The Weekend
FRIDAY:
It was a short day at work for Wendy, which was good, because by 1:00 we were both pretty hungry. Wendy knew of a mall close by with a bunch of restaurants, so we ate and the poked around in Woolworth’s (which has the best gourmet food department). We then went to Fruit and Veg city (Everyone says Veg here – very British), which not onl had mounds of cheap fruit and veg, but there is a booth called ‘Housewives’ Helper’ which chops and dices your veg for free. It is all too exciting.
Saturday we decided to go on a drive in the country. Since this is Africa, we figured we would find all sorts of interesting and different things to see and do. We drove towards Johannesburg, and the swung onto a country road. The highways near the cities are toll roads (like the Interstates in America) and so you have to have change handy. If you hand the toll operator a bill and request change, they often say that there is no change, keep the bill, and pocket the difference. Two toll roads later, we were in the countryside. Besides the red soil, it did not look to different from home.
We went through tunnel and over a dam. At either end of the tunnel were vendors selling cell phone plugs and hangars and shoe racks and lychee nuts. We bargained for a huge box of lychees, but as soon as the other vendors noticed that we were not idnoring them or trying to run over them, they swarmed towards the car. Sister is very good at shooing away vendors, I learned.
Our first stop was a touristy African market. It is one of the biggest markets in South Africa, but since we knew we would be going to Zambia and Zimbabwe, where markets are not touristy and the goods are dirt cheap, we did not want to overpay here. We did bargain for one adorable beaded necklace, and it was funny to hear the same lines: “looking is free” etc. that we have heard in Trinidad, Dominica, Italy, Israel, Egypt…. small world! When one stops at this sort of market (or a restaurant in Pretoria, or even Friut and Veg city) there is an unofficial guard who is paid to watch the cars, and who expects a tip. It is not a lot of money, and it is good to know that the car is safe, but it is really annoying to have to always pay.
We passed a sign for a croc breeding farm, and a few game parks. The game parks looked interesting, and at the next sign we turned off the highway.
Big mistake. I don’t know if there was a game park, but after driving 20 minutes on a rutted red-clay path, we decided to use the facilities (tall weeds – after a close look for snakes) and turn around. Wendy put her new silver car into reverse, and…
…crunch! We had hit something, but what? We both got out, and partway under the car was a 10-inch high concrete cone with long rusty nails sticking up out of it. On this road of clay and grass we had found the one obstacle. The problem was how to get off the concrete without gouging the underside of the car further. I used my hand to break off some of the rusted nails, until I remembered I had shunned the idea of a tetanus shot back in Canada. We used a stick to bend nails and scrape off some of the broken concrete, and then we just gritted our teeth and backed off the thing. What a pain! We hurried back to the highway and retraced out path, through the city of Brits, to more interesting countryside.
On earlier drives, Wendy had passed a number of adorable farms which had little restaurants, and so we searched until we found one. The restaurant was a barn, and we ate outside at a table under a tree. The other diners (a British cyclist, a British pilot and his wife, who had just come down from a plane) were really friendly when they heard that I was a singer and was in South Africa for the UNISA competition. The owner of the restaurant gave be a big ‘good luck’ hug. The pizza I ate was cooked in a stone oven. The restaurant had been open only two weeks, and it was the perfect place to stop.
By that time, sis and I were tired of driving and wanted to so a more physical activity, so we drove back on the road until we came to a sign that said: Berry Picking! Hurrah! We spent the next hour on an Afrikanaas farm, next to the ‘cradle of humanity’ (where scientists thing human life first evolved), picking blackberries and raspberries. The patches were full of chickens and wild birds, and little dogs, and wasps and other buzzing things, but they did not seem to mind us picking their berries.
I drove back to the city (practice for Monday, when I had to drive to the UNISA campus and drive Wendy to work) and we spent the evening eating berries.
SUNDAY
We slept in until 8!! Every other morning we have woken up at 6, so this was quite a feat. Since the sun comes up at 4 in the morning, 6 feels like midday, almost, with just a bit of the dawn stillness.
