Des & Mimi

Up until now I have made sure not to mention Des or Mimi, the elderly Afrikaner couple that I currently rent my flat from, much in my blog. While they have fascinating views about the world that would make for an interesting read, I find many of these views extremely offensive. If I go on about how kind they are to me, while leaving out the omnipresent paranoid racism, I am lying by omission. If I focus too much on their bigotry, I fail to give them credit for all the kindness I have received. To create a balanced view of Des & Mimi is difficult. Thus far I have avoided it. Now that they are kicking me out, I suppose it’s time to have a go.

One of the first things Des told me about himself was that he is not racist. Without the slightest sense of irony, Des then went on to explain how “they” are going to ruin South Africa with “their” corruption, evil, etc. “They” is code for black people, or roughly 80% of the country. He then provided me a number of colourful anecdotes highlighting crimes where black people maim or kill white people. He wrapped up our first meeting with a few bible verses that he felt supported his dire predictions for South Africa’s political and economic development. All of this plus Mimi washed (and pressed) all of my dirty clothes, made me dinner, and gave me a box of milk bones to feed the dogs.

I went over to their house, a 10 second walk across our shared courtyard, on many occasions. A few times we watched rugby; they shared many a meal with me as well. My time in their home was an unsettling combination of typical South African generosity with a healthy dose of jaw-dropping, racially themed diatribes. What do you say to a person when they have just said “Blacks are lazy”, especially when your mouth is full of eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns? I never thought of anything especially profound to say. Sometimes I would attempt to subtly question their assumptions, but generally I confined my comments on such issues to “hmmm” or “ah”.

Even while there was no immediate problem, I knew that my living there was a ticking bomb. Though initially there was no outright ban on black guests to my flat, it was a safe bet what their preference on the matter would be. Part of the problem is my naiveté. While each meeting with Des & Mimi yielded nuggets of wisdom such as, “They’ll say hello to your face, then stab you in the back”, I still found it hard to believe that they would be so bold as to flatly deny me the right to invite black people to my flat. Even knowing South Africa’s history and a daily provision of clues were not enough to get it through my thick American skull.

The first time Des ran into me and one of my black guests, his displeasure was written clearly upon his face. He stopped dead in his tracks, made sure she wasn’t an American (which would have been OK), and then rushed inside. When he had met previous guests, that is to say other white people, he was cordial to a fault; chatting for 10 or 15 minutes, relaying recent news from America, and on one occasion even offering some snacks. The next day after he caught me with my black guest, he told me that I couldn’t bring strangers over to the house. Strangers are dangerous, he informed me. I wouldn’t know, since I’m a foreigner. Even though I knew that strangers were a feeble cover for his issues with black people, I took him at his word. I still hoped that there was some middle ground that we could find.

I haven’t had many people to my place since moving in over 4 months ago- a handful of locals, some of the closer Peace Corps volunteers, my boss and his wife. Since Des & Mimi generally gave me space, I was able to have visitors without them knowing. However, once I met Rachel this was impossible to sustain. Since we started dating, she’s been over quite a bit. Since she is black, this was a problem for Des & Mimi.

Des spotted us one night as we were entering my flat. As soon as she’d slipped inside, Des told me that we needed to talk. The talk was, in a word, ugly. If someone has a phobia, perhaps of heights or snakes, confronting them with that phobia is a sure way to get them to freak out. I am afraid of failure and large bodies of water. Des is absolutely petrified of black people.

When they called me into their living room, it was Des who did the talking, while Mimi opted for a silent reproach of my misdeeds. He attacked a number of my lifestyle choices, though the decision to bring black people to my house seems to have ticked him off the most. Why? Simple- it is not because they are black per se, but rather it is because of the inherent security risk that their presence entails. Or something like that. Frankly, it was a bit hard to follow. It was like talking to King Rainbow, but without the fun. Apparently, on one night that I had “hidden” Rachel’s presence from him, he spotted a person lurking about the backyard. This person was not “spotted” in the sense that Des “saw” him. Rather, the dogs spotted this mysterious personage while Des leapt to the rescue to fetch his flashlight. This person, who it may be assumed was black, was looking for either me or Rachel. From this conclusion, Des could not be swayed.

