyant than Mervyn wearing tight white trousers on the verge of splitting. “And who is this Beulah little number, he asked in a lisp voice, that reminded me of Kaa, the python in Jungle Book, who sang his hypnotic song with a lisp, “Trust in me”.
Mervyn already displayed possessiveness and replied, “Oh, just some nora little straight boy, that needs a job and lives close to the shop.” Mervyn lisped back and then added. “Don’t even think of trying to cradle snatch the jailbait”.
The drooling customer looked at me and said, “It looks old enough to me, but what makes you think he is straight?” Mervyn replied, “Darling, trust me. It is very nora and very straight.”
At this stage I thought I better say something, like can I start with the rewinding? “Oh, Kaa lisped, it speaks,” with a seductive smile and fluttering eyelashes! I was getting impatient and said, “Yes, it speaks simple words, fetches and carries!” “Oy vey, and it has teeth!” Kaa saw an opportunity and suddenly complained about back trouble. “Darling, don’t you want to be a doll and carry my movie?”
Mervyn rolled his eyes and said, “Just hurry” and to Kaa “Don’t be a schnorrer; give him a tip. Your back looked fine the other night when you were making eyes at the rents at the club while showing off your pole dancing skills around the staircase.” Trust me… Kaa had met his match. Mervyn’s Shere Khan side was not to be trifled with.
Being that flamboyant in the ‘70s and ‘80s took guts. They seemed best friends though so maybe Kaa was a bit if a masochist. After we headed off to Kaa’s car he turned the charm on full blast with a new version of “trust in me”. He asked my name and I said, just call me It… Smiling sweetly showing no fangs.
I had been thrown in at the deep end on my first day in a flamboyant brave new world.
As far as Mervyn was concerned, he just employed a “nora number” which in Gayle, the coded language that developed among South African gay men during the 1960s, was a mix of Afrikaans, English and names favoured by drag queens that chose female names for their drag alter egos. More reserved gay people would cautiously try to get some indication whether the person they fancy was the same way inclined. If you for example referred to somebody attractive the word was “beulah” for beautiful, hilda for ugly, betty bangles for cop, nora for dumb, dora for drink. Gayle’s linguistic creativity reminded me of Oscar Wilde’s wit. Nora people just never got the subtle innuendos. Years later I met Ken Cage, the compiler of a Gayle dictionary, that he kindly autographed for me. Mervyn lived in a world that I was totally unfamiliar with and many of his customers were even more flamboyant. From word go he warned me that as a straight teenager I had to prepare myself for the worst as his clients were OTT camp, cradle snatchers and the biggest gossips in town. I was intrigued with my new job even though it would have been a bit scary for any 15-year-old teenager. He said he kept me hidden in the back for my own safety and then frequently whispered to me in a stage voice when one of many inquisitive gossips stood within hearing distance. I realised I just had my first lesson in the fine art of ensuring sales success via the incredible speed at which gossip travels in a small place like Port Elizabeth. In this case as naïve as I was it was clear that I was the bait that would speed up rentals mid-month when business slowed down. The contrast between my two lives was vast and I carefully kept them apart. Clearly being straight was the smart thing to do and besides I could not relate to the camp Film Fun following that ensured that it was probably one of the most successful film rental shops in town. A massive, banned movie selection also helped. One of my perks was I got to watch free movies and naturally wanted to see the banned ones first.
Mervyn’s secret shelf became my university.
Between A Clockwork Orange, The Naked Civil Servant, and films the censors considered morally dangerous, I learned far more about power, conformity, identity and loneliness than I ever did at schools. Since I was young, I loved Ode to Joy that I played on the piano and only later heard the magnificence of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Seeing the ninth used as a brainwashing tool to block the evil instinct of the main character was horrendous, but it captured my imagination more than any other banned movie. Soon I would be a fan of Pink Floyd’s The Wall which was released in cinematic form in 1983. It became a global hit late in 1979 and I bought the LP soon after.
I desperately needed to confide in Louis but dared not take the risk. Those of us on the grey spectrum often choose anonymity or flying under the radar rather than facing rejection or alienation from the people we love or care about. Watching movies that were well above my pay grade that I was not deemed fit to watch accelerated my growing up process enormously fast. This made me wrestle with topics few teens cared about or understood. Rather ironic to refer to my bricked-up potential soulmates as aliens because we felt apart from society. Sometimes it was just a relief to do mind-numbing things like rewinding movies at the back without having to overthink everything. Stumbling into that little shop of humour and the horror of delightful gossip that Mervyn enjoyed so much was heartwarming. Mentoring me in a world he felt I was not ready for took a lot of insight which I did not have yet. My life would have turned out very differently was it not for him. I learned to spot aliens easily no matter how well they were masked. Mervyn was fearless and taught me bravery when confronting adversaries. I learned to disarm nastiness as it sprouted from insecurity. He got used to having me around and increased my pay handsomely. He even confided in me as he knew how discreet I was. Growing up so fast was unbelievable in one year. Mervyn turned out to be a very special person who really cared for a few special friends. Living in two such different worlds was strange but highly educational. Mervyn taught me how to deal with almost anything other than riding a bike!
This is a brief excerpt from Rubin van Niekerk’s upcoming Memoir/Autobiography, titled Mentors, Family and Friends Matter, chronicling the people, places and experiences that shaped his life from early childhood to later adulthood. We all relate to this universal experience.
New chapters will be published regularly in the Magazine section of the landing page of Gay Pages website, alongside our favourite archived articles, as the journey unfolds. Chapter 6, “The Alien Returns to Framesby High School” follows.
