The Idler, Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Ciskei International Airways APARTHEID produced all kinds of follies, one of the more bizarre being Ciskei International Airways, which consisted of two jet aircraft that flew in from America and never took off again, and a swish international airport that was built near King William's Town, 10 minutes' flying time from the airport at East London. The international airport was built of glass and chrome – no expense spared – but it never did receive any aircraft apart from the two that flew in from America. Unfortunately the ground to ceiling glass windows have been destroyed over the years by enraged billygoats that charge at their reflection. The project cost millions, if not billions, and was all courtesy of the South African taxpayer. The story is now revisited by raconteur Spyker Koekemoer (aka Pat Smythe), who launched it last week and has it posted on his blog. Pat is a man who prefers the back roads of South Africa because of the interesting people you meet, and the stories you hear, and I concur with him there. I've met more interesting people in the Pongola bar than in any five-star establishment in the city. Pat is also on a mission to rekindle the Herman Charles Bosman idiom. The back roads provide him a wealth of material. What I didn't know about the Ciskei International Airport is that one of the aircraft has since departed. No, nobody got it airworthy again after all these years. It's like this. One of the drawbacks of the first plane to land was that it wasn't equipped with passenger seats. Instead the interior consisted of bedrooms, a cocktail bar and that kind of thing. It had been the flying hotel suite of some rock stars, not a passenger aircraft. Some years ago a local businessman bought the plane He pumped up the tyres, removed the wings and had it towed through King William's Town to a beach plot he owned. There the wings were re-attached, glass walls were dropped from them and the aircraft now serves as a beach cottage. The bedrooms and galley are for sleeping and cooking. The areas under the wings are for entertaining. So a Convair 880 airliner, once the flying hotel suite of American rock stars, ends its days as a kind of trailer home gazing out over the Indian Ocean. Ex Africa semper aliquid novi – out of Africa always something new. You find these things mainly on the back roads. Smart old man A MORALITY tale follows: An old prospector shuffles into town leading a tired old pack mule. He heads straight for the saloon. He ties his mule to the hitching rail and is brushing dust from his face and clothes when a young gunslinger steps out of the saloon with a gun in one hand and a bottle of whisky in the other.  "Hey, old man, have you ever danced?" "No, I never did dance ... never really wanted to." A crowd has gathered as the gunslinger grins and says "Well, you old fool, you're gonna dance now." At which he starts firing about the old man's feet. Sure enough, the old prospector starts hopping about like a flea on a hot skillet. Everyone is laughing fit to bust. The young gunslinger fires his last shot and turns, still laughing, to go back into the saloon. The old man turns to his pack mule, pulls out a double-barrelled shotgun and cocks both hammers.   The loud clicks carry clearly. The crowd stop laughing. The young gunslinger turns around very slowly. The young gunman stares at the old-timer and those twin barrels. The prospector quietly says: "Son, have you ever licked a mule's ass?" The gunslinger swallows hard. "No sir ... but I've always wanted to." Moral: ·         Never be arrogant. ·         Don't waste ammo. ·         Whisky makes you think you're smarter than you are. ·         Don't mess with old men ... they didn't get old by being stupid!

Tailpiece

A YOUNG Australian tourist is drinking cappuccino at a pavement cafe on his first night in Rome. A pretty girl sits down opposite him.

"Hello," he says. "Do you understand English?"

"Only a little."

"How much?"

"Fifty dollars."

Last word

Three o'clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do.

Jean-Paul Sartre