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Becoming a philosopher 32
I had a conversation with Sven about the Nifty stories. I felt that they were too predictable and boring. We spoke about life and how the stories reflected the mundaneness of life. Sven said that if we introduce a murder or other drama then they could become murder mysteries.
Sven suggested that the stories could also take on another dimension if the sex was kinkier. I laughed and proposed that we introduce new fetishes, but Sven thought that the pedestrian nature of our story worked. I'm glad we had a consistent following and I enjoy getting letters, every so often, comments on the characters and their activities. I know that there was fan mail raving about Ariel from Yeshiva Boy. He empathised with a lot of the angst that he was going through.
I wanted to end the Becoming a Philosopher series sooner, but I decided to do this last Lesotho trip. I had travelled with Sven to help him with PhD fieldwork. The trip to Lesotho had made a significant mark on Sven's psyche and he spoke about it often, and Nicolas had always said that he wanted to go to Lesotho.
Sven, Nicolas, Martin, and I found ourselves in a fully packed Suzuki four-by-four vehicle. We were approaching Lesotho from the South and crossed the border near Quthing and made our way to the campsite on the map, which was a little out of the town. It was getting dark, and I struggled to find the place, I stopped at one point to ask for directions. Nicolas was asleep on the back seat with his head against Sven.
As I pulled off, now confident to find the campsite, the heavens broke loose and it poured with rain. It came down so hard that I had to pull over. Water streamed down the road and the noise inside the car was deafening. Nicolas was awake and asked how far it was to the campsite. I told him that we were close and that we had to sit out the downpour before continuing. Sven opened a packet of crisps and offered them around, and Martin cracked open a can of beer to wash the chips down. The rain only let up after about forty minutes. By then the car windows were completely misted up and Nicolas was even more restless.
I turned the ignition key and the car spluttered back to life. The headlights had lost their effectiveness in the rain and the pitch-black darkness. We were only metres away from the entrance and we were greeted by a friendly guard. Unfortunately, one of the rondavels we were assigned had bad leaks and was soaked, and we had to be satisfied with a perfectly dry, warm rondavel to share with two single beds in it. The bathroom was in a separate building outside.
We brought in our groceries for supper and some of our baggage. There wasn't much space and we had to make the best of what we had. Martin and I prepared cheese rolls for supper, while Sven boiled water for hot drinks. We sat on one of the beds eating our supper and Martin commented on the five-star ambiance. Nicolas was in a sulky mood and said very little. Sven commented that we were lucky to find this place, particularly in the intense storm we had just experienced.
After tidying up we decided to move the beds together in an attempt to better accommodate us. Sven and Nicolas took their towels to the bathroom but returned within minutes as the water was too cold and this didn't exactly help Nicolas' mood.
Martin and I set out to brave the cold water and took a quick shower. We felt cleaner after a long journey and got our fresh T-shirts on as quickly as we could. Martin took out a pack of cards and we played a round or two before we decided to call it a night. We briefly stepped out into the cold night air. A magnificent canopy of stars stretched across the skies, and we were grateful to have this uncluttered view.
Martin and I struggled to get warm in the bed. He giggled and eventually settled down. Sven and Nicolas were much quieter and now and then I would hear a lip being sucked, or a satisfactory groan. I tried to imagine what they were up to because it was definitely too dark to see anything.
Nicolas was up first. His mood had changed, and he made coffee for everyone. Nick had a T-shirt on but wasn't wearing anything else. I enjoyed catching a glimpse of his flaccid penis framed by a bush of red pubic. After breakfast, we packed and prepared for a journey via Quacha's Nek. The guard warned us that the road between us a Quacha's Nek was in very bad condition and that we needed to be very careful.
The guard wasn't wrong. There were boulders on parts of the road and in places, the surface had been washed away. On one of the very steep passes the tar had been completely washed away and we navigated gravel. I recalled years before travelling on this section after road renovations, but things were different now.
We finally arrived in Quacha's Nek, which was full and brimming with people who had come down to do their shopping. We stopped at a roadside stall on the edge of the town where we bought fat cakes to enjoy on the way. We used the new road to Semonkong which was in incredible condition. There were sweeping passes that provided unhindered views over the valleys. Nicolas found the scenery breathtaking as we slowly climbed up into the mountains.
Nicolas was surprised at just how small Semonkong was. It was a central town but there was very little there. The road to the Semonkong Lodge was in terrible condition and fortunately, they hadn't had any rain which made it more navigable. We crossed a low-water bridge and parked the car in a parking lot before checking in. We were warmly welcomed and allocated a double room near the top of the hill. The room had a lovely view, but it did mean that we had to carry our luggage a long way. There was a beautiful spiral aloe outside our room. These plants are endemic to Lesotho and thrive in the high-altitude climate. Martin and I took the bed near the window. I unpacked into the small cupboard and left my toiletries in the bathroom.
Sven and Nicolas play wrestled on their bed, and Nicolas gave him a deep kiss. I intervened and told them we needed to have lunch before the kitchen closed. Nicolas said he would be happy with Swedish sausage as Sven got up and pulled Nicolas up.
We walked down to the dining room where the hostess recognised Sven, Martin and I. We introduced Nicolas and sat at a table near the fire. There wasn't much still available, and we opted for pie and chips. Mé Masetho brought four Maluti beers and we sat in the rustic dining area enjoying our lunch. That afternoon we walked up the steep hill to the `town' to explore.
