III Elvis of Athos

Elvis of Athos

In 1978, Disco really dominated South Africa and nowhere more so than at Club Athos in Schoeman Street. Situated to the west of Pretoria’s central business district, near the corner of Schoeman and Potgieter Street, the area was deserted at night. A long passage led to a flight of stairs beyond which a gate opened to a magical underworld. First, one saw the black and white squares of the dancefloor and as one’s eyes got used to the disco lights, the tables and chairs took form. At the back, a low stage came into view with more seating and a wide view of the dancefloor.

Then you noticed the patrons. Species you never could’ve imagined inhabiting Pretoria at the time when the Vorsters ruled South Africa. Prime Minister B. J. Vorster and his brother Dr J. D. (Koot) Vorster, the moderator of the Dutch Reformed Church, the largest of the three Calvinist churches. This church dominated the power structures of culture, politics and religion to such an extend that it was labelled “The National Party at prayer.” In 1980 Dr Koot Vorster declared: “Nobody can be a good South African if he is not first an Afrikaner.”1

It’s nearly impossible to describe the social separation between people in South Africa under Apartheid. Individuals were classified into 4 races: Black, Coloured, Indian and White. Things were slightly more relaxed in the ex-colonies of Natal with its majority English speakers amongst the “white” population and in the Cape Province where “coloured” people formed the majority. The inland provinces of Orange Free State and Transvaal were the most conservative and the capital city Pretoria was stiflingly Calvinistic.

Amongst nationalistic Afrikaners, even white English speakers were regarded with distrust although they did not suffer the indignities of Apartheid. Most of them supported the moderate United Party whilst the brave Mrs Helen Suzman, for many years the single member of parliament for the Progressive Party, was the lone parliamentary voice of the disenfranchised. The voters in her Houghton, Johannesburg constituency were overwhelmingly wealthy English speakers.

The Afrikaans version of Calvinism was a fusion of religious dogma and Afrikaner Nationalism. Dr J. D. Vorster had a strong hand in censorship. Television was banned until 1975 and a censorship board either made deep cuts to or banned many popular films. No fewer than 20 000 books were banned at one stage.2

1 Britten, Sarah. The Art of the South African Insult. 30° South Publishers (Pty) Ltd, Newlands, Johannesburg, 2006. ISBN: 192014305X / 97819201432053 2 Van Rooyen, Kobus. A South African Censor’s Tale. Protea Book House, Pretoria, 2011. ISBN: 1869194152 / 978-1869194154.

The most popular youth radio station, LM Radio broadcasting from Mozambique, scrupulously followed the dictates of the South African censorship board by not giving airtime to banned songs but oddly enough, the 7” singles were available in the record stores. Hits like Lola by The Kinks, Indian Reservation by The Raiders, Brown Sugar by The Rolling Stones, Maggie May by Rod Stewart, School’s Out by Alice Kooper, Rubber Bullets by 10cc and many more never made the playlists. All tracks from the albums Jesus Christ Superstar, The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Pink Floyd’s The Wall were broadcast-banned.

Unfortunately but unsurprisingly, the aforementioned racial divide was so firmly embedded that white gays based their terminology on these categories. A coloured gay was called a “Clora”, an Indian gay a “Minah” (from the Indian Minah bird) and a Black gay a “Natalie” (derived from an Afrikaans word “naturel” which means “indigenous” or “aborigine”).

It was only from the middle of the 1980s and especially the latter part of that decade that racial barriers started dissolving. Before then, some “coloured” gays did “pass for white” and access to the clubs and bars of Johannesburg. My friend James, mentioned below, had an Indian gay friend who accompanied us to the bars and clubs of Joburg from about 1985. Not the ones in Pretoria, though. By 1994 when the first elections for all South Africans took place, most gay venues had already integrated although of course bigotry still existed then and even now is not entirely absent in the gay community.

As the visitor to Athos became familiar with the scene, they soon got to know flamboyant drag queens like tall blonde Penny and demure Mary who carried the title Miss Athos 1978. Outrageously clad queens co-existed with attractive, masculine and muscular young Afrikaners in denim trousers and T-shirts.