At 11 I had a rehearsal with my pianist, which was conveniently only a few blocks from the Canadian High Commission. Afterwards we went to a darling little restaurant for lunch, then decided to get manicures (like picking raspberries, it seemed like a very African activity). We drove to Brooklyn mall (not unlike the mall IN Brooklyn, NY) which unfortunately was mostly closed (on Sundays stores in the mall are open from 9-2). Woolworths was open, though, and we bought some interesting food – chickpea burgers and fondue-melty cheese.
Driving back through Silver Lakes (sister’s neighbourhood/golf community) there were live-in domestics being visited by their children and having picnics on the side-lawns of many of the houses. More about SL later.
MONDAY
I drove! All the way back from the high commission, onto the highway, and around TWO traffic circles and into Silver Lakes. Sure, I got in the visitors’ lane at SL and they didn’t want to let me in, and I almost missed the turn-off to the highway and had to back onto the sidewalk to turn around, but I drove. Now I am freeeee, and can get anywhere!
Sis and I left for her work at 6:40am, which was about 15 minutes too late to avoid the morning traffic. Driving out of SL in the morning there is plenty to see. The day-workers are walking into the community from the township across the field. There are a couple of hundred black African men. [For the purposes of this, in African there live 1- black Africans (who are either one of the 11 tribes of S-A, the largest being Zulu, or illegals from Zimbabwe, Ethopia or Mozambique), 2- Africanaas, or white Africans of Dutch origin 3- British Africans 4- Indians from India] near the entrance, waiting in the hope that they are offered casual work for the day. There is a man (employed by Silver Lakes) directing traffic, to ensure that SL residents do not have to wait to turn onto the highway (because of course they are the most important!). There is a man selling newspapers in English and Afrikanaas to people in the cars. There is a wooden box where a makeshift store sells loaves of bread and bananas to the waiting workers.
The drive in took forever, but there was no traffic leaving Pretoria, and I zipped back to SL. Now I have to drive BACK to Pretoria, to the pianist’s house. Eek.
I got lost in a field. I got lost on the highway. Still, I did it!
Driving to the High Comission from the accompanist’s house I followed the landmarks:
-Crazy dancing Afrikanaas man, who always stands at the same street corner, dancing amid the traffic.
-Huge which reads “Jesus Saves”. Well, he saved me from getting lost today, anyway! (for about three seconds)
-BMW dealership
…and ended up back on t highway heading to Silver Lakes. Darn!!!
Finally, now I am safe at the high commission, waiting for sis to finish her interviews. I don’t think that laptops are allowed inside the HC, so I am trying to type really quietly, and to blend in with the refugee applicants waiting for interviews (you can guess how much I am blending in…)
Since I have nowhere to go and there is no chance of my getting behind that wheel without a mapped-out destination, I will try to use up the 20 mins I have to wait for Wendy by making a list:
INTRESETING SOUTH AFRICA TIDBITS
1- Streetlights are called ‘Robots’. There are signs reading: Robot ahead. Too funny.
2- Morning radio is beyond weird. This morning the on-air conversations ranged from:
-How the reason we do not sleep with your family members is how they give off a smell which is distasteful to us, and how Madonna in tights must give off that smell to anyone in her vicinity (!)
-How missing-persons reports are being photoshopped so that the photographs are more attractive
-How mean girls are in dorm rooms. How they put your toothbrush in the toilet, invite you to imaginary parties, and bake dog doo in your pie.
3- Doors open backwards, and, for the most part, are opened by heavy metal keys, like in Sherlock-Holmes-London time.
4- Books are ridiculously expensive – from $20-30 Canadian
5- They say ‘Veg’. I think I have mentioned that earlier, and I know that Brits do it too, but really, it sounds funny every time I hear it.
6- Some people (I think it is the native Zulu speakers) roll their Rs. It is gorgeous and sounds so elegant. I wish I could do it, but I just sound like a fool.