Beyond that, word will get around. Neighbours are asking questions. Rachel will tell her siblings, cousins, & friends about the wonders contained on Des & Mimi’s property. In time, there will be nightly home invasions of people looking to get a piece. Therefore, black guests can simply not be allowed. “Do you really expect me to compromise my family’s safety?” Des asked me incredulously. Getting Des to flatly tell me I couldn’t have black guests was surprisingly hard, but eventually I got him to say it explicitly. He kept dancing around the point by blaming crime rates and the general attributes of roughly 35 million black South Africans.

With comic timing, Des then went on to reiterate that he is not a racist. Des then informed me, yet again, how during last Christmas they had bought a sack of corn meal and a dozen frozen chickens for “some of the blacks that work at Kruger National Park”. He mentioned another oft repeated story where he spent some money on a charity for black orphaned children. He declared that he does more for black people than I could ever hope to do.

Fine. I’m not getting into any competitions over who helps black people more. My focus is on not being too bitter about the whole thing. Rachel, for her part, felt partly responsible for the whole mess. I tried to assuage that fear. It seems clear to me that this is Des & Mimi’s problem, not hers. I try to keep in mind that Des & Mimi come by their racism honestly. Every authority figure in their life and every social cue that they have experienced during their 70 odd years in South Africa has nurtured it. Not only did their parents, teachers, preachers and politicians promote it, but Apartheid itself was designed to keep whites ignorant about the lives of the black population. When Des says, “The blacks were better off under Apartheid than they are now”, he is speaking from a place of surprising ignorance.

I am moving into my new flat next week. It is in a vast, newly constructed apartment complex on the edge of Tzaneen’s central business district. The guy renting out flats for the apartment told me the complex is maybe 80% black, 10% whites, and 10% Indian. “That sounds like what you should expect in South Africa!” I responded brightly. The NGO that I work for, Tsogang, has been unwaveringly supportive of me from the beginning. This is essential, since they are the ones footing the bill for my room.

Despite Des & Mimi, I am happy. South Africa is still treating me well. I am meeting people. I met some Afrikaner gentlemen who sympathised with my housing woes and invited me to hit the town with them at my soonest convenience. They like talking to me especially because of my wacky American accent. I met an Afrikaner currently living in Ireland (home visiting his parents) as I was running. Specifically, he was running faster than me up a hill. He was about to overtake me, until I surged. He knew enough about Iowa to declare it “the middle of nowhere”. Not during caucus season, I thought to myself a little defensively. I even met a fellow American volunteer. He is from Guyana. I knew he was not from South Africa when he effortlessly threw me a perfect pass with my Frisbee.

Then, of course, there is Rachel. It is a shame that the first time I mention her in the blog has to be in conjunction with such an unfortunate incident. She is a 24 year old Shangaan woman who works at the local grocery store. Next year she is planning on completing her degree in Human Resource Management; then on to better employment. She shares my passion for long walks as well as a good book. She’s cool.

I am looking forward to having guests at my new place without the fear of being scrutinized. I’m also looking forward to meeting my new neighbours. It may not surprise you to know that I have mixed feelings about Des & Mimi. While leaving them was the easiest decision I’ve made in a long while, I will miss certain aspects of our relationship. After all of Des’s posturing and ultimatum giving, Mimi stepped in. “We’ve treated you like our son”, she said simply, looking me dead in the eyes. This much I think is true. After that, they reinstated their offer to take me on a day trip to Kruger National Park since I house sat for them while they were on vacation. I said sure.

So we went together. Mimi made sandwiches. Des bought me ice cream. It was pleasant. We haven’t really spoken since then. Clearly, we have a complicated relationship. I am learning that South Africa is a complicated place.