This past Saturday was the first weekend when I had absolutely nothing planned for the day. I was feeling very bold so I decided to sleep in to an unheard of 930! After waking I thought I would continue my audacity and order a pizza for the first time. In my professional New York opinion it was just all right. I don’t think the pizzeria would make it back home but it was edible. I think I enjoyed it more than I would have if I had actually paid for it. Yes you have read correctly, I got my pizza for free but not because of robbery but rather because the time sensitive sticker attached to the box had expired. So yes, in Africa there is the slim chance of “a free lunch.” After eating, I caught up on some reading while taking in the nice midday rays that are still quite strong despite it being winter. If there was no hecticness of the day I certainly made up for it in the evening time.
Let me start of by saying that unfortunately the evening began on the wrong foot. I went to draw cash from the ATM, which I have done several times before, and the machine “ate” my card. To put your worried minds at rest I was able to get in touch with TD Bank at the card was canceled. Hopefully I don’t run out of money. Luckily most places here take credit so I should be all right. After the mishap, the evening turned out quite lovely. We headed over to the casino, which like the States has shopping and entertainment in addition to the gambling. We went to a place called Vacca Matta, which was very similar to a nightclub back home. Which means in a nutshell, drunken fools attempting to acquire the rhythm of some over played track. We still had fun regardless which was evident by the fact that we stayed out to the wee wee hours of the morning (6 am).
Sunday started in the early afternoon for me while I rested from my escapade the night before. Before going further into my weekend I must address and reflect on the men of South Africa. Practically every person who I have encountered on my journey has signs of the prevalent violence in South Africa. Scars on the hands, stomach, face, neck, and head is a constant reminder that this is a very dangerous place. Ask any of them and you will hear some harrowing story of how this guy “had the blade to my throat” and I had to fight him off. One of the worst stories I have heard involved a women who had all of her belongings stolen whilst the criminals held a knife to her 4-year-old son’s neck. Needless to say, the hair on the back of my neck was standing when she finished telling me her story. With this reality of violence right outside your door, they still are some of the most content people I have ever encountered. It is possible that they are putting on a front for the “American Visitor” but I am skeptical of that proposal. They just seem to be happy that they are alive and breathing.
Nati (new friend) came and fetched me from the Y on Sunday to what he told me would be a “total immersion into real Black South African Culture” in a local rural Township. When I tell you it was exactly like the commercials asking for people to send money to the starving children of Africa, it was to the point. Driving into the village, poverty isn’t the word. Mud houses no bigger than tool sheds line the road. All types of livestock replace cars as the popular occupants of the now dirt roads. The amount of rubbish lying would convince any person that we were driving through a landfill rather than a community. We were headed to visit his friends to have what he called “a genuine Black Braai.” Little did I know, but this consisted of buying the meat from the butcher and than grilling it a few meters away on a barrel turn barbeque. The food was very typical and quite good and consisted of steaks and sausage. No sides were provided, just the meat whilst watching the early sunset.
While driving over to “unit 1” Nati advised me not to be scared or uncomfortable because everyone was there just to relax, enjoy the Sunday, and meet with friends. He put my mind at ease and the people whom we were hanging with drove home his thought-nothing but friendliness and acceptance. Just when I thought nothing could ruin my good time I was hit by a freight train. One of the conspicuous residents in his freshly washed car deciding he was going to speed down the small and bumpy street. As he accelerated, he hit a small bump and lost control a few meters down the road from us. He swerved back and forth desperately trying to regain control. The swerve was so bad that he could no longer control the vehicle and took out a pedestrian walking down the road. The noise sounded like something of a car door slamming but that was the furthest thing from what was actually happening. More like a car door slamming into a person. The helpless pedestrian was flung about 15 feet back into the grass. The car quickly drove off while 2 residents came over to motionless man, picked him up, and took him off to God knows where. The strangest thing about this was the fact that this happened so close to us and nobody was even fazed by it. To the point where I said, “did anybody see that?” one person casually said that it was no big deal and is quite common. I was absolutely baffled!
With the cold evening quickly approaching, we decided to head back to Nati’s house in a nicer part of town. On the ride back, we all got a good laugh at an obliterated drunk who was lying in the middle of the road with no pants on while his friends laughed and tried to get him on his feet. Once again I was told, “typical for a Sunday evening.” I chuckled and we pressed on. Going back to Nati’s modern looking flat we planned on getting back to neutral and what better way to do this than with a Michael Jackson’s greatest hits DVD and lounging with him and his friends. One noteworthy part of the evening when one his friends confessed his astonishment to be sitting on the same couch as a white person. He asked me if the feeling was mutual only