***
While I have been sitting here an older man came in to ask for the address of a Canadian who was mentioned in the paper. Of course the consulate did not give it out. They probably did not even have it. He left unsatisfied. I suspect the family sitting beside me is my sister’s refugee case. I wish *I* could do interviews…
I don’t want to keep mentioning race, because I don’t care about it myself, but it is really a huge issue here. I am going to read up on apartheid today so I can understand things better, but basically there are:
-The Afrikanaas (white). Of Dutch background (but do not like to be called Dutch). Historically, they were primarily farmers and they remind me of the people in southern Alberta. That is about 10% of the population.
-The Black Africans. Called blacks here. They were the ones discriminated against during apartheid. They belong to one of 11 tribes and each has a separate languages. Zulu is the largest tribe, and the most widely spoken language. Back in the day, under apartheid, they were not allowed to live in the cities, but were brought in from Townships (the most well-known of which is called SoWeTa – South West Township) on the outskirts of cities. 14 years ago these people could not ride the same buses or shop in the same stores as the ‘whites’. Things here have come a long way in 14 years, but still the menial jobs are all done by Black Africans L
-The Diplomats. Pretoria is a Diplomatic city, with over 30 embassies. The main perk of being a diplomat here is being able to buy gas at the Diplomatic gas station, which offers gas (which is quite expensive here) tax-free. Sis and I went on Friday to buy gas, but they were all out of gas. Wendy asked the gas jockeys (who were lounging around in the shade, as here was no gas to pump) when t gas would arrive. They answered that it would arrive the next day. She asked what time they opened, so we could hurry and get some gas before it was all gone again. They replied that they were here 24 hours to serve their customers (serve them with WHAT?! There was no gas and that was all they sold?!) and that the gas would be there ‘with the sun’. Although we arrived there a few hours later than the sun on Saturday, we were greeted with arms flung skyward and excuses about how it should have arrived and didn’t. If I was only a diplomat and received such specialized treatment!
Hmm, still waiting. Visa applicants come and go. Wendy’s assistant just came out and told me that Wendy is finished her interview, and may have one more. We have fresh berries for lunch, and then I have to find an internet café and put this online
It was a short day at work for Wendy, which was good, because by 1:00 we were both pretty hungry. Wendy knew of a mall close by with a bunch of restaurants, so we ate and the poked around in Woolworth’s (which has the best gourmet food department). We then went to Fruit and Veg city (Everyone says Veg here – very British), which not onl had mounds of cheap fruit and veg, but there is a booth called ‘Housewives’ Helper’ which chops and dices your veg for free. It is all too exciting.
Saturday we decided to go on a drive in the country. Since this is Africa, we figured we would find all sorts of interesting and different things to see and do. We drove towards Johannesburg, and the swung onto a country road. The highways near the cities are toll roads (like the Interstates in America) and so you have to have change handy. If you hand the toll operator a bill and request change, they often say that there is no change, keep the bill, and pocket the difference. Two toll roads later, we were in the countryside. Besides the red soil, it did not look to different from home.
We went through tunnel and over a dam. At either end of the tunnel were vendors selling cell phone plugs and hangars and shoe racks and lychee nuts. We bargained for a huge box of lychees, but as soon as the other vendors noticed that we were not idnoring them or trying to run over them, they swarmed towards the car. Sister is very good at shooing away vendors, I learned.
Our first stop was a touristy African market. It is one of the biggest markets in South Africa, but since we knew we would be going to Zambia and Zimbabwe, where markets are not touristy and the goods are dirt cheap, we did not want to overpay here. We did bargain for one adorable beaded necklace, and it was funny to hear the same lines: “looking is free” etc. that we have heard in Trinidad, Dominica, Italy, Israel, Egypt…. small world! When one stops at this sort of market (or a restaurant in Pretoria, or even Friut and Veg city) there is an unofficial guard who is paid to watch the cars, and who expects a tip. It is not a lot of money, and it is good to know that the car is safe, but it is really annoying to have to always pay.
We passed a sign for a croc breeding farm, and a few game parks. The game parks looked interesting, and at the next sign we turned off the highway.
