What is Home?

A Slice of Gay Pie: What is Home?

By: Juanne-Pierre de Abreu

Published October 2011

In Cape Town, the city with oodles of possibilities, however lacking any real sense of urgency, I find myself wondering if it has become my home yet?  And not to say that I am wondering if I am a Cape Tonian yet or not, but how comfortable am I really in a city filled with strangers?  It is the saying we have all heard before “Home is where the heart is”.  So when do we know we are home?  When do we know for sure that which our heart deems home sweet home is in actual fact home sweet home? 

Packing a bag and heading back to Johannesburg for work, I decided it was time to put myself to the test and see whether I ran away from Johannesburg or if I ran towards Cape Town.  Where does my heart lie?

I land in OR Tambo and the land is dusty and brown.  The crisp air reminds me of early hours waking up for school time.  A memory I care not to remember because lets face it, coming out is really when I felt my life began and I only did so in my Matric year.  So with miserable memories flushing back into the foreground of my mind I am already very unimpressed to be back… ‘home’. 

So would it be fair of me to totally throw all that Johannesburg is made up of, down the sink merely because it is bitterly cold, unattractive and dry?  Of course not, because what makes Jozzie town an amazing city are the people, the many different faces and smiles that have all seemed to find themselves crammed into this, albeit very large, landmass.  Working hard and socializing even harder.  It’s the city of cool people.  So why have I left?  Why have I abandoned all these very amazing South African people for another city.

The sea is a biggie, the mountain too, the foreign men are a bonus but it all boils down to the fact that I can walk the streets… and no I do not mean work the streets.  In Cape Town, it is possible to walk the streets of the city at night.  Yes, one should always be vigilant but the walking of the streets has more to do with the fact that it is pedestrian friendly than because it is not as riddled with crime as the City of gold.  If one has to walk around in Jozzie you mainly just walk past high wall after high wall, security complex after security complex.  This is hardly pleasing to any of the senses when one wants to take a stroll just around their block.

Hardly half way through my project and I am missing Cape Town, missing the moisture in the air that the cool sea breeze brings in and missing the sidewalk shops that I pass on my way to the grocery shop - sans the mall.  However, Jozzie is my little sin city now.  The men are so delicious with their inviting attitude and friendly demur.  One cannot help but to dive off the top high board towards the deep, swirling pool of men… all waiting to swim with you.  

With all the back stabbing that goes on in the Mother City it was good to be back amongst men who understand what it means to be a community.  It took me a while to drop the whole “Don’t touch me” attitude I adopted from that little Mountainous Seaside Village but eventually I swam.  I dived down so deep I almost did not come up for air.  Almost.

But Like any good Sin City, there is always a time when we have to leave.  And I will say it again: There comes a time we HAVE to leave.  This time of year shows us exactly how amazing change can be.  Spring is in full force up here on the Highveld.  The first thunderstorm has raged over our heads, flashing its bright lights and cracking some pretty fierce thunder.  And the flowers are in full bloom, which fills the morning and evening air with some of the sweetest smells.  Now I prepare to get my overworked ass back home.  Leaving Jozzie town to return to my lazy little Village by the sea and next to the mountain.  It has become my home even though it seems I am going home to nobody… but like spring from winter, we learn that something will come from nothing and with the best treatment it can blossom.

Something New...?

It happens to us every so once and a while when life takes an unexpected turn and what was, changes into something that will be.  Through an unlucky turn of events my family decided they are ready to leave the home that I grew up in and move out to, hopefully, find greener pastures for themselves.  Now with all of that in mind I am totally for change if it will enrich anyone but do I feel a loss nonetheless?

