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I love black people. In fact, some of my closest friends are black and as we are in the New South Africa my wife as a matter of fact is a local, born and bred in Sebokeng.
Through their bright cultural inheritance a lot can indeed be learned about our country and her diversely scattered people.
From the traditional Zulu dances to an old-fashioned brewing of a foul tasting to some, yet potently brewed cultural beer, it is clear that the black African’s rich cultural history spans back many years.
It was with these traditional niceties in mind that I was also forced into considering another cultural distinction with regards to the female population of African ethnicity.
This peculiarity pertains to body hairs - hidden in all nooks and crannies traditionally considered a characteristic of the male anatomy only.
As part of the male anatomy I think this has something to do with a perceived conviction of manhood and a show of masculinity - unless of course you’re a hairy stalwart Caucasian girl from Brakpan that is.
My missus on the other hand treats herself well – totally clean shaven (EVERYWHERE) – even atop her head.
But for the sake of this article and in retrospect to South Africa of old, let’s use May 1994 as a point of entry to interracial love - consider for a moment if you will, Piet de Waal falling in love with Precious Sithole – yes gone are the days when Mr HF Verwoerd would have had Mr de Waal castrated for being a heathen in his choice of partner and also investing into someone to the likes of an apartheid scientist to take care of Jan’s Precious.
Yes gone are those days as Jan’s grand mama picks a teardrop as the words to the Mary Hopkin song echoes through her home on the farmstead – “those were the days my friend, we thought they’d never end…”
Anyway, before this article takes a turn towards the indignities of the past, let’s return to Precious and her hair – Now if I was Piet de Waal was anything like myself, being this passionate lover in word and in deed, I’d dive right into Precious’s precious arm pits as a fore-runner to the love to come.
Certainly some gals appreciate and do indeed heave wildly at having their axillae tickled. I will dive blindly though, and not expecting or even considering an abundance of hidden fluff within that alluring oxter could cause issues of epidemic proportions.
This article is in no way intended as an insult towards African gals and should not be taken as such. I merely have serious concerns in dire need of an answer. Why the hair girls? After all, the armpit foreplay I’ve mention is not with the intention of climaxing into sweet love with a pôpô, but with a warm blooded African girl.
Although a well-kept wealth of hair could indeed be a cultural pleasantry it could undoubtedly also lead to an untimely demise of one’s sexual hankering should a mouthful of these end up between one’s teeth and possibly finding its way towards the tummy.
Excessive bodily hairs could also turn out being a common attraction for the pediculus humanus corporis, so my question remains; why the hair girls?
*** Although proudly South African, Piet de Waal is a fictional name used for the sake of this writing and should not be taken literally if indeed a Piet de Waal trots upon this page. So is my Precious. All fictional even - the apartheid scientist ***