Straights there were aplenty, especially art and drama students from the University of Pretoria. Even really aged people, someone’s grandparents, regularly frequented the club. And then there were the gay girls… beautiful lipstick lesbians, and many from the army, airforce and navy with a plethora of appearances –from lipstick to bulldyke.

Athos served as a reserve for the protection of rare species. Female crane drivers rubbed shoulders with fine arts lecturers, rent boys, students and medical doctors. The club attracted rich and poor alike; patrons came from upper class eastern suburbs like Faerie Glenn and Queenswood as well as the western blue collar areas like Daspoort, Danville and Proclamation Hill. Some species were so exotic that it was impossible to determine their gender: slim and lean androgynous types that resembled a young Patti Smith.

Amongst those of determinable gender, I was most fascinated by the abundance of lesbians, the butch ones in particular. I had never encountered anything like that and I fell in love with them, to the disapproval of my male gay friends who sternly admonished and cautioned me. It wasn’t good for the image. So I became more discreet but more curious too, the more weird and wonderful things I discovered about them. I soon learned that the worst insult amongst dykes was the term “Kieriejoller.”

Loosely translated, the word means “staff / stick player; any gay girl that slept with a man was thus stigmatized as a Kieriejoller.

And the disco hits kept the dancefloor filled. Amongst the evergreens were Giorgio Moroder’s hypnotic From Here To Eternity, Laurie Marshall’s erotic We Will Make Love, The Michael Zager Band’s entrancing Let’s All Chant and the wildly popular I Feel Love by Donna Summer. By the early morning hours, the beatsper-minute slowed down and non-disco ballads like Cool Wind from the North by Stephanie de Sykes entered the mix.

However, the highlight of the witching hour was a ballad by a disco singer, when the club became bathed in blue for Grace Jones’s sensual La Vie en Rose. That was the sign for lovers to dance really close; the song had become the anthem of a romantic ritual. Amusement enriched the romance when big-bossomed females had to bent far forwards to embrace the other’s shoulders as in the case of the rotund Celia Pumpkins and her mountainous lover.

At least Pumpkins was friendly and benevolent. Tosca Ossewana (Oxwagonia) who was employed at the state printer under the protected labour scheme may have been loud and rowdy but she was harmless. And the slim lipstick lesbian Lynne Polse (Lynne Wrists) who often cried her heart out in the passage to the toilets would never hurt anyone. The marks on her wrists were the result of the indifference of other lesbians to her affections.

Of all of the Athos women, only Fifi gained some notoriety when one Christmas Day, she drove to Vanderbijlpark in a Pretoria municipal passenger bus. Fifi, who was a bona fide employee of the municipality, got drunk and having no other transport, simply used the bus. The scandal made the front page of the Sunday paper Rapport. But Fifi too, was harmless.

Violence lurked under the veneer in characters like Shane and Elvis. Shane’s real name remains a mystery. Some claim it was Shana, others say Shano. Quite possibly the original Shana was adapted to Shano for the club and evolved into Shane under the influence of the then popular TV series. Wiry and sinewy with a dark complexion, Shane had short black hair and a sort of inexplicably sleazy image. One instinctively avoided her on account of her perceived predatory mindset.

Her friend Elvis, on the other hand, was huge. A square block of a woman with a round moon face who wore khaki-coloured safari suits, big brown boots and a comb stuck into a sock. Her wide circle of friends all came from Pretoria’s western working class suburbs and included gay men. Both Shane and Elvis operated cranes for the Iron and Steel Corporation of South Africa. Elvis had other duties too – at Athos the cleaning of the Ladies’ and assuring the availability of toilet paper. She and Shane carried their cigarettes in the fold of their rolled up sleeves.

Only the most informed knew that Shane and Elvis walked Bok and Fox Streets to the east of Church Square to supplement their income. It’s easy to picture Shane in that situation but one’s mind still reels at the thought of Elvis in same. The butch Elvis famous for witticisms such as “You haven’t tasted sweets till you’ve tasted chocolates”.

Elvis who inspired fear or at least respect in most of the club’s patrons. The formidable Elvis who would physically assault anyone who insulted any of her friends. Well, maybe their clientele comprised straight guys looking for punishment. One may add here that both Elvis and Shane had false teeth… in order to suck harder, my child.