Big mistake. I don’t know if there was a game park, but after driving 20 minutes on a rutted red-clay path, we decided to use the facilities (tall weeds – after a close look for snakes) and turn around. Wendy put her new silver car into reverse, and…
…crunch! We had hit something, but what? We both got out, and partway under the car was a 10-inch high concrete cone with long rusty nails sticking up out of it. On this road of clay and grass we had found the one obstacle. The problem was how to get off the concrete without gouging the underside of the car further. I used my hand to break off some of the rusted nails, until I remembered I had shunned the idea of a tetanus shot back in Canada. We used a stick to bend nails and scrape off some of the broken concrete, and then we just gritted our teeth and backed off the thing. What a pain! We hurried back to the highway and retraced out path, through the city of Brits, to more interesting countryside.
On earlier drives, Wendy had passed a number of adorable farms which had little restaurants, and so we searched until we found one. The restaurant was a barn, and we ate outside at a table under a tree. The other diners (a British cyclist, a British pilot and his wife, who had just come down from a plane) were really friendly when they heard that I was a singer and was in South Africa for the UNISA competition. The owner of the restaurant gave be a big ‘good luck’ hug. The pizza I ate was cooked in a stone oven. The restaurant had been open only two weeks, and it was the perfect place to stop.
By that time, sis and I were tired of driving and wanted to so a more physical activity, so we drove back on the road until we came to a sign that said: Berry Picking! Hurrah! We spent the next hour on an Afrikanaas farm, next to the ‘cradle of humanity’ (where scientists thing human life first evolved), picking blackberries and raspberries. The patches were full of chickens and wild birds, and little dogs, and wasps and other buzzing things, but they did not seem to mind us picking their berries.
I drove back to the city (practice for Monday, when I had to drive to the UNISA campus and drive Wendy to work) and we spent the evening eating berries.
SUNDAY
We slept in until 8!! Every other morning we have woken up at 6, so this was quite a feat. Since the sun comes up at 4 in the morning, 6 feels like midday, almost, with just a bit of the dawn stillness.
At 11 I had a rehearsal with my pianist, which was conveniently only a few blocks from the Canadian High Commission. Afterwards we went to a darling little restaurant for lunch, then decided to get manicures (like picking raspberries, it seemed like a very African activity). We drove to Brooklyn mall (not unlike the mall IN Brooklyn, NY) which unfortunately was mostly closed (on Sundays stores in the mall are open from 9-2). Woolworths was open, though, and we bought some interesting food – chickpea burgers and fondue-melty cheese.
Driving back through Silver Lakes (sister’s neighbourhood/golf community) there were live-in domestics being visited by their children and having picnics on the side-lawns of many of the houses. More about SL later.
MONDAY
I drove! All the way back from the high commission, onto the highway, and around TWO traffic circles and into Silver Lakes. Sure, I got in the visitors’ lane at SL and they didn’t want to let me in, and I almost missed the turn-off to the highway and had to back onto the sidewalk to turn around, but I drove. Now I am freeeee, and can get anywhere!
Sis and I left for her work at 6:40am, which was about 15 minutes too late to avoid the morning traffic. Driving out of SL in the morning there is plenty to see. The day-workers are walking into the community from the township across the field. There are a couple of hundred black African men. [For the purposes of this, in African there live 1- black Africans (who are either one of the 11 tribes of S-A, the largest being Zulu, or illegals from Zimbabwe, Ethopia or Mozambique), 2- Africanaas, or white Africans of Dutch origin 3- British Africans 4- Indians from India] near the entrance, waiting in the hope that they are offered casual work for the day. There is a man (employed by Silver Lakes) directing traffic, to ensure that SL residents do not have to wait to turn onto the highway (because of course they are the most important!). There is a man selling newspapers in English and Afrikanaas to people in the cars. There is a wooden box where a makeshift store sells loaves of bread and bananas to the waiting workers.
The drive in took forever, but there was no traffic leaving Pretoria, and I zipped back to SL. Now I have to drive BACK to Pretoria, to the pianist’s house. Eek.
I got lost in a field. I got lost on the highway. Still, I did it!
