The Barmaid's Tale

At dockside nightclubs in Cape Town and Durban, barmaids fetch drinks for foreign seamen and local prostitutes. But many are also available for romantic trysts. So what are they really?: waitresses or prostitutes?

Most dockside barmaids focus on serving drinks. That's their "real" job. They get a salary for it. Plus tips.

But they can earn better tips if they actually sit with the guys, chat with them, entertain them. So a couple of clubs allow the barmaids to do double-duty: serve drinks and hang out with the sailors. She keeps the boss happy by making sure the seamen keep buying liquor. And she makes herself happy knowing that she'll get a greater tip at the end of the evening for her personal attentions.

So, if a girl want lots of money, what are the pros and cons of being a barmaid?

Pros:
* they enjoy great mobility in the club, allowing them to meet lots of guys
* they avoid hostility from the prostitutes because they're just doing their job
* they deflect the stigma of being prostitutes because they have legitimate employment
* they can pass themselves off as "normal" women to men who don't want sex with a prostitute, but a "straight" lady
* and if they're shy, they can still meet lots of men because their job makes them move around the club a lot.

Cons:
* they can't abandon their bar work to go off with a client; they have to finish their shift (or pay a R200 exit fee)
* they can't wear alluring outfits, just the boring bar uniform
* they're not always sought after for sex because the sailors think they're just barmaids, not prostitutes
* they're not supposed to drink on duty, nor dance (unless the club is empty)

But Durban and Cape Town are different. An example: In Durban, a shy pro stopped soliciting so that she could become a barmaid. She didn't like dressing up every night or having to approach men. So she donned the barmaid’s uniform: jeans, takkies, t-shirt with club logo, and a skipper’s cap. This lowered her ability to attract attention, but it allowed her to constantly meet guys. With a server’s tray in hand, she could move about, getting lots of valuable face-time with the men. And the prostitutes wouldn't bother getting jealous because it was simply her job. Though she’d usually be busy serving liquor orders, she could hint to customers that she was free afterwards.

This is a fairly typical scenario in Durban. Many women move from prostitute to barmaid. They appreciate the steady, if small, income they can earn. And they like the fact that they can still get guys every once in awhile.

But in Cape Town, the women tend to go from barmaid to prostitute. They come to the clubs as young girls, become barmaids, then realize that they prefer the freedom that the pros have. They want to work their own hours. They want the cash bonanza that comes with a sexual contract. Being a barmaid ties them down too much. So, after some months as barmaids, they switch to being full-time pros.

A Sailor and His Cape Town Girl

In 2003, I sailed on two cargo ships from Los Angeles to Cape Town. On the voyage from London to Cape Town, a Filipino sailor told me about his Cape Town "girlfriend" who worked at one of the dockside nightclubs. Here's how I wrote about it back then (using pseudonyms here):

When I take my walks around the ship in the afternoon, I always chat with Manuel, an Able-Bodied Seaman, who goes about his duties chipping, painting, scrubbing, and splicing. He’s a short, pudgy guy, with a low-budget Superman "S" tattoo on his jiggly tricep. But he’s very easy with the smiles. A nice guy.

Manuel comes from a wealthy family near Manila. He says his father is a big-shot businessman who could have landed him a cushy office job with a dubious “import-export” firm, but he chose the more exciting life of an sailor. Lots of Filipinos try their luck as seamen, so he did too. He’s in his early thirties now, having worked as a seafarer for nine years.

One day he asks me if I have a girlfriend. I reply I do. In fact, she lives in Cape Town. His eyes light up, “You have a girlfriend in Cape Town?! Wow, me too! Me too!” He gives me a slap on the arm, buddies now.

Then he whispers conspiratorially, “The other guys are jealous that I have a girlfriend in Cape Town, so I don’t like to speak about her in public.”

“Ahhhh, right, of course,” I feign understanding.

He whips out a few pictures of a pasty white girl with black hair and a pleasant face. He gets a far-away look in his eyes as he talks about her. “That’s Christy, my girlfriend. I love her so much. She’s Portuguese.”

Manuel met Christy at one of dockside nightclubs where she works as a "barmaid." Though the club is known as a pick-up joint for sailors looking for prostitutes, Manuel assures me that Christy has nothing to do with that. She just works with the drinks. He boasts that he is the first guy who she met at the bar that she has really ever spent time with. “I’ve done this run to Cape Town a few times now, so when I first saw her at the club, I immediately fell in love. She’s so beautiful. Just look at her, man—isn’t she beautiful?!”

I scrutinize the pictures, “Yah, a real peach, Manuel.”

“Yah, my beautiful peach," he exclaims. "So, after the first time we met, I wrote to her from the ship and even called her when I was back home. Then I saw her twice again after that when the ship came into Cape Town. We’ve remained faithful for the last two years.”

Manuel's gush of sincerity and vulnerability is refreshing. I'm happy for him. “That’s great, man. So why are you so secretive about it with the crew?"

He knits his brows, “They’re jealous. They’re always laughing at me, telling me that she’s nothing but a whore, that she isn’t faithful to me, that her job allows her to meet plenty of guys who will pay money to hang out with her. They say she’s not serious, but just having a good time with me. They say I should just look for a real relationship in the Philippines, like they all do.” His eyes glisten, “But Henry, I’m in love with this girl. Look at her! She’s so beautiful!”

I look at the pictures again. In one photo, Manuel’s got his flabby Superman arms wrapped around her as they perch on a barstool. His face is the image of pure contentment. In another, she rolls her eyes at the idea of being photographed behind the bar’s cash register. The third is a portrait shot of her in front of a line of fancy skyscrapers, not in Cape Town. In the last, a dog yips at her legs in her backyard.

When I ask where she lives, the name of the suburb reveals that it is one of the areas built for “poor whites” during the apartheid era. Apparently her family came to South Africa from Mozambique in the 1970s when the liberation war sent the Portuguese colonials packing.

“So do you have serious plans with this woman?” I ask.

“I’ve asked her to marry me three times already!” he exclaims.

“What?!” I jump.

“Yes, I want to marry this girl, but she says that she wants to take her time about it. She’s still in her early twenties, so wants to have a few more experiences in her life before she gets married. But I’m in my thirties, I’m ready now.”

As I keep thumbing through the few photos, I ask where the one with the fancy buildings was taken. Manuel’s embarrassed now, “This one is actually in Hong Kong.”

“Wow, so she’s well-traveled!” I enthuse.

He emits a nervous laugh, “Yah, kind of. Uh, actually, a rich Chinese businessman who she met at the club offered her a trip to Hong Kong.” He quickly reassures me, “But it didn’t mean anything, it was just a holiday. She said that she didn’t do anything with the man, but just wanted to have a different experience. You know, travel a little. But she didn’t do anything with him. Nothing. I know. I trust her.”

I battle to compose my face to look convinced, “I’m sure you’re right, Manuel.” I can see that he is struggling too, anxiety creeping across his brow. I switch back to safer ground, “OK, so…still, do you think you’ll get married?”

Manuel’s back on a high again. “Oh yes, definitely. She just needs time. And after this trip to Cape Town, I’m sure she’ll be ready.”

Manuel wants to take Christy to the Philippines, maybe even give up his sailing career so that they can live together, as proper husband and wife, near his family. He might even take up that import-export job if she comes. He’ll build her a house too! And she can have lots of dogs! Etc.

He’s got two days in Cape Town this time, then another two in three weeks time. But he has no idea if he will ever come back to South Africa as a sailor. His agency can hire him out to any company on any route. It's just been Manuel’s luck to get to Cape Town enough times to fall hopelessly in love with a dockside woman.