As I walk through the garden, into the house and pass the rooms, all my childhood memories rush through my brain like heroin through a vein.  And admittedly I am someone who can live in the past - not necessarily dwelling on it, just living it over again, in my head.  This house embodies the family i know and love even if the years have seen it decrease in numbers.  Around the corner is where I experienced my first kiss - with a girl... and a boy.  The pool was the 1st pool i ever went skinny dipping in.  My room, well those walls witnessed my first wet dream, my first heart break, my first drinking splurge, my first joint, my first dirty magazine, my first wank, my first everything and now it is an empty shell representing nothing of the boy I use to be.  It does take me back to a time where I was the fat little gay boy sitting in his room most of the time watching film after film after film, very anti social and in all fairness, even more difficult to get along with than the man I am today.  Probably because I get so uncomfortable in my own skin and it showed in my youth but with age I have learnt how it really is the only skin I have to encapsulate my body with and escaping it is never an option.

My point to all of this... when do we as gay men decide it is time for a family of our own?  Above it all, that is something I thought I really wanted , a child of my own, and at times I feel like a woman, like I am not looking for a great husband but a super father.  My mock ovaries are banging together looking out for a man that wants the same... or atleast he is looking for a man that will look after the kids because lets face it, I am totally going to be a stay at home dad - if i ever actually become a dad - and for two reasons: I can write at home and kids need a parent with them most of the day.

I long to get some advice from my dad, the whole man to man time conversation about when is it right, how will you know, am i good enough to be a dad...?
The idea is infuriating.

I thought I was getting closer to having or atleast starting a family but that did not work out probably because I am really not ready to be a dad or a husband, for heavens sake I can barely look after myself properly.  Only recently just getting my emotions under control and to that, Epilum is an amazing drug, I cannot shed a tear even if I wanted to.  Instead I have chosen to focus on new part time work, writing the manuscript to my first Novel.  I have a tutor.  Module Two under way, so hopefully next year this time it will be ready to be fleshed into something more than just a manuscript.

Is my writing my new version of babies or a family... it does make me very happy!  So my lesson today is to try find something to do once a day that brings a little bit of joy to your life... and I am not talking about finding a laugh everyday but finding a piece of innocent pleasure that both enriches and enlightens your soul.

 

Mild or Hot?

'127 Hours' is a great movie, it truly is an amazing story.  Although looking at some of Boyles previous films one might suggest he has a preoccupation with insanity.  I might even be so bold as to ask Mr. Boyle if he has ever suffered temporary insanity whether mild or extra hot.

I have, lets say it was hot, and I am not even talking about my wild crazy-teenage-girl blowouts one may have had the unfortunate time of seeing.  

It was a boiling hot day one weekend away in the dry bush.  I had set up the tent - arriving first because I managed to finish college early - and I decided that walking to the rock pools will provide the fuel to want to get there.  The thirst was suppose to get me going even faster to get hydrated but it only made me dehydrated.  And that is really the scientific way of saying you are going crazy.  Now that is something they don’t mention.  You hear how you will die without water but no one ever stresses how quickly one can go off their nutter just from the lack of a little sip sip sip.  

So, there I am hiking through a wilderness park, no shade in the arid area, no water close at hand, no map to keep me on the right track and alone.  Naturally I get lost because that is what one does when one is looking for a lone adventure.  And the 40 minute walk to the beautiful and natural rock pools turned into a walkabout some rocky terrain before eventually passing out.  

Now that is what I love about telling an insanity story.  The only version we have in this situation to get an idea of what exactly went down comes from the mouth of what is essentially a crazy person… so here is what I think happened.

I became disorientated from the heat and the lack of water.  Mix that in with epilepsy and a pack of baboons that start growling and what do we have?  One man down.  To me it felt like I stumbled and just turned around and walked back the way I came however as blood started dripping down my face and out of my legs I realized things might be a little bit more serious than I initially imagined because I cannot seem to remember where I was at that precise moment.  I had even cracked my ankle.  

The walk back was excruciating, lying down time and time again thinking that it would be easier to just lie there and die.

It took me the entire day to get back to the camp and the first thing I did was wash the blood off... drench my mouth in water then wash all the blood away.  Then I went to lie down. 

And that brings me back to the movie, it really showcased a mans will to survive and big ups to James Franco. He pulled it off.  The man keeps saying goodbye to the camera he has with him which shows how often he was willing to say goodbye before he was actually ready to give up… really.  And how time with friends and family means everything.  The latter should really be what we take home with us, to treasure our family and friends along with the moments, the phone calls, the laughter and the silly little messages.  In essence our loved ones are really what encapsulate our lives and treasuring moments with them is in actual fact just treasuring the life we live.

