Persona Non Grata

By Luc Iver de Vil

Edgar Rice Burroughs, Ernest Hemingway and Henry Rider Haggard, authors that got a young boys heart pumping with excitement about adventures in Africa. Their books were part of my growing up, so when two friends and I got the invitation to be part of a group to establish a safari camp in the real Africa, we did not hesitate, did not make the inquiries we should have made, but signed up! This lead us deep into an African adventure, but not what we expected, we became outlaws!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luc Iver de Vil
• Release date: Sep 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310637209

Luc Iver de Vil

Apparently I was born in a mining village in the old Western Transvaal, South Africa, but my memory does not want to stretch that far back. My dad got into some kind of political trouble, so he moved his family to South West Africa, now Namibia. I had a great childhood in that country, which then was still wild and uncivilized, doing an incredible amount of travelling. Although I did attend school from time to time, most my education I received from my dad while in a Land Rover, or on foot, in the Namib desert or in the bush. When we eventually moved back to South Africa, never staying in the same place very long, I had to attend school full time, What a bore, and if I add up correctly, I actually attended 8 different schools in my life. My dad did settle down and became a farmer, and I was sent to university to further my education, after I did a stint in the SA Navy for my National Service, I quickly learned that to make it in society you have to "Yes and Amen" all those in authority appointed over you, like "cut your hair", "wear a tie and jacket" and "Go to Church". This awoke the family trait of rebelliousness in me, and I got expelled. I started working, first for an international company that built Power Stations, and then one that made and sold computers. This was not for me, so I obtained my Professional Hunting license, and I was off on living my life. Done many things since then, news reporting, construction, smuggling, and even ran a pub among other forms of employment. Went through one marriage, a number of engagements and a list of girlfriends. Have now settled down, farming, like my dad, happily married to a delightful Indian girl, have a beautiful daughter, enjoy writing down my memories and taking my family to the far-off places I had been.

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PERSONA NON GRATA

By

Luc Iver de Vil

The Hillbrow Election, 1987

By Luc Iver de Vil

Published by Luc Iver de Vil at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Luc Iver de Vil

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Authors note: All characters in this work of fiction are 18 years of age and older

To my wife, friend, partner, lover and supporter. My thanks to her for her dedicated assistance in getting my books published.

This book is also dedicated to those who were with me, Brian, Ray and Vic

Preface: Living your own dreams is great, but living someone else’s can be a disaster.

This is lesson some friends and I learnt the hard way when we found ourselves to be in a foreign country illegally.

PERSONA NON GRATA

I hated running the Huguenot Pub in Hillbrow! I was tired of having to bash drunkards over the head with a batten daily! Tired of the Scots that came to pick fights with anybody about anything and everything, even a soccer match Scotland lost to England seven years previously; the Irish, with their insatiable thirst, their bad singing and poor time keeping, having to throw them out at closing in the early hours every morning; the pompous English who could only be understood by themselves when they spoke; the unearned arrogance of the Germans; the gansterism of the Portuguese; the self-righteousness of the South Africans.

I was tired of smacking and booting the little Frenchman out three times every night when he started insulting all and sundry for being of inferior ancestry because they were not French, I was tired of this little arsehole not getting the message that he was not wanted in the pub!

I had enough of the motorcycle gangs that could only find their testosterone and manhood when operating in groups: the inebriated nurses that threw their bras and panties around whenever drunken hornyness overcame them. The knifings, broken furniture, glasses and bottles all had become too much for me to handle daily.

As a result my normal caution and cynicism had gone into hibernation when the big-mouthed Austrian started visiting the pub. He told everyone who would listen that he was one of the directors of a small South African company that was granted a 99 year leasehold of a large piece of land in