It was the Saturday of the Easter long weekend back in 1966. I had no idea that it was the day that would change the rest of my life. It was a mild day for autumn when I set out on a long walk to visit my best friend at that time, Kate.
I was living with my uncle, aunt and young cousin in a very new suburb, to the south of Johannesburg. I had my own room, a job, and was exhilarating in my new found freedom. I was twenty one years old and mistress of my future. I was invincible, unstoppable; the world was my oyster!
My ‘trek’ to Kate’s place would be a long one, but as I didn’t have transport, “Shank’s pony” was my only alternative. Setting off wearing a sensible pair of shoes and knee length bobby socks, above which I wore a short ‘kilt’ of green tartan and a jumper; my chestnut hair fell unbound to my waist. From behind, I must have looked something like a schoolgirl.
I was amused by the wolf-whistles I drew from passing motorists, mostly young guys, out joy-riding. A few stopped to ask where I was going and to offer me a lift. I was wise enough to turn down these offers with a smile. I was in no hurry to step into a stranger’s car.
At one point, a big car cruised by very slowly. I turned my head slightly to catch a glimpse of who was scrutinising me so closely. To my surprise, I saw that it was a squad-car with two young policemen in the front seat. A shiver ran through my body – in hind-sight, I know it wasn’t fear. A touch of apprehension, or was it something else?
After giving me a ‘once-over’, the Chevy pulled ahead and made a U-turn. I immediately dismissed it from my mind, thinking that the cops may have been looking for a run-away or a missing person. A minute later, here was the squad-car, driving right along side of me again. I glanced across at the cop leaning out of the passenger window, thinking to myself that he was awfully cute. I smiled to myself, thinking, “Hmm, he may be a cop, but underneath he is a man, just like all the others”. Mistake! He thought I was smiling at HIM! He called out to me, asking where I was going. I had had enough of this for one day so decided to play a game. I answered in Portuguese, “Eu nao falo Ingles!” Well, with that, the cop said something to his driver. The car shot forward a few paces, and then pulled over to the shoulder of the road. The passenger door opened, and the cute cop stepped out. Hmm, he did look good in his grey uniform, with all those shiny brass buttons.
The scene that followed was absolutely hilarious! Here was this cop, trying his utmost to communicate with me, with words and eventually with hand gestures. I kept answering, “Nao falo Ingles! Vou fala Portuguese? “very convincingly. Eventually, I couldn’t keep a straight face any longer. With a whoop of laughter, I managed to say, “Sucker!” The look on his face was priceless! I started speaking in English, and we both had a good laugh - the ice was broken.
We chatted for a few minutes. This time, when he asked where I was going, I answered him truthfully. He said that was still a far way to go and offered me a ride. Well, I did think twice, but accepted the offer. What could go wrong with TWO policemen in the car?
During the ride, my ‘escort’ asked me my name. I gave him a false name, which he wrote in a note book. He looked up at me as he wrote, and most probably guessed from my expression that it wasn’t my real name. He asked again, this time I gave him another false name, which he dutifully wrote down. In the next minute or two, I gave him a succession of names, but between them all was my true name. The same thing happened when he asked me for my address, all of which he wrote down. I must have completely confused the poor guy.
Before we reached our destination, the police radio crackled into life. A call came through with a complaint of domestic violence. A call of duty that could not be ignored! They dropped me off at a road-house. With many apologies and a plea to wait where I was, they sped off in the direction from which we had come.
I hung around for a while, but the sun was dipping in the sky. I didn’t want to be caught walking that last bit to Kate’s place at dusk, as I didn’t know it so well and didn’t know how well it was lit. I made my way to Kate’s home, reaching there just as darkness rushed down to meet me. My friend was overjoyed to see me and listened to my ‘adventure’ over dinner. We both sighed over the thought that I would never see my cute cop again.
Later that night, Kate’s Dad drove me home. I was greeted at the door by a frantic Uncle. The first words out of his mouth were, “Are you okay? Do you know the police have been here looking for you?” I suppose the surprise on my face showed him that I had no clue as to what had happened. It dawned on me that my cute cop had done some sleuthing of his own. To my Uncle’s chagrin, I burst out laughing. It took me a while to placate my Uncle, but after he heard my story, he was still slightly annoyed, but satisfied. I still got a good telling off though! What was he supposed to think when police come knocking at the door, asking for me?
Well, I certainly did see my cute cop again. Three months later, we became engaged; exactly nine months later, we were wed. The rest, as they say, is history.
