Now that I'm close to retiring, I have lots of time on my hands. My name is Sharon Van Hoevell and I'm a librarian living in the City of Johannesburg, South Africa. The crown jewel of R.S.A. I was born on November 9, 1957 and have lived in the region of Gauteng for most of my life. I have lived through some of the most interesting times in the history of the beautiful, promising and at times troubled Republic of South Africa.
As a young woman fresh out of university, I voted for President Nelson Mandela, the Father of Our Nation, and watched the end of Apartheid. When many whites living in the newly integrated Republic of South Africa started leaving the country following black liberation and the financial and social empowerment of communities of color, I decided to stay. I also watched the emergence of modern South Africa, a powerful nation unafraid to rise in the world and face the future. I am thankful for all that.
Yes, in my 57 years upon this Earth, I have seen much. I still believe in people, in spite of what I've been through. And I shall call South Africa my home until the day I die. Today, I live in Eden Vale, a quietly affluent sector of Johannesburg that's becoming fairly diverse. My neighbors are Zulus, Hindus and Chinese. They're middle-class folks, well-educated and upwardly mobile. While living in Eden Vale, I met someone whom I shall never forget until my shade descends in the underworld. A man who quite simply sets my world on fire.
Whom am I speaking of? William Njabulo, a tall, dark and handsome gentleman of the Zulu tribe. He's a civil engineering student at the University of Johannesburg, and often comes to the public library where I work in the evenings. Twenty three years old, brawny and sinfully sexy, William Njabulo could have been a male model or a star athlete if he wanted to, but the lad has a brain the size of Saturn.
William Njabulo is working on his Master's degree in civil engineering at the University of Johannesburg. He spent three years at Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, where he earned his bachelor's degree in engineering. The guy is fine-looking, well-traveled and well-spoken. I have not seen the likes of him before. Is it any wonder that I became utterly fascinated with the charming Zulu gentleman?
Before long, William and I were having regular meetings at a little café near the public library, and the more I learned about this exquisitely handsome and intelligent young black man, the more enthralled I became. I've always been fond of dark-skinned men. In fact, my former husband, Sahil Gagandeep, is originally from India. We have a 22-year-old daughter together, Richa, who's studying at the University of London in London, England. In the days when Sahil and I met, interracial relationships were frowned upon. We got married in Berkshire, England, a place we fell in love with while traveling during our university years.
My family disowned me for loving a dark-skinned Indian man, and I honestly don't care. I love who I love. In those early days, I loved Sahil Gagandeep very much. The fact that his skin was very dark never bothered me. I found my Indian husband beautiful, intelligent and charismatic. How come we're divorced? Oh, there's a story there but I won't burden you with it. Sahil and I split because he discovered a fondness for young men later in life, and I refuse to play wife for a gay husband. Just not my cup of tea, ladies and gentlemen.
All these things I shared with William Njabulo during those charming little coffee dates. The handsome Zulu stud told me quite a bit about himself. While studying civil engineering at Carleton University in the Canadian capital, William met a tall, lovely young Italian woman named Isabella Tartaglia. They began dating, and things got pretty serious but unfortunately, her family wasn't thrilled about her being with him. The two of them split shortly before William graduated from Carleton University, turned his back on Canada and returned to the Republic of South Africa.
William Njabulo had a very sad look on his handsome face as he told me about his painful breakup with Isabella, the gutless Italian wench. I listened attentively and gently laid my hand on William's hand as he shared his tale of woe with me. We were sitting inside Randy's Pub, one of my favorite little corner eateries and drinking establishments, and people were staring at us. It's a mostly white establishment with a few Africans and South Asians among the clientele. The sight of a, ahem, mature white woman and a young black man, sitting together, caused people to look at us awkwardly.
William picked up on that, took a look around and shook his head. I sighed as William muttered that some things in the supposedly integrated Republic of South Africa would never change. I looked at William and smiled, licking my lips suggestively. The Zulu stud didn't pick up on the major signals I threw his way. So I had to improvise. Taking William Njabulo's face in my hands, I looked into his startled eyes and planted a big wet kiss on his full, sensual lips.
