Landing in the deep end made me relate to Navy hopefuls

When the powers that be suggested that I take a dip for a first-hand experience of the SA Navy’s recruitment drive in Mpumalanga it sounded like fun – until I jumped into the Olympic-size swimmingpool in Mbombela. The last time I swam was as a 14-year-old in 1990 in a quarry where I grew up in Kwaggafontein in theformer KwaNdebele homeland. Suburban pool I only saw a swimming pool when I visited my mother where she worked as a domestic workerin Pretoria. I’d watch through the window of her quarters as the children of her white employers and friends swam….

When the powers that be suggested that I take a dip for a first-hand experience of the SA Navy’s recruitment drive in Mpumalanga it sounded like fun – until I jumped into the Olympic-size swimming
pool in Mbombela.

The last time I swam was as a 14-year-old in 1990 in a quarry where I grew up in Kwaggafontein in the
former KwaNdebele homeland.

Suburban pool

I only saw a swimming pool when I visited my mother where she worked as a domestic worker
in Pretoria.

I’d watch through the window of her quarters as the children of her white employers and friends swam.

They had proper swimming attire – Speedos, goggles, swimming caps, snorkels and even pool toys.

They played volleyball in the pool, something we from the predominantly black rural areas could only dream of.

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They also did not swim like we did in my village, slapping and kicking the water so hard that all
you saw were splashes

Their swimming was more structured and appeared to be effortless. Also, because the water was a clear blue, you could actually see the swimmer.

Rivers and quarries

Back home in my village quarry with its brown, bilharzia-infested water, I would mimic what I’d seen in Pretoria to the amusement of my friends who I herded cattle with after school.

I’d also bring the swimming material I had salvaged in Pretoria, attracting much attention as we without TV only saw these in newspapers and magazines.

But even in those dams, rivers and quarries, there were impressive swimmers among us. However, I was in a beginner swimmer, enough to save your life, category

But because drownings were common in local rivers and quarries, swimming was taboo and breaking that rule came with a beating.

So all precautions had to be taken to ensure we weren’t caught. It was tricky; you returned with your skin unusually dry, a sign that you’d been swimming.

So we would take Vaseline to apply after swimming, but this would also be a sign that we’d been swimming.

Dreams dashed

It was only because there were no pools for swimming to be taught as a life skill that we stood no chance when it was a necessary requirement.

So I could not help but relate to the frustrations of the young people whose dreams were dashed because they could not swim, lacked practice and were unfit.

I am now nursing bruises on my left elbow and right toes, injuries I sustained hysterically trying to escape the swimming pool’s merciless onslaught.

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