Amongst the créme de la créme of the gay guys, no one was more sought after than my friend James. He was the most outspoken in discouraging my admiration for and interest in the dykes. The decorous Mary, Miss Athos 1978, and Poppy, a lesbian who worked for the ultraconservative Herstigte Nasionale Party (HNP: Refounded National Party), shared an apartment in a building where he lived across the street from Art Gallery Park.

Handsome and popular, James never lacked suitors. Anton and Rudi and Johanna Butch-Fem and Zac were four, and a fifth was Morné, a friend of Elvis. Someone had told James that Morné was a Clora whereupon James discreetly enquired but cliques have many ears and rumours of enquiries tend to spread, especially about such a sensitive issue for that time.

Yet there are many types of cliques. Take for example the one to which Pierre belonged. That was a strictly discriminatory group. Lesbians were out of bounds. Straights of both genders were accepted as long as they were refined and well-behaved. The mere existence of butch lesbians offended this clique who perceived them as the Antichrist and ignored them.

Except that fateful evening when Pierre couldn’t help himself. His party occupied a table on the stage with the wide view of the club… and Elvis sat right below them next to the dancefloor. Being artistic and sensitive, Pierre considered Elvis an aesthetic eyesore, or even worse, an existential affront. It was the same with Chappies later, when she spoke about going to Taiwan with her Brigadier for some martial arts tour. Her mere existence disturbed Pierre.

Elvis, as an alpha dyke, took her responsibilities seriously. No one dared criticize any member of her gang. During the course of the evening, Morné pointed the slanderer out to Elvis. It was James who was having a great time with his lover, Dewald Policeman. James, who merely enquired about Morné’s racial composition. Thus hostility already filled the air although Morné wouldn’t have dared to confront James directly due to Dewald Policeman’s bulging muscles. A masculine guy with a friendly disposition, Dewald was clearly not someone to rub up the wrong way.

The next moment a little paper missile hit the back of Elvis’ head. Pierre, annoyed by her presence, had been aiming at her and he finally hit the target. Fortunately for Pierre, his angelic face rendered him an unlikely suspect and his acting ability confirmed his innocence. When Elvis arose with bulging biceps and pulsating jugular, Pierre was as safe as a baby cherub. It was poor Albert next to him who fell prey to the wrath of Elvis. Brutally hoisting him by the collar, she thundered in his face, “Do it again and I’ll fucking kill you!!!”

Elvis’ seemingly unprovoked attack left everyone stunned. Although the missile came from that general direction, Elvis had no way of ascertaining beyond any reasonable doubt that Albert were the guilty party. So she let go of his collar, dropping him down on the seat before swaggering back to her table. Soon afterwards, it was time to go and check whether everything was in order in the Ladies’. Already enraged, she recognized James in the passage – the same one where Lynn Polse stood weeping inconsolably – as the slanderer of her friend Morné.

Grabbing James by the armpits, she lifted him against the wall while squeezing the air from his lungs. “Did you call Morné a Clora!!?” she bellowed. Struggling to breathe, he couldn’t utter a word. Again she roared: “Is it you!!? I’ll bash your fucking face in!!!” at the exact moment when Dewald Policeman rounded the corner to view this violent act. As muscular as he was, Dewald was also the pleasant arbiter type. Instead of launching into her, he soothed her rage with words. Despite her brutality and lack of brain cells, Elvis must have realized that an escalation would have been to her detriment. Dewald’s membership of the police force was well known.

She quickly let go of James, and he stood there swaying. After further gentle words from Dewald and grumbles from Elvis, she swaggered off to the Ladies’. How wonderful that Providence intervened at just the right moment to save my friend! It’s true that James’ pallor lasted for a while but when two o’ clock came round and the lights bathed the club in blue and pink, the rosy hue had returned to his cheeks.

As the romantic rhythms of La Vie en Rose undulated through the air, both couples, James and Dewald and Elvis and her partner, danced oh so close with limbs entwined. Thus romance triumphed over rancour that night at Club Athos, a victory celebrated by Grace Jones:

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle tout bas je vois la vie en rose

La vie en rose, la vie en rose la vie aaaah La vie en rose…”