My friend, those were heady days. One weekend in particular stands out. It was March, in 1996 …

It’s 9.30am when I touch down at HF Verwoerd Airport. The weather forecast has predicted a beautiful, sunny day, with a light westerly wind. The day is pregnant with possibility as I haul my suitcase off the carousel in the Arrivals terminal. I feel light. I have made it in life.

I am in Port Elizabeth to attend the very first policy conference of the South African Technikon Students’ Union (SATSU). In October last year I was elected president of the Natal Technikon’s SRC. I am running on high political octane!

I walk through the sliding doors and see a woman holding up a sign with my name written in bold: ‘WILFRED MLOTSHWA, Avis Car Rental.’ I give my trademark low-key smile, but my heart wants to break out and fly.

My beeper signals that I have a message; remember this is 1996. Cell phones are in vogue, yes, but only for the ‘aristocrats’ of the revolution. I ignore it so that I can get better acquainted with the Avis Car Rental lady. She looks splendid in her red uniform.

I approach her and make eye contact. She replies in kind and adds a dazzling smile that reveals a gold tooth. Her red lipstick complements her red uniform. She has a light complexion and a delicate oval face. She wears her hair in a braided bob. I return her smile with a deliberately weak one to conceal my wobbly knees. Beautiful women tend to have this kind of effect on me.

“Molo bhuti. Nguwe-u Wilfred Mlotshwa” she asks.

I fluff my lines because I am suddenly engrossed in the beauty of her melodic voice. I find isiXhosa sexy, more so if spoken by a beautiful woman. Before I can answer, I have already stolen glances at her anatomy. She is a fine woman indeed: flat tummy and long beautiful legs.

“Eeh, aah, yes, my lady. I am Wilfred. Thanks for coming all the way to welcome me. I am truly blessed.”

She looks sideways for a moment to avoid my gaze, and I spot a cute little dimple in her left cheek. I am smitten.

“Your car and driver are ready sir,” she informs me.

I sit luxuriating in the back seat as the driver negotiates the meandering roads in the mid-morning traffic of the city. He then heads straight to Port Elizabeth Technikon. In less than an hour from touching down I have begun to experience why they call PE ‘the friendly city’ as well as ‘the windy city’.

At the Technikon I get out of the taxi, my mind racing. I need to connect with my comrades from Mangosuthu Technikon in Durban. These are my homeboys. If we are to going to paint Port Elizabeth town red, I need all the backup I can get.

***

Tell us: At this point is Wilfred more interested in the business of the conference, or the ‘fun on the side’?