Had I not been interviewed by Henry Trotter while gathering material for his next book – about parliament and politicians, which is my beat – I have to confess that I would probably not have read his book that’s been in the bookshops for some months.
As a child – OK; grandchild – of the Victorian era, just being seen with a book titled Sugar Girls & Seaman: A journey into the World of Dockside Prostitution is a bit embarrassing. As for actually reading it – why, people of my upbringing would rather not know too much about some of the undercurrents of society.
When we met at my favourite coffee shop, Bread, Milk & Honey – just near parliament – it transpired that Trotter was looking to glean insights from me into the parliamentary process – and the role that sex and gender might play in it. Apparently he’s doing a follow-on to his book about dockside hookers “sugar girls” as he calls them – which will look at the conduct of sex in various sectors.
Trotter thought I could somehow be of assistance, given my many years in the parliamentary press gallery. I pointed out that, in view of my background – an overbearing Victorian grandmother played a particularly prominent role in my upbringing – I was hardly someone to be tapped for knowledge of the bonking activities of politicians and state officials. (A colleague is known to regale the pub with an account of how I once defiantly declared: “Anglicans don’t bonk!”, reinforcing my terribly righteous Anglo-Catholic cum – lower-case – protestant roots.)
… all you don’t necessarily need to know about the illicit sex lives of various senior politicians
Actually, as I pointed out to Trotter, in South Africa, we of the press are rather cautious about writing about involvements – even non-Anglican ones — that politicians might have between the silken sheets. As far as I was concerned, all that cabinet ministers during National Party rule got away with was murder. True, sleazy stories of infidelity abounded about presidents and ministers – all male in those days – who had strings of girlfriends (and a boyfriend or two). But I don’t believe these were ever given serious attention in the press. I did know that an NP leader had his party secretary-general shifted off the political stage for having an extra-marital affair – while he was himself engaged in the same activity.
May noseweek readers be the first to know: it shouldn’t be long beforeTrotter’s next book appears – containing all you don’t necessarily need to know about the illicit sex lives of various senior parliamentary officials and politicians, across the gender divide. The relationship between a top government official and a (female) minister, now demoted, could get a mention. One waits with bated breath.
When Trotter left, our interview concluded, I sneaked off to a discreet corner of the bookshop to read my complimentary copy of Sugar Girls & Seamen. I found it entertainingly written and well researched. Trotter had explained that his dad had been an officer in the US Navy, which took him to various military stations around the world. It gave Henry a taste for the Atlantic and the “activities” at ports. Trotter took the trouble of learning Afrikaans, the main language of the sugar girls. I believe this has given him a special insight into the story of dockside prostitution in Cape Town and Durban.
Like politics, sex and prostitution are about power and money. So, unsurprisingly, a chapter is devoted to extortionists (a category of people now increasingly prominent in politics). Trotter tells the story of Brandy, a Cape Town sugar girl who ends up married to a Japanese sailor and living in Japan. She comes home after being abused by her husband and, with the help of a local lawyer, seeks a divorce. But, soon enough, the lawyer demands to be included in a sex ring. Shortly afterwards two policemen knock at her door and threaten to arrest her for selling sexual favours. They make her an offer: she could avoid arrest by paying them R500 a week and occasionally arranging orgies for them and the lawyer.
For now, until Trotter’s new work is in the bookshops, I will return to my world of Anglican purity and virtue.
Review by Virginia Philip. Taken from the August 2009 edition of Noseweek.
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