Saturday, April 9, 2011

MALOME STUMPED!

By Omoseye Bolaji

The eatery/drinking place was almost bursting at the seams; but this did not discourage me from entering it. There were raucous and jocose conversations all around.

I looked for a spot to sit, absent-mindedly staring at the elevated TVs.
I was sure, from habit, that at the end of the cavernous place there would be some space for me. And so it turned out – to my right near the cul de sac I could see at least one table empty. But as I almost got there, there was a tug on my arm.

“Chief,” a friendly voice said. “You can take my seat. I was just leaving.” I now saw that it was an acquaintance of sorts, a man of bonhomie. I sat down where he indicated – and noticed that a young man was sitting in front of me. We nodded at each other.

I placed my order with one of the ladies working here, and waited for service. The gentleman in front of me was taking one of those cider drinks, and on my own part I was soon eating a fine plate of pap and dikgorolo cooked intestines. A lover of fine food, the gastronomic delight “went down the hatch” with alacrity! And now I could concentrate on my drink.

It was an almost awkward situation as the gentleman in front of me and I intermittently stared at each other. I do not make it a habit to be too garrulous with strangers and often leave it to the other party to start talking with me. And so it was this time.

“You don’t like talking much eh?” he said. “I have seen you in the papers many times. You write books and stuff eh?”

That was how the ice was broken. I was thinking that here was a personable young man, and we talked a bit. Presently he said: “Every now and then, I go to many places to drink and relax. Perhaps that is what happens when, like in my case, I have no partner!”

I replied: “Come on! A good looking man like you can get a lady anytime...”
A rather rueful smile from him; then he said: “Actually I’m a woman, not a man.” A pause. “You can see my ID Book to this effect...” She gave me her green ID book, and stunned, I saw that it was true! This fine young ‘man’ was actually a woman!

I began to apologise. “I’m sorry ma’am...I’m so stupid.” Like they say in cricket, I was stumped!

But she stopped me, smiling. “Ag, Ntate don’t worry. Many people do make that mistake, thinking I am a man. Even if I did my hair like a girl, I’d still look rather like a man...” She was very decent about it indeed, trying to put me at ease.

But despite her best efforts, her dignified mien, I still felt quite bad and was happy to leave that place soonest! I now realised even better the plight of the celebrated South African (female) athlete, Caster Semenya; and the furore surrounding her gender; with the strident claims in international circles that the powerfully-built young lady must be a man! Unfortunate, really…