People greeted us as we passed their homes. There were a lot of horses tied in the square and this was reminiscent of a scene from an old Wild West movie. There were also donkeys with sacks of maize meal on their backs. We arrived at a tavern where George welcomed us. It was dark inside and there were several men huddled around tables talking and drinking. We ordered four Malutis and listened to George talk about the area and the horse races that sometimes take place.
We returned to the lodge in time for a hearty stew served with rice and vegetables. The chef had prepared a traditional malva pudding for dessert. Together with a good bottle of wine, it prepared us for an early night. Nicolas and Sven were making out on their bed when Martin and I came out of the shower. Sven was on his back his legs above him against Nicolas' shoulders. Nic's dick was deep in his hole as he thrust rhythmically. Sven groaned with pleasure.
I turned the lights out, and we went straight to our bed. I felt my dick grow hard and I felt Martin's against mine, as I went in for another kiss. He pulled me on top of him. The noises coming from the bed alongside us were incredible. We wildly stripped off our clothes and I asked Martin to fuck me. I sucked his dick and then smeared lube on it. I sat on my knees over is stomach while he massaged my abs. I put some lube in my hole and then sat and brought my hole onto his erect dick. He went in carefully and I began to slowly move up and down. The angle was just right, and my prostate was sending good signals. He moaned with satisfaction as he supported my body with his firm Boy Scout hands. I started ejaculating and my cum splashed onto his chest and neck. He gasped:
"I'm going to come."
He eased me off and I rolled next to him, nearly falling off the bed! I licked the cum of his chest and kissed him, and he said:
"That was magnificent, Tom.
We lay next to each other running our fingers lightly across each other's chests and we fell asleep together.
That night I dreamed about Martin and me. We weren't rushing off to morning lectures and I asked him to join me in the shower after breakfast. I was excited to be alone with Martin. When he got up to clear the breakfast table, I saw the tent his dick made in his sleep shorts. I turned on the shower, and we stripped and began washing each other. I shampooed his hair and washed his arse area and poured the pine-scented shower gel over his back and soaped. He did the same to me. Martin pushed me against the shower wall and kissed the back of his neck. I felt his erect dick bouncing against my arse cheeks. I turned and kissed him. He stuck a finger in my hole and loosened me up. I felt him pushing his dick into my hole and I relaxed to make his entry easier. I squirmed a little and he asked if I was okay, and I told him to go for it.
Martin's thrusts became more rhythmic, and I enjoyed the feeling of him in me. My arms were stretched above me against the wall and his hands gripped my hips firmly. I couldn't control myself and started shooting my load onto the shower wall. I then felt Martin's dick throbbing in my arse and him breathing more irregularly as he came. We had done this so many times before, but somehow this felt more special. He wrapped his arms around me, held me tight, and whispered how much he loved me. I dropped to my knees and sucked on his semi-erect dick, tasting the last of his cum.
We were up early and planned to get to the Maletsunyane Falls after breakfast.
What happened next?
I finished an undergraduate degree in Philosophy and Martin became an engineer. Our relationship remained strong, and we eventually got married. In Sweden, Sven and Nicolas would eventually split up. Nicolas returned to his religious family, but soon fell out with them and vanished in Stockholm. Sven never heard from him again and remained broken-hearted for some time.
Marisa had a little boy and named him after her late grandfather Wouter. Martin and I were pleased to be involved in Wouter's early life, but we lost contact once Marisa returned to the Free State to be near her family. Marisa still sends us picture updates of Wouter who is very cute.
Franco Rossi took time out and eventually returned to being a parish priest in Verona. He believed that the celibate lifestyle suited him more than a gay lifestyle and he fully committed himself to the congregation he served.
Joel Sher became a medical doctor but lost touch with our group, and Jan never kept in touch with him either. But we heard that he ended up in Sydney and that he does stand-up comedy now and again.
Jan Marais became a lawyer and focused on human rights. He remained in Cape Town and never did return to his beloved Karoo. He made sure that he went home during holiday time and immersed himself in hard farm work, he always made time to admire the spectacular night skies.
Fortunately, Jan Marais and Eckhardt Hutter finally got together and still live together. Eckhardt became a medical doctor but never returned to Namibia. They adopted a child and are learning how to be parents. Martin and I still visit them occasionally and have enjoyed seeing their relationship develop. Eckhardt's parents liked Jan and treated him like a son, but it was much more difficult for Jan's father to accept his sexual orientation, even though the rest of the family had.
This is not a happily ever after story. But it does seem that people eventually found their happiness in following their hearts.
If this was a happily ever after story then I might have used this poem to end:
"With every heartbeat, our love grows strong A bond that's deep, enduring, and lifelong Through every trial, through every song We'll face the world together, where we belong."
Endnote
I came across this piece of writing on Aeon by Pranay Sanklecha, the piece was called `Philosophy was once alive.'
`Why did you decide to study philosophy?' asked the Harvard professor, sitting in the park in his cream linen suit.
Because I want to find out how to live,' I said. I want to find out what matters and I want to live my life accordingly.'
He smiled affectionately, leaning forward in his deck chair. If you want to find meaning, Pranay, don't study philosophy. Go fish, become a carpenter, do anything. But don't expect to find it by studying philosophy. If by `philosophy' we refer to the played-out game of academic analytic philosophy, he was right.
But if by philosophy we refer to the mysterious human activity of searching for truth, to processes of thought and perception, to communal seeking, to genuine dialogue and true encounter, to the moment when our minds open and something true rushes in – if we refer to any of these things, then the professor from Harvard was about as wrong as one could be.