My Face in a Book

There was a knock at our front door. A stranger. No-one who was anyone went to our front door at 95 Stuart Street. They had a long walk up our front path from the seldom-used front gate half hidden in the high hedge, and then a long wait while people inside thought Who The Hell Comes To The Front Door? I walked the long trek down our long dark passage and opened up. There stood a little poephol with a hat and a camera. Are you Peterrr Swaaanepoel? he asked. Yep. Oh, I’m from ve Volksblad and I’m here to take your picture. That gave me a huge grin. What for!? I asked, curious. For the best student award after when the Vrystaat matric results come out, he explained. Ah, you’ve come to the wrong place. Someone has sadly misled you, I’m sorry, I said, starting to shut the door.

He was ready, he had his foot in the door, brave little poephol doing a good journalistic job. No, Mnr Steyl said you might resist, but I’m not wrong, I do want a picture of you please.

He said Please. I’m a sucker for people who say please.

OK, shoot, I said. No, please, will you put your school tie on, and can I come inside and get a good shot? He said please. Into the lounge we went. I went off to fetch my multi-coloured school tie, demurely coloured in dark blue, orangy-yellow and green. I stood at the mantelpiece, tie loosely attached. Next to me grinned the illegal stolen skull of the poor San Bushman from South West Africa. Can you do up your tie, please?

A bridge too far. No, this is as good as you’re going to get. Shoot now or forever hold onto your piece, I said, peering over the top of my specs. If he wanted perfesser, I’d give him perfesser. He shoots, he leaves, panda-like (old joke).

Wragtig, that thing was published some time later! There I was, 2cm by 1cm in black and white, looking for all the world like a scruffy schoolboy in poorly-fitting spectacles who couldn’t tie a decent tie knot. So an accurate rendition. Apparently among the dwindling few rooineks in the province, I was one of the very few who knew how to skryf an eksamen. Bugger me. A bit like early facebook, I spose.

~~oo0oo~~

(In this school annual pic taken earlier that year – 1972 – I had also tried to peer over my specs for a professorial look. Well, it was the akademiese presteerders photo)

~~oo0oo~~

poephol – fellow

Volksblad – the Chosen Nation’s Facebook (stand down Israel, there was a chosen nation before you ous)

Wragtig – true’s bob

rooineks – not of the volk

skryf an eksamen – write an exam paper

akademiese presteerders – nerds