Free Dragons & Butterflies: Sentenced to Die, Choosing to Live by Shani Krebs

she was having an epileptic fit. Panic-stricken, and not at all sure what to do, I stroked her long hair and did my best to soothe her, saying, ‘It’s okay, it’s okay’ over and over again.
    This was a total freak-out, I thought. I mean, what if she died? How on earth was I going to explain myself? After a lot of stroking and reassuring, to my relief Lisa came round and seemed to have no recollection of anything unusual happening.
    When I asked if she was okay, she appeared baffled by my question and insisted she was fine. By now it was late and I suggested we should get going, so we dressed hurriedly and made our way back to the main building. There we kissed again before going our separate ways.
    In retrospect, losing my virginity was an extraordinary experience, even though it might not have carried the hallmark of true love. The spontaneous and exciting manner in which it happened makes it one of my most memorable sexual encounters. Just for the record, and to my embarrassment, later in life I discovered that what I thought were symptoms of epilepsy was just Lisa having an orgasm. As I said, my sex education was sketchy, to say the least.

    Me and my friends at the Arc, all about 16 years old, entered a phase of night excursions. This added an element of danger to our normal adventures. Such outings comprised, among other things, ‘borrowing’ parked cars or anything with wheels, and housebreaking, which isn’t altogether an appropriate description for what we did. It was more like trespassing, the challenge being to get in and out of buildings undetected; we never intended to steal anything. If we were caught, escape was imperative, and this was the ultimate adrenaline rush. It was all part of the game. Getting caught meant also a loss of face in front of the other boys.
    On countless occasions we were chased by security guards, landlords, gardeners, the police and even milkmen, and as a result we became great athletes. At school, we Arcs always took first, second or third place in the cross-country races, which was a source of surprise to our other friends, who never saw us at training and couldn’t fathom why the boys from Arcadia were always such formidable opponents.
    Friday nights were bunking-out nights. By age 16, watching The Brady Bunch had lost its thrill for us. We were looking for something a bit more exciting. One night we unanimously decided to explore the buildings of the Johannesburg General Hospital, which was still under construction, as well as the area nearby, which happened also to be the location of a girls’ boarding school, Roedean. The area itself was charming, with botanical gardens known as The Wilds bordering the school’s property. This enhanced its splendour and tranquillity during the daytime, but at night it looked more like the setting for a horror movie. I recall at around that time a man’s mutilated body was found in The Wilds, and a few incidents of rape had also taken place there. Crime was on the increase, and even usually quiet Killarney had become notorious as a playground for unsavoury characters. As a result, the police patrolled the area constantly.
    And so, with the increased element of risk, when we went on our Friday night adventures – or night raids, as we called them – as a preventive measure we were now compelled to carry weapons. These took the form of batons, nunchakus and knives, and sometimes even baseball bats. We were resourceful and were renowned for our courage and determination. Our motto was ‘Do or Die.’ Little did I know then the impact and influence our comradeship was already having on my character.
    On this particular Friday night, we were more in number than usual. It had been decided that certain junior boys would be allowed to join in the expedition as part of their initiation into manhood. Bar Mitzvahs were a spiritual thing and were for ‘bagels’; survival in a precarious situation was the real test. Straight after dinner, our