Driving to the High Comission from the accompanist’s house I followed the landmarks:
-Crazy dancing Afrikanaas man, who always stands at the same street corner, dancing amid the traffic.
-Huge which reads “Jesus Saves”. Well, he saved me from getting lost today, anyway! (for about three seconds)
-BMW dealership
…and ended up back on t highway heading to Silver Lakes. Darn!!!
Finally, now I am safe at the high commission, waiting for sis to finish her interviews. I don’t think that laptops are allowed inside the HC, so I am trying to type really quietly, and to blend in with the refugee applicants waiting for interviews (you can guess how much I am blending in…)
Since I have nowhere to go and there is no chance of my getting behind that wheel without a mapped-out destination, I will try to use up the 20 mins I have to wait for Wendy by making a list:
INTRESETING SOUTH AFRICA TIDBITS
1- Streetlights are called ‘Robots’. There are signs reading: Robot ahead. Too funny.
2- Morning radio is beyond weird. This morning the on-air conversations ranged from:
-How the reason we do not sleep with your family members is how they give off a smell which is distasteful to us, and how Madonna in tights must give off that smell to anyone in her vicinity (!)
-How missing-persons reports are being photoshopped so that the photographs are more attractive
-How mean girls are in dorm rooms. How they put your toothbrush in the toilet, invite you to imaginary parties, and bake dog doo in your pie.
3- Doors open backwards, and, for the most part, are opened by heavy metal keys, like in Sherlock-Holmes-London time.
4- Books are ridiculously expensive – from $20-30 Canadian
5- They say ‘Veg’. I think I have mentioned that earlier, and I know that Brits do it too, but really, it sounds funny every time I hear it.
6- Some people (I think it is the native Zulu speakers) roll their Rs. It is gorgeous and sounds so elegant. I wish I could do it, but I just sound like a fool.
***
While I have been sitting here an older man came in to ask for the address of a Canadian who was mentioned in the paper. Of course the consulate did not give it out. They probably did not even have it. He left unsatisfied. I suspect the family sitting beside me is my sister’s refugee case. I wish *I* could do interviews…
I don’t want to keep mentioning race, because I don’t care about it myself, but it is really a huge issue here. I am going to read up on apartheid today so I can understand things better, but basically there are:
-The Afrikanaas (white). Of Dutch background (but do not like to be called Dutch). Historically, they were primarily farmers and they remind me of the people in southern Alberta. That is about 10% of the population.
-The Black Africans. Called blacks here. They were the ones discriminated against during apartheid. They belong to one of 11 tribes and each has a separate languages. Zulu is the largest tribe, and the most widely spoken language. Back in the day, under apartheid, they were not allowed to live in the cities, but were brought in from Townships (the most well-known of which is called SoWeTa – South West Township) on the outskirts of cities. 14 years ago these people could not ride the same buses or shop in the same stores as the ‘whites’. Things here have come a long way in 14 years, but still the menial jobs are all done by Black Africans L
-The Diplomats. Pretoria is a Diplomatic city, with over 30 embassies. The main perk of being a diplomat here is being able to buy gas at the Diplomatic gas station, which offers gas (which is quite expensive here) tax-free. Sis and I went on Friday to buy gas, but they were all out of gas. Wendy asked the gas jockeys (who were lounging around in the shade, as here was no gas to pump) when t gas would arrive. They answered that it would arrive the next day. She asked what time they opened, so we could hurry and get some gas before it was all gone again. They replied that they were here 24 hours to serve their customers (serve them with WHAT?! There was no gas and that was all they sold?!) and that the gas would be there ‘with the sun’. Although we arrived there a few hours later than the sun on Saturday, we were greeted with arms flung skyward and excuses about how it should have arrived and didn’t. If I was only a diplomat and received such specialized treatment!
Hmm, still waiting. Visa applicants come and go. Wendy’s assistant just came out and told me that Wendy is finished her interview, and may have one more. We have fresh berries for lunch, and then I have to find an internet café and put this online
posted by Melamondiale @ 2:51 AM
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