I Just Miss Him

So, the anniversary starts to creep up on me.  I thought that it would all feel different by the time I got here but my life just seemed to carry on.  The past few days have been really hard, spending the weekend with a friend crying on his shoulder about the fact that this week last year was the last time I spoke to my dad.  And I just miss the man so terribly much!

I still remember sitting next to his bed last year this time telling him that I could not stand to look at him in the sate that he was in.  Now, looking back, I feel like a total dick for saying that to him but honestly, at the time I thought that he would get better.  I believed he would pull out of it.  Unfortunately he did not and now there is no more time to sit next to the bed, talking about crap or just sitting in silence.  Now there is no more silly emails from my pops or a surprise deposit into my account to remind me he is thinking of me.  I miss the man so damn much.

So to every person who has ever lost someone to the cold kiss of death my sympathy goes out to you and with that same hand stretched out I tell you that you are not alone, so many of us in this world have lost someone so dear to us and we carry on, masking up the pain and the hurt, believing that time heals all wounds.  It really doesn't, time just keeps life rolling along and ones life just goes along with it but the hurt of longing to speak to someone you can never speak to again is everlasting.  So I just miss the man so terribly much.

Families, threesomes, love and a lie!

It was sunset and as the sky lit up with colours of soft pinks and bright oranges, shades of magenta with a splash of aquamarine I came to the top of a hill in a small park near the school in my neighborhood and sat down.  On the one side, the hill perched above the suburb like a huge roof patio; it allowed me to watch over its residence like a hawk.  The other side was a view of the city the suburb lives off of, the way a pilot fish lives off of a shark.  The suburb offers a family a safe haven for their children to grow up.  A place where people walk in the streets for leisure and where they greet each other even though they might not know each other.  A friendly happy place free of the grit, grime and hard work that makes a city work.

Families = building blocks of society… so what am I?

I don’t have a family.  I don’t intend on having a family… or should I rather say I don’t intend on having children, as I do come from a great loving family.  But as I look around at the parents playing gaily with their children I wonder how am I going to make up the love that a family has for each other without having a child?  Furthermore I start to wonder if a suburban life style is the style of life I should be trying to live up to?  I love the idea of a unit.  The family is a unit.  It’s a group and nothing can penetrate it.  In that impenetrable circle exists a few completely unique individuals with their own dreams and aspirations and view points, whereas the love I feel with someone I am in love with, is more of a sacrifice of ones own identity in hopes of forming a new identity, away from ‘you and me’ and make it into an “us”.

So does the answer lie in taking lovers?  Would two satisfy the hunger for a love bigger and greater than I ever would have imagined?  I have the capability to love more than one man.  Maybe the love I have is three different types of love.  There are three words for love in the koine Greek language, Eros, Philo and Agape.  “Eros” being love based on sexual contact and sometimes emotion. “Philo” is love at its most basic of trade offs; if you love me I will love you back. The third, “Agape”, is the most pure and real form of love, where we love expecting absolutely nothing in return. 

So what if I am Agape and I take two lovers, Philo and Eros, to satisfy all my needs?  Will they be able to satisfy each other?

 I have loved for sex and emotion, once the passion dries up or my emotions inevitably change, that love seems to dwindle.  It’s love that is based on that physical connection.  Even a small amount of time apart from each other, not holding each other, will allow that love to dissipate like smoke in a breeze. 

Loving you for loving me has no excitement to it, its safe.  This love feels so empty.  Its expiration date depends entirely on the love I would get in return.  I wont be treated special or spoilt.  It’s a one for one and tit for tat situation. 

Three lovers can only work if all three love Agape style.  People don’t love that way. Although, one night of erotic man love will definitely work if the three men in question are loving each other Eros style.

