On this rainy Tuesday I am sitting outside Wendy’s office, waiting for the mall to open, so that I can pick up our photos. Really, photo labs are the same everywhere – the is the third time I’ve had to go back, and I doubt that they will be done right this time either. I guess I have nothing better to do at 8 in the morning (it is not quite 7 now).
Sis and I just came from the gas station, where we filled up her car. Unfortunately, the VISA machine was not working, so the station manager suggested that we return to pay for the gas later. That is a lot of trust (!). Wendy was all ready to pitch a fit if he said we had to then pay with cash, as we did not have any cash, but there was no fit needed.
Nothing too exciting has been happening. I have my first rehearsal with the opera company here, and a meeting to discuss repertoire for our March concert, which has thus far been rescheduled about 6 times. This is it. If we do not actually meet today I will be the one pitching the fit. It should be an interesting meeting, though, and I hope the repertoire we pick will be interesting.
Last night sis and I played Boggle and watched Fear Factor South Africa. It is not exactly safaris every night, but FF was hilarious. It is a different format than in the US – There are 20 contestants and a few are eliminated each show. This is episode 3, and they are down to 14 players. Also, the safety guidelines are somewhat more lax than back home, and players are actually getting hurt quite badly. On the first epoisode one girl lost a chunk of her hair after being dragged behind a truck. On he second episode they had to ride a bicycle through glass, and everyone is bandaged and scraped. During the night the players have to sleep in a tent and they have ‘boot camp’ activities in the morning, to make them weaker. It is cruel, but it is good tv. Last night they had to jump from one boat to another, and one girl was crying in agony after she hit her leg during the jump (I think that was the same girl who lost her hair). In the second task they were strapped to a ‘torture table’ and their heads were encased in a box of milk, and if they drank enough, they would be able to breathe long enough win. Unfortunately, sometimes the milk was fresh, and sometimes it was 3 days old. Good Tv.
I didn’t believe it from Canada, but there really is not a lot to do in Pretoria. It is like Edmonton – there isn’t a lot in the vicinity of the city. Driving around at night isn’t safe because of the hijackings of cars and the attacks on women in the card, and during the day there are ‘smash-and-grabs’ – basically, smashing a window at a red light and grabbing whatever one can. Officers at the HC have been instructed not to stop at red lights at night because that is where people are lying in wait. It is not horribly scary or anything, but there are attacks in the areas where we go – there are attacks EVERYWHERE – and constant vigilance is a bit boring. Also it is raining every evening, and all day today, it seems.
There are strange things culturally here, but one gets used to it all pretty fast – gas stations (but for the one we went to this morning) do not take credit cards, and the gas attendant must be tipped. In parking lots (which are seldom free) there are random men who stand by the cars and also demand a tip. Streets and cities have 2 names usually – an old afrikanaas name, an a new ‘African’ (maybe Zulu or Aswana) name. Maps use either. Street signs use either.
Oh, here is something interesting. On the weekend one of Wendy’s drivers took us to Mamelodi, the township near to Silver Lakes (townships are basically Black cities on the outskirts of White cities, which were built to hold the workers etc. so that they could travel to Pretoria or wherever to work, but that they would not sleep within the cities.) Aparthied is over, townships remain.
He drove us to the rehearsal of a community orchestra – kids and adults on electric guitars and drums and violins. It was fascinating to see, but after 90 minutes of loud banging music we were ready to go. I had to make an ‘uplifting’ speech at the end of the rehearsal, and sing a bit for them. They really enjoyed it, and that part was a lot of fun. (It is hard saying people play well when they most certainly DO NOT)
After the rehearsal we were supposed to go to a Shabeem (Township bar). It was not open yet, however, so Lazarus, the driver, took us to his men’s club. Sort of like the Waterbuffalos in the Flintstones. A tiny room full of drunken men playing music ear-bleedingly loud and watching WWF. Sis and I were the only girls, the only white people, and the only ones not in the club. It was beyond awkward. Actually we were the only white people in the township. We didn’t see one other. Stupid skin colour, it would be a lot more fun if we weren’t so conspicuous. In the end, though, the townships are like any Caribbean village or city, but in the Caribbean people are friendly and welcoming, not suspicious.
More later, it is almost time to get the photos.
