I walked towards the windblown dump site. It was Friday and, strangely, there were no scavengers on the dump. I wandered around among the huge mounds of rubbish now mostly covered by sand. Lost in thought, I searched the dump, found a book with some pages missing, and discarded it. The southeaster picked up, sweeping dust across the landscape. I heard a dog growl, looked up and saw the stick-like silhouette of Ballie on the skyline. My heart jumped into my throat as the dogs growled again.
"Ek soek vir boeke, Mr Ballie," I shouted at him. (I'm looking for books.) Ballie kept staring at me and I was overwhelmed by a sudden fear. He wet his fingers with his tongue, held his hand in the air, and said, "Djy moetie so ver kom nie, Johnnie, die suidooster is 'n vreeslike wind. Djy val en djy skree, maa niemand kan jou hoor nie." (You shouldn't come this far, Johnnie, the southeaster is a terrible wind. You fall and you scream but nobody can hear you.)Your own fault
I was gripped by fear and started to run up the mound of refuse, but the harder I ran, the deeper my feet sank into the rubbish. Then Ballie set his dogs on me and they came charging up the hill towards me. The lead dog caught up with me and brought me down, licking at my face as if it was a game. I heard Ballie breathing hard above me ... I screamed. He clamped his big dirty hand over my mouth, muffling my scream. With his other hand he ripped off my shorts and pushed his penis into my butt. He groaned as he pumped into me with vigour.
"Soe djy wil 'n skrywer wies?" he grunted. "Ek sal jou wys!" (So you want to be a writer? I'll show you!)
I lost all sense of time. He eventually got up, zipped up his pants and muttered, "Die's jou eie fokken skuld ... en as djy iets sê van die, lat ek die honne jou opvriet!" (It's your own fucking fault ... and if you say anything about this, I'll feed you to my dogs!) He moved off with his dogs in tow. I just lay there with my face in the dirt.
When I got home Mom wasn't there so I headed straight to the bathroom and scrubbed myself vigorously, washed my shorts and hung them out to dry. Dad came home from work half drunk and penniless ... He splayed himself across the couch and almost immediately began to snore.
I looked at my sisters and was overwhelmed by a feeling of hopelessness. I had a few coins in my pocket so I gave my sister Francis a tickey to buy a packet of broken biscuits at the nearby shop.Later Mom arrived home with a parcel of fish and chips as Dad was waking up. He screamed at her, "Djy's laat! Waa was djy gewies!?" (You're late! Where were you!?) I cringed. Mom put some fish and chips on a plate and put it on the table in front of him. He swiped the plate onto the floor in one vicious move, snarling, "Moenie vi my kak gie nie!" (Don't give me shit!)
Mom grabbed her bag of knitting and a blanket, and we escaped through the back door. We sat on the back stoep under the blanket and I decided to tell Mom that Ballie had raped me. She was crying softly, the tears streaming down her face, and I did not know where to begin.
"Ma, iets het gebeur op die tip vandag," I stuttered. "Mr Ballie ... (Mom, something happened on the dump today. Mr Ballie ...)Mom gave me a wan smile. "Mr Ballie is 'n goeie man, Johnnie, net baie eensaam nadat sy vrou afgesterf het." (Mr Ballie is a good man, Johnnie, just very lonesome after his wife died.)
A sob caught in my throat and for a moment we were in total darkness as a small cloud covered the moon.
I went inside, took a big knife from the kitchen drawer and came back outside. I stood next to Mom for a while, trying to hide my tears.
"Hoekom is jy so rusteloos, Johnnie?" she asked. "Kom sit." (Why are you so restless, Johnnie? Come and sit down.)
"Ek gan kyk gou vir hout om 'n vuurtjie te maak, Ma," I replied. "Ek's nou terug." (I'm going to find some wood to start a fire, Mom. I'll be right back.)
I slipped out the gate and stuck to the shadows as I made my way to Ballie's house. I took up a position behind a wall opposite his house. I watched his house, sharpening the knife against the brick wall as Ballie's dogs howled at the moon. I trembled when he appeared in the doorway, looking weird with a nightcap on his head. He strode outside his gate, looked up and down the street, and I scooted out of there. I was scared silly. From that day onwards, I had recurring nightmares of being raped by Ballie ...
Apache Kids
More local boys had joined our group. There were two dark-skinned brothers named Solly and Chip, and Robbie, a loose-lipped boy who was a habitual liar. The three of them were into housebreaking. They dressed nicely and always had money to throw around.
Sydney "Tanne" Nicolson was a brash, handsome sixteen-year-old with sparkling white teeth and a devil-may-care attitude. He operated with the Apache Kids in Athlone's Main Road. He was on the run from the law for robbery and hung out with us. The local wannabe gangsters feared him and he was sort of our protector. He was quick with a knife and he was also a dog whisperer. He could entice any ferocious dog to eat out of the palm of his hand ...
Robbie told us that he had passed a house where he could have scored big time, except that the people had a big black German shepherd in their bathroom.
