M.agical A.vian and H.ysterical E.xpedition to M.emel – 2.0
I decided to look for elusive gentlemen farmers Des and Ian by launching a stealth visit to the Memel district, choosing the Memel hotel as my base. This magic old hotel is not just IN the main road, its ON the main road. If you stretch your foot out while drinking a beer on the stoep it could get driven over by the big knobbly tyre of a farmer’s bakkie. Why’s the bakkie nearly on the hotel stoep and does his wife know he’s there? Well, ons sal sien.
I settled on that stoep with a cold beer and asked if anyone knew Des Glutz? Well, they all did and they all had lots to tell me. Just wait right there, said Rudi the friendly hotelier, He’s sure to pop in, it’s Friday.
Various bakkies arrived and men in khaki wearing boots or velskoens trooped into the bar. Most wore langbroeks in khaki. Then a Nissan bakkie parked right in front of me and under the chassis a pair of bony feet in blue slip-slops appeared, followed by a pair of bony legs in faded navy blue rugby shorts with plenty of ballroom. His face and neck were covered by a scraggly beard but two eyes peeped through and I could see this was my man. He’s kinda unmistakable with his half-closed eyelids. Also, khaki shirt with a notebook and pen for the amnesia.
I accosted him from my prime spot on the stoep: ‘Excuse me, what you think you doing? You can’t come in here dressed like that!’ Well, then he knew I was from far, cos he most certainly can and does go into the Memel pub dressed like that. He stopped in his tracks and stared at me with his chin tilted up and his eyes half closed, you know how Des does that. Then he kicked for touch: Wait, I’m just going to tell these fuckin old fossils I’ll be late. He ‘stuck his head in the door and cussed his three slightly older drinking pals, telling them they were fuckin old fossils and he’d be outside, they must behave themselves; then he came back to stare at me. Took a while to see through my new beard, then he said Coppers!? Is that you? He called me Coppers after a Clifton primary schoolmate oke called Copchinsky. He also called policemen copchinskys.
As people arrived everyone greeted Oom Des and he had a cussing and a vloekwoord for each of them. Except the ladies. Hello my sweetheart, I still love you but I’m worried about your heart, he says to one, Come here and let me listen to your heartbeat. She leans over him and he nestles his ear in her boobs and rubs back and forth going Mmmmmm. Haai! Oom Des! she says and rubs his head affectionately. Incorrigible. He has not changed, never mind improved. Not at all, I’m afraid. We had a wonderful evening nodding at each others lies. Every time I told him I don’t normally drink but I’d make an exception tonight cos he was there, he’d order another quart of beer each. He left for home, very late, with the re-heated and re-heated pizza Mercia had ordered as a peace offering.
I discovered a few things that Memel evening: One was that the mense of Memel love the oke.
The next day I drove around the well-known Seekoeivlei nature reserve; Des was off to pretend to buy bulls at a vendusie with one of the fuckin old fossils. I saw them on the road but Des had his head in his notebook for amnesia and the fuckin old fossil doesn’t know me.
Des and Mercia have a lovely spacious home in town and Oom Des decreed that a braai would be held there. Unfortunately I hopped into his bakkie to go there, mid-conversation, so I had no beers, no car. Soon after, another apparition arrived with a snow-white beard. The Bothas Pass hermit had emerged from his cave, bearing enough beers for an army, plus a bottle of brandewyn. Ian Stervis Steele, who I had not seen for many decades. What a night. About ten people, about a hundred beers and a gallon of brandewyn; lots of mutton chops, pork ribs and boerewors, a huge pot of pap and a very lekker sous. Very good oldtime music and Des at the head of the table till WAY late. Generous hospitality and much laughter.
Stervis, myself and a local couple stayed the night with Des and Mercia and their four dogs, the most notable one being a pekingese / sausage dog cross. Pitch black and chubby, about ankle-high, with that Pekingese-style smashed flat beak. Name: RAMBO. If you weren’t careful it would lick you. I got the comfy couch in the lounge.
The next day I was off-peak and had a snooze back at the hotel and booked another night. In the afternoon I drove out to Normandien and Mullers passes and then visited Des. For tea this time. Then back to the hotel where Rudi cooked me a huge T-bone and I had one glass of red and an early night, dank die hemel, Memel.
I saw stonechats, mountain wheatears and amur falcons; and the beautiful Klipspruit valley.
Before I left on this drive I called in at the butcher for some fatty biltong. The owner enquired what I was doing in town and I said I had been sent on a special mission to find and fix a man called Des Glutz. He and two customers in the shop roared with laughter and told me in no uncertain terms that there was no way I could ever live long enough to achieve that.
~~oo0oo~~
mahem – grey crowned crane that shouts ‘MaHem!’
bakkie – pickup; ute; status symbol
slip-slops – Glutz fashion footwear
fuckin old fossils – people slightly older than Des
vloekwoord – swearword; expletive; term of endearment
Oom Des – old codger
Haai, Oom Des – Stoppit, you naughty old codger
mense – people; folk
braai, boerewors, pap, sous, etc – ritual burnt offerings; various animals sacrificed
brandewyn – sacramental drink served as part of the braai ritual in tall glasses; distilled from grapes or peaches, they say. Stervis brought a bottle along which he’d found at a helluva good price, he said.
dank die hemel – Memel ‘sanks heavens’ ritual chant
~~oo0oo~~
Memel is maybe named after a Memel in East Prussia where they fought a battle in 1257, even before Des was born. The name means silence, but that has been broken since Des moved to town, and since Memel joined with Zamani to become Memel-Zamani.
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