Jupiter sits on a crate at the corner of Camps Bay Drive and Victoria, a hair to the left of Pick n' Pay’s front entrance. He carries a cane that conforms to his upper arm, walks with a limp on his right side. His clothes dangle over a hungry but distantly famished dark, dark skinned body. The first time we made eye contact, he stuck out his tongue and blew spit through rickety teeth and a warming, gapped smile. If I didn’t instantly think he was insane, the deal was sealed as I crossed the street…chased by his rabid howls.
Our following encounters were brief. At times I would pass, notice his distant stare into an ocean view too perfect to be uncalculated. To me, though, he gave nothing. No spit, wink, howl...not even a grin. He never looked up. What had I done? I thought back...maybe he had initially offered something that my coldness rejected. Or, perhaps Ockham deserved his due – my credit was escaping too freely.
Days later, I was picking up laundry when a racket caught my attention. It was Jupiter. He was standing and yelling, jabbing and thrusting his cane into the air. Something had agitated his cool. No, someone. Jupiter was in a justified hot boil. I realized, quickly…he was defending the only kingdom he knew – Camps Bay and Victoria. He and a remoresless Invader began their dance. Jupiter would chase off Invader, who would retreat and stop when Jupiter turned his back. Once privy, Jupiter would give chase up our steep hill. It went on for a few rounds, this mid-day disruption at the corner of paradise in Southern Africa. Eventually, Invader left the scene in a slow and mocking retreat. After witnessing first hand, a Camps Bay street corner political struggle, I couldn’t help but cross the street and lap the victor. He had already settled back into his crate as I was passing. When he didn’t initially look up, I stopped, motioned an unsympathetic hand in the direction of the man he had chased off. He raised his glare and was at first, taken back by my attention. His arms flew tirade as he began to spit and howl in a dialect that wasn’t Afrikaans or English. It was Jupiter, and I got it right away…
Now into his 70’s, Jupiter has been on the corner of Camps Bay and Victoria for a long, long time. It’s his post. Every now and then, as I had witnessed (apologetically by Jupiter), some young punk tries to waltz in on his rightful property. They wander into the beauty of Camps Bay; think they can strong arm a “crazy old man” out of his prime, prime beachfront stomps. He said it’s a generational thing. The kids have no respect for anything (one of his major concerns for our aging world, by the way). He confessed to doing it many times in the past, reluctantly foresaw having to do it many more times in the future…that is, until he no longer has one.
As he began to shift the crate, I knew he was moving away from the glory of his late adventure. He smiled, welcomed me to Camps Bay. I smiled, thought twice…stuck out my tongue, blew spit like a child. He slapped his knee, burst into laughter so violently careless, it melted my remaining guard. His face grew squinty before dishing a timid thumbs up (half tucked behind a coiled pointer finger). Crossing the street, I found myself graced again by his now comforting – homey neighborhood howls.
I go into Jupiter’s Pick n' Pay almost every day, come out with 5 Rand, sometimes 10. Though it’s not much, it’s always for him. He never asked, not even in Jupiter. After his acceptance, I get a thumbs up, a squinty smile, a howling accompaniment every time I cross the street. Every time I say goodbye, I stick out my tongue, blow spit in his vicinity. Often, he returns the favor. Yesterday, I came out with 5 Rand, handed it to him with tongue fully stretched. He pulled my hand with surprising strength, kissed it, held it to his head. It took me by surprise. Something had changed…something between us. Real or invented, it was a connection I’ll not soon forget.
Crossing the silent street, my mind drew a line to the moment I passed him on that coastline run. I don’t know what it was exactly, seeing him so far out of town…sitting out on the rocks, looking out onto the mighty ocean. He was alone, maybe. Or maybe, simply, he just looked so peaceful I wanted to stop and talk forever until the sun settled and he left to return to the star that calls him citizen.
Maybe he would tell me everything - a world in his words, in Jupiter. Maybe he would take me there, away…show me.