Tanne was all ears ... Robbie gave him the directions and Tanne turned to me. "Kom, Johnnie, gan saam met my!" (Come, Johnnie, come with me!)I really did not want to go but I couldn't show my fear so I went with Tanne. The house was in darkness when we got there. We jumped over the fence and sidled towards the house, keeping in the shadows as we approached the slightly open bathroom window. A dog growled softly.
Tanne indicated for me to stay back and whispered to the dog, "Ringo ... Ringo ... come boy ...". Ringo came and stuck his head out the window and Tanne rubbed his head, whispering sweet nothings into his ears. Ringo jumped through the window into Tanne's arms. It was uncanny. I asked him how he knew the dog's name was Ringo. Tanne grinned at me. "Al die honne wat ek steel se name is Ringo." (All the dogs I steal I name Ringo.) He chuckled some more and asked me for my belt. I handed it to him and he looped it around Ringo's head. He told me I could have the dog. I didn't want it, but I felt empowered by the fact that Tanne trusted me.Vindication
The guys were amazed when we arrived at our corner with Ringo in tow. They were excited and Robbie exclaimed, "Nei, julle is kwaai ouens." (No, you guys are good.) I basked in their admiration. Later, after we split up, I was left standing with the dog that I did not want ...
I hit on an idea and set off for Ballie's house. I hung out across the road. Ballie was feeding his dogs - I could hear them growling viciously in a feeding frenzy. Ringo was hungry and his ears were like antennas, as he could hear them too. I picked up a stone and threw it onto Ballie's roof. Ballie's dogs stopped growling and howled. The back gate opened slightly and Ballie appeared, peering around.
I let Ringo go and he bounded over the distance like a bullet from a gun. He ran head first into the gate as Ballie tried to close it. He rebounded and dashed inside the yard, knocking into Ballie, who stumbled and fell. Ringo attacked the three ridgebacks. The dogs growled horribly as they fought and Ballie had no idea where Ringo came from.
The next evening, I overheard Dad telling Mom that two of Ballie's dogs had been seriously wounded in a fight and had to be put down. "Fooitog," said Mom. (Shame.) I felt vindicated ...
Point-blank
Early one Saturday night we were hanging on our corner when Tanne suggested, "Ko os gan Road toe." (Let's go to the Road.) The main street in Athlone was called "the Road". I knew Tanne was wanted by the cops and that he was tempting fate, but he had a long panga pushed down his trousers.
The Road was crawling with people as we weaved through the crowds to get to our destination. A police car pulled up next to the kerb and a white cop got out, gun in hand, which he pointed at Tanne. "Nicolson! Staan vas!" (Hold it!) We stopped, but Tanne was having none of that. "Fokkof!" he said and took off, weaving between the pedestrians.
The cop went after him, shouting, "Nicolson, stop!" Tanne turned, whipped out his panga and attacked the cop, slashing him across the head. The cop pressed his gun against Tanne's heart and shot him at point-blank range. Tanne dropped dead ...
At the graveyard, several gang members arrived, including the Apache Kids. The leader, Apache, a stout light-skinned dude with a thick plait of black hair hanging down his back, walked right up to the coffin with five other gang members. All of them were dressed in black chalkstripe suits and black Stetson hats. The mourners murmured as they gathered around the coffin with the wreath on top.
Silence fell as the leader plucked a flower from the wreath and said, "Os iet 'n blommetjie by sy graf." (We eat a flower at his grave.) His followers followed suit, taking a flower each, putting it into their mouths and eating it. Then they turned and walked away, towards a big black car parked in a lane. They got in and the car kicked up dust as they drove off at speed.
The writer's story
John W Fredericks, 71, grew up in Kewtown, a sub-economic housing development near Athlone, Cape Town. His father was a refuse collector and his mother worked in an abattoir. As a child, Fredericks read books he found on the rubbish dump. As a teenager, he survived Pollsmoor prison by telling stories, and later found redemption by helping juvenile offenders. He wrote the script for the film Noem My Skollie, which was South Africa’s entry for the 2016 foreign-language Academy Award.
Skollie is Fredericks’s expanded autobiography, in which characters from his past fill the pages with vibrant charm and terrifying malevolence.
In the extracts on this page Fredericks relives the trauma that occurred when he was nine years old, then tells of continued exposure to violence as an adolescent.Hear author talk
At the launch of Skollie, the book, Cape Town's Artscape theatre will screen the film Noem My Skollie with a live orchestral score led by composer Kyle Shepherd, followed by a conversation between actress Jill Levenberg and writer John W Fredericks. Sunday September 17 at 3pm. Tickets R150 from Computicket or at the door.
Power to change lives
After Noem My Skollie was shown to gang members in Paarl, Fredericks got a call. A mother said that after seeing the movie her son had told her: 'Mom, I'm done with gang life, I want to change.' The boy made good: he is studying to be a barber. Seventeen of his fellow gang members are enrolled in a rehabilitation programme at Drakenstein prison, doing community work...