BONES, BRAAM, ANTS AND SIMMY There we are 1979, Johannesburg, Friday, Mayfair , 43 8TH avenue , Simmy’s ( yours truly) front verandah , ,the jangling slightly out of tune box guitar , Simmy’s somewhat questionable vocal abilities , bottle of Sothern’s, jug of ice ,boy oh boy were we alive. The tireless troops of the testosterone brigade ,ready to conquer whatever damsel in distress that we happened to arrive upon, and once in a while along the way love was good to us EPISODE ONE BRAAM One night I found myself standing at the bar of San Lorenzo(a Hillbrow dico). My compadre’s that night were Braam (pictured in the cover photo) and Nick Venderio aka Vend. When it came to smooth talkers of the pick em variety these two were the smoothest of the smooth. When they locked onto a target, you had to hire the Mossad to extract these tenacious individuals. On that particular occasion the persistent invader was Braam who to achieve the task at hand was about to display his full armory of charm and flair. The task at hand was a an innocuous looking blond bimbette who didn’t seem to respond at all to Braam’s first pick-up line but softened on the second one. By the third she even cracked a smile, when the forth hit home, by all intents and purposes , her facial expression indicated that Braam was home Jerome. Then came Beans, a diminutive somebody whose family origin could be traced back to the Mediterranean nation of Portugal. Beans moved with the arrogant swagger and aggressive demeanor of a much larger more physically well-endowed individual. Beans proceeded to imbibe Braam’s beer. Braam offered a verbal protest and I altered my body language to demonstrate my displeasure. Vend a Portuguese himself correctly read the situation. He indicted with a head gesture towards a wall on the far side of the club. There they were in full regalia, the Portuguese army of King Beans , like the whirling dervish Sudan lining up for attack. First I arrived at the correct conclusion that the blonde female recipient of the Braam onslaught was romantically connected to Beans and co, second I considered the odds (10 to one), third I very rapidly retreated towards the exit. I wasn’t into an evening’s entertainment of head kicking, especially if my head was going to be kicked This was the time of the Johannesburg Lebanese/Portuguese club wars. I being of Lebanese origin was by no means an active participant- neither were my companions for the night This venue was at basement level. In order to find the safety of the pavements of Hillbrow I needed to climb a steep flight of stairs, this I proceeded to do without further hesitation. My cowardly but wise climb towards freedom from pain was, was blocked by more potential trouble -the downward movement of another regiment of the Beans army returning to headquarters. I needed to practice an avoidance maneuver, I did this by ducking into the men’s toilet which was conveniently situated about halfway up the stairs, but much to my horror the potential trouble followed me. Two Lusitanian’s resembling bloodthirsty pirates, confronted me. “hey you like a Lebanese” said Lusitanian pirate number one Lusitanian number two grunted his agreement . Both individuals took a menacing step forward. ‘’ I’m not a Leb” I blurted out “ You look like one’’ offered number two ‘’ No I’m J. J.J. Jewish” I stuttered. “Whats your name” both asked at the same time “ Michael “ I answered “ Michael Goldberg “ My two would be assailants, gave each other a confused look I saw this moment of confusion as an opportunity to escape. This I did with absolute haste. When I happily placed my feet on the pavement of liberty I found that Venderio had got there before me. Before I could ask “ where’s Braam”. Braam emerged out of the entrance of the club. His usual calm casual veneer, was not in place, it say he looked distraught is an understatement. When I received the news from Ants that Frank Braam had passed away, I was filled with a deep sadness. Mr. nice, decent happy go lucky ( a good friend), was gone. Boy could that boy throw a pick-up line. Three of the people in the cover photograph, played in the legendary 1975 Western High open soccer team that played there way to the Coca Cola cup final at the rand stadium. The one who was not in the side was probably the worst soccer player in the school, that was me Simmy. The next two episodes will be titled “ Ants “ and “ Bones’’ this will follow later . Watch this space.
Posted on: Sun, 23 Nov 2014 07:47:08 +0000
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