Where continents meet
DURBAN'S Point precinct is where Europe and Asia met Africa. It has always been a melting pot of cultures and vices – scruffy, dangerous, vibrant and colourful. In days of yore the occasional sortie to places like the Smugglers' Inn, on the dockside, was an absolute must for the social swingers.
To quote from a book just published by my old colleague Anthony Morris: "Zulu, English, Afrikaans, Hindi, Tamil – the main Point languages – assailed the ears, loud and exuberant. On the ships one heard the quieter tones of northern Europe, the chatter from the Far East, and the twang from North America. During and after the war troopships and war vessels brought the accents of Britain, Australia and New Zealand. There was more Portuguese and Greek heard in the small cafes and tearooms in Point Road than at the docks."
Ant ought to know. He grew up at the Point, where his father worked in the harbour administration. He first surfed and fished at Vetch's Pier. He soaked up the atmosphere and observed the goings-on. And goings-on there were aplenty in a place frequented by sailormen and where Point Road was also known as "Boat Road – whores both sides."
From the Point (published as an e-book by Amazon) is a fictionalised collection of short stories and vignettes, much of it told through the barbershop of Karl De Jager, veteran of the wartime Western Desert and subsequent world traveller with the merchant navy. A barbershop is an ideal setting for such yarns. As Ant notes: "Through life one meets several types of prolific talkers. Politicians, salesmen and confidence tricksters seek to influence, sway opinion, sell, steal and seduce. Then there are barmen, barbers and taxi drivers. They talk for pleasure. They neither proselytise nor preach. All they want is attention, and some not even that. They talk regardless. They offer opinions, gossip, hearsay evidence – and sometimes interesting facts."
The book is fiction, but based on reality. For instance, I myself remember very well the Point Road lady who could balance two pints of beer on her ample bosom. So will thousands of Durban people. She was an institution.
The Point is in a sense Durban's own Cannery Row. Ant does well to capture what was there in those now distant days, before things change for better or worse, as it seems they must. He also gets across the way the Point is a portal to a wider world; its exuberance a spur to people like Karl de Jager (and himself) to get out and explore that world..
For the record
HISTORY turns on such things. Yesterday we discussed the pigeon skeleton found in a chimney in Surrey, bearing a coded World War II message. George Hutchison, of Kwambonambi, solves the riddle.
"Just to set the record straight, the pigeon found in the chimney in Surrey was actually dispatched some six weeks ago from Kwambonambi, bearing the message: 'Archduke Ferdinand found alive hiding in the Kwambonambi Country Club. World War I cancelled.'"
Punography
ANOTHER dose of puns:
· I know a guy who's addicted to brake fluid. He says he can stop any time.
· How does Moses make his tea? Hebrews it.
· I stayed up all night to see where the sun went. Than it dawned on me.
· This girl said she recognised me from the vegetarian club, but I'd never met herbivore.
· I'm reading a book about anti-gravity. I can't put it down.
· I did a theatrical performance about puns. It was a play on words.
· They told me I had Type A blood, but it was a Type-O.
· A dyslexic man walked into a bra.
A-a-a-a-argh again!
Tailpiece
She (into her cellphone): "Where are you?"
He: "You remember that jewellery shop we went into five years ago? Where you fell in love with that diamond necklace we couldn't afford, and I said one day I'd get it for you?"
She (with a catch in her voice): "Yes, I remember."
He: "Well, I'm in the bar right next door to it."
Last word
The folly of mistaking a paradox for a discovery, a metaphor for a proof, a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, and oneself for an oracle, is inborn in us.
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