After a couple of strawberry daiquiris and a month without posting I feel I have enough material to start posting again.
You should know that I finally racked up enough courage to cross the border into South Africa... ahhh the land of milk and honey.
This is not true.
South Africa is a violent vicious place, where any indication that you are not a local marks you out for mugging and blatant xenophobic intolerance.
Why just the other day, when I had at last mustered enough courage to use public transport, i got into a bus and sat beside a wizened old fella I felt safe beside him. That is, until I opened my mouth.
I asked him what the fare was and he replied in a series of clicks and grunts.
I gave him a blank stare.
And indicated by gesturing to my ears that I did not speak the language.
Dear reader, I cannot begin to describe to you the look of disdain that flashed across the toothless man’s face, only to be replaced by unbridled disgust.
Flashing out lip-gloss and calmly applying it did not seem to help my case with him, for he gave me the up and down and just as calmly turned to his travel buddy, clicking and gesturing in my direction animatedly whilst his partner proceeded to give me an oh so withering look over his shoulder.
I was unphased.
Even the beggars on the street do not take nonsense.
Why just the other day, one came up to me while I was waiting for the taxis and told me exactly how much he wanted from me.
She said, “Give me R5,” pointing at my bag.
I did not have that much change and was a bit put off so I shook my head, he would not leave, he encroached even more into my personal space and brought out a form with a list of signatures of other people who had given him R5 or more!
So that he would leave me alone, I counted out R3 in coins and gave him, he was not too happy and after waiting a few more seconds he moved on.
I am not sure how I am going to take to this place. A part of me feels like a rejected limb... bring in the medics!