Families that work well love each other without expectations from each other.  This love is most prevalent in families than in relationships between lovers.  Is it impossible to find love from others that is not based on anything you may have to offer them?  And if people only love for love in return or sex or emotional support then why not write the whole idea of “love” off as another tool to barter with?  Then if that is the case, how can it be so wrong to use love as merchandise to get what you want?

Is it the love formed in a unit that causes so much ostracism for those not part of the unit?  What if someone grew up without the loving warmth of a closed circuit of people that watch each other’s backs, a person without a family?  Is there love in their life or are they destined to walk the earth without ever feeling the joy of loving another human being and being loved in return. 

It was that point I reached down beside me for the Micro-Uzi hidden underneath my coat.  Not one person even seemed to notice the creepy man in the large black trench coat standing on the top of the hill holding a machine gun swaying from side to side.  And I stood there for a few minutes to see how long it would take for someone to notice me.  And then someone did, a mother with a small child.  She screams out in shear horror and I begin to open fire, offloading bullets at the rate of over 1000 rounds per minute.  No one is safe from the machine gun wielding mad man that I have become.  Bullets flew through the air hitting so many unsuspecting victims.  Taking out all the mothers who ever ushered their children away from me when I was with my lover.  Taking out all the fathers who treat me like a pedophile just because I am gay.  Taking out every child that will inevitably be infected by the hypocrisy of the loving family unit.  I mean, do you know how many happily married men I have slept with in my life?

Ok, so now that I have your attention I can tell you I would never open fire on innocent families.  However what is your answer to the lie that is; a mother, a father and two children are a family and a unit, and that unit is the building block to any society?  What am I then… decoration?

We All Have Dads!

How did I get back to my home town, a place I vowed never to return to, a town that beat down every little naturally gay gesture to the point that I make conscious decisions about how I act in public, how my hands move, how soft my voice is yet with the same breath I am so thankful for the man I have become large part because I grew up in the small town of Springs, South Africa. Is it a mining town or a farmers town? Are we an English town or Afrikaans? We stand confused on a scarcely busy Nigel Road that is decked out with Palm trees from town to Northern Suburbs and wonder what is this place?



It was a boiling hot day in Cape Town when I got the call... "Juanne, your dad has stage four cancer". My mind went blank while trying to soak up the information that my dad has been showing symptoms of an illness for two years and only now they diagnose him with cancer... and just for anyone out there that knew as little as I did, Stage 4 is like really really bad. The cancer is in ones blood stream at this point and it is slowly spreading to the rest of the body.


So I packed my car and drove the 1400km back home. The chemo left my dad weak so I came home to help him run his business and just add some moral support. It was late Autumn so the garden was looking good still. We have this small court yard at the entrance of our home where my dad had actually built his own Koi pond from scratch. I decided to get my green fingers to work. My train of thought was if maybe I get stuff to grow around a feature in the garden that has life maybe it will just give my dad the extra mental boost he needs to want to live or at least fight to live.

It was a matter of days before I rushed him to the hospital and as he sat in the back seat extremely hesitant to get out of the car I caught a look in his eyes I have never seen before, of fear. He looked up at me as if he knew this is going to be the last time he gets out of this car. My heart cracked down the middle like frost splitting cold, hard rock in two. I had to encourage my dad to get out the car and go into the hospital when all I wanted to do was race him to the sea. Sit with him and watch the sunrise over the Indian ocean one last time.

A few days later I went into hospital. I was down playing a stomach ache when suddenly it dawned on me it could be my appendix and it could end potentially fatal if I don't have it removed. While I was being tortured in the Springs Parkland Hospital my dad slipped away...

I immediately wanted to leave the hospital that very morning and as I stepped outside I felt the freezing cold air burn my face. It was the night of the black frost. Everything died. Every plant around the pond was dead, life seemed to stop. I was surrounded with death, a black, bitter and icy death.

I told him as often as I could that I loved him, way before The Big C! I spent as much time as I could with him but no matter how you spent the past when the future is no more the pain is the same. It takes its toll not only on the person with cancer but everyone around that person. One thing, its a fighter and you HAVE TO FUCKING FIGHT BACK!