In 1986 I was 12 years old and there were only a few years left before the fall of the Berlin Wall and the demise of Apartheid. I was in Standard Five (or Seventh grade as it is called these days) and I was in a new school in Johannesburg having moved inland from Durban. I was struggling with the move and sorely missed the beautiful port city. My new school, Northcliff Primary, had arranged a day trip for the Standard Fives to the Pretoria Criminology Museum and all the kids were excited about the prospect of a day out of the classroom, on a bus, seeing new sights and having a picnic after the tour. It didn’t quite work out that way.
We arrived at the museum and were guided around a macabre display of violence and cruelty. There were photographs of gruesome murders, parts of mutilated animals in formaldehyde, torture devices we could play with, preserved human body parts, car wrecks and weapons. The highlight of the tour was a visit to the auditorium where we would watch a movie. All kids love movies and, although slightly more subdued than normal, we were chattering and carrying on as we took our seats.
What we saw next was absolutely horrifying particularly as it was unexpected. As the movie played the young audience grew quieter and quieter, girls started to cry softly and some were ill in the buckets provided between each second seat. The movie was about drugs, about drug abuse and offered real, birds eye view, footage of long haired types going through withdrawal in locked ablution areas. They were screaming as if possessed, pulling their hair out, ripping off their clothing, vomiting and defecating uncontrollably. Remember, this was a period in South African history when censorship was strictly enforced by the regime. You could not watch any programme on television which contained nudity or swearing or un-Godly behaviour. This educational movie did not have a Trainspotting soundtrack.
After the screening and as we left the auditorium, a large, smiling policeman handed suckers to the shocked children. “Soet wees, ne?” (“be good, OK?).
That day has had a profound effect on my life. During high school and ever since I have not been able to “recreate” like others do, choosing instead to cultivate a taste for beer which is, after all, legal. If someone had shown me a movie when I was 12 of drunks killing each other, of the result of drunken driving and of an alcoholics slow torturous demise, I probably would not have enjoyed beer either.
My initial perception of South America is what I have seen on TV and the media since I remember being aware. Guys like Pablo Escobar and the current situation in Mexico leads one to believe that South America is a wild, corrupt, drug fuelled mess, that every second everyone has an Uzi. That crime is endemic. Well, this has not been my experience. Granted I have only been to two South American cities but I am relieved and surprised how civil and relaxed these cities have been. The streets have been safe and not once has anyone done anything to threaten us or our belongings, except for a presumed dealer who took an interest in me at 6 AM under an utterly deserted highway overpass in La Boca, Buenos Aires.
Aside from the relaxed and peaceful nature of both the Argentine and Uruguayan people there has been one cultural phenomenon which has piqued my interest and that has been the indulgence and consumption of Yerba Mate, commonly known as Mate (pronounce mut-air). Initially I thought that Mate was the equivalent of the East African Khat and that everyone around me was slowly getting stoned. That is when my earlier indoctrination kicked in and I thought my original fears had been confirmed. That bus driver is getting stoned! That suit is getting stoned! That little old lady is getting stoned! Hang on a second…
To paraphrase the Mate brochure; “Mate is an infusion made by steeping yerba mate – the ground, dried leaves of the Llex Paraguariensis plant – in hot water. It’s origins date back to pre-Hispanic times and the Guarani indigenous culture. When the drinking of tea was taking hold in Europe in the 17th century the drinking of Mate began to spread in South America and especially in Uruguay”.
The invention of the flask did what the cell phone did for the telephone and made Mate mobile. These days the “Uruguayan pose” is a flask under the arm and a Mate in the hand. I asked a corporate type if Mate was healthy and he replied “of course, you are drinking water!”.
You will see people drinking Mate everywhere and it is not restricted to age or class but children do not partake. Groups of people will share Mate, it is taken to the beach, the office, the bedroom (I assume), pubs, clubs and church. There are street vendors who sell leather Mate and flask carriers and every supermarket has a range of Yerba to choose from.
Despite the re-assurance of many I have taken to studying these Mate drinkers closely – waiting for a sign of trouble. They all seem rather peaceful though, rather content, and seem to be going about their business civilly.
Soet wees. Ne.
Featured photo by Timothy Ditzman
