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I spent my next holidays with my eldest brother, Frank Joseph Leith in Salisbury1. He was an incredible mentor and tutor. One night, on a weekend, he decided it was time for me to learn about life. To that end he took me on a tour of nightspots and shebeens. A shebeen is an informal pub where people gather to hear music, eat, drink and socialize. Their allure is their informality. Shebeens are common in the southern African region.
I am counseled throughout by my brother; counseled at great length about life, people and behaviour in particular. I learn to distinguish been those people that can be trusted and "shady characters" who must be avoided. So too as regards treating a lady and avoiding "dirty women". Dirty women will steal your money and give you "notch" [venereal disease]. To mix with shady characters is to be "a mug". A mug lacks motivation, is an under achiever and will inevitably end up in "boop" [prison] or at the bottom of the societal pile. Everything is said in a particular voice and tone.
Everywhere we go he is treated with infectious respect with people glad-handing him and back-slapping him with unrestrained enthusiasm. It is obvious that he also a giant in their perception, despite his small frame and dark skin. I am introduced to alcohol and given my first beer. I feel like I have just become a "made man2".
Frank was a great fan of Audie Murphy3, a star in western movies. So he emulates his hero as he speaks to me. I listen captivated and enthralled at my brother, my legendary big brother. Physically I am already taller than him but he is a giant in my eyes. As these words hit my computer screen, my heart breaks and I fight back tears as I remember my brother, Frank Joseph Leith4.
At 3 in the morning we start walking home as Frank explains that traveling on his 650cc Norton Motorcycle would be in breach of the law, in lieu of the amount of alcohol he has drunk. It is a clear night. There is little traffic and the streets are devoid of people. I feel a bit tired but on top of the world as I listen to my brother and hang on his every word.
My world is rudely interrupted when I hear a voice shout - "Hey you ...- hey you … you better stop right now … " We turn to see a White uniformed policeman emerging from the shadows. Frank puts one hand on my arm and whispers that I must say nothing, whatever happens. The officer stops real close to us and glares down at us. He wants to know what we are doing, what we "up to" at 3 in the morning. "Don't think I don't know you Coloureds - " he goes on and implies that our presence in the street, at that time of night, is only consistent with an intention to steal, a propensity amongst Coloureds with which he is all too familiar.
Audie Murphy tries to explain - "no officer … I am out on the town with my youngster ...I am teaching him about life ...not to be a shady character…" The policeman makes it clear that he does not want to hear "fucking bullshit". He is in no mood for it; and what does Frank mean when he says this is "his youngster". Crass rudeness changes to rage when Frank explains that I am his younger brother. "So you think you are a clever pikkie5 hey ...trying to be smart with me ... talking shit …” is the response. Discourse becomes confrontation; and confrontation becomes heated, as my brother and the police officer talk at cross-purposes. Frank is attempting to make things go away. The police officer is escalating the situation. He is incensed that this "kaffir", a label he now accords Frank, has the temerity to pretend that he has not been caught in the act of training a Coloured kid in the business of stealing. Not for a nanosecond does he believe that Frank is my elder brother.
Things take a turn for the worse when the officer says that what Frank really needs is a good "fucking up" as prison only makes pikkies like him worse. I can only think that, also on account of his small stature, Frank was always sensitive about anyone threatening him. He reacts in a way that I was to witness in later life in similar situations. Hitherto a cool and respectful Audie Murphy, his tone changes markedly as he rubs his wrists together and mutters darkly - "if you ever think you can fuck me up … me … dabula nyosi6 … you had better prove it mister..!" The officer is visibly amused by this counter challenge. "So a stupid fucking pikkie like you wants to fight hey… " he guffaws enquiringly. "Anytime officer … anytime…" is the response, in a quiet but pregnant Audie Murphy drawl.
An obscene cameo is then played out. The two protagonists agree to find a place to fight. I am asked to help in the search. We walk through the streets of the city looking for a secluded spot, where they can have their fight. We even walk right past the main police station. The absurdity of it, the sheer wrongness of it is not lost on me. But with every fiber in my body I am aware that it is unavoidable. This thing has to be played out. It has a momentum of its own that cannot be stopped. Racist contempt and arrogance will endure until it is checked by the spirit, strength and belief of the oppressed underdog.
We find a small courtyard in a sanitary lane near the railway station. Frank says to the officer - "I respect the Queen ... I will not fight unless you remove your cap and belt ... as they have the Queen's badges". Mentally I note that "The Queen” is also our national anthem which we sing at school. The officer is only too happy to oblige, and I am handed both cap and belt to safe-keep.
The two are a physical miss-match. Frank is no more than 5 foot 8 inches and of lightweight build. His opponent is around 6 foot 2 and burly. I am concerned but not afraid for my brother. He has built up my faith and trust in him over many years. I know that he would never take on something that is to fail. That would be a betrayal of all he stands for and believes in.
Their physical miss-match is soon conversely mirrored in the fight. It is a no-contest as Frank proceeds to give his opponent a boxing lesson. Punches, thrown by the officer, turn into wild swings as they fail to find their mark. Frank is "Makiti" [the cat] once again, back in Makokoba Township, feigning, ducking, weaving and counter punching with deadly accuracy. Soon the man's face is a bloody mess ... a huffing, puffing, snotty bloody mess. We leave him on his knees in the courtyard and walk home. On the way we review the fight, and I am schooled into the key elements for success in this department.
A whole year later we are at Frank's home preparing for Xmas which is the next day. A black car pulls up outside and soon there is a knock on the door. I open to find a White man at the door, impeccably attired in a black pin striped suit and tie. "Good evening” he says very politely and then in a slightly firmer and more formal tone - "Please hand them over ... we don't want any trouble ... just hand them over…" and as I look at him quizzically he adds ... " … the cap and the belt".
Frank's eyes convey an instruction of assent. I go to the bedroom, and from the top of a wardrobe, I retrieve the police officer's cap and belt. The man takes these from me saying ... "Have a very happy Xmas ... goodbye" and leaves.
In this way the CID7 section of the BSAP end one of many mini struggles played out so often in Rhodesia.
1 Salisbury is now named Harare – in Zimbabwe.
2 A made man, also known as a wise guy, made member, made guy, man of honor, soldier or friend of ours to the family as opposed to "friend of mine" [not made], is someone who has been officially inducted into the Mafia [La Cosa Nostra]. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Made_man
3 Audie Leon Murphy [June 20, 1926 [?] – May 28, 1971] was a much-decorated American soldier who served in the European Theater during World War II. He later became an actor, appearing in 44 American films, and also found some success as a country music composer. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Audie_Murphy
4 Picture is of my brother Frank Joseph Leith. He was given the surname Leith, the family name of our paternal forebears.
5 Pikkie – racial slang meaning a young African
6 Dabula nyosi – isiNdebele literally meaning “to tear that which is sweet”
7 CID - Criminal Investigation Department of the British South Africa Police. What a marvelous piece of detective work on the part of the BSAP when you consider that there were no police officers in our Coloured community. It also means that they got to the truth without even hearing from us as my brother was not accused or charged for "assaulting a police officer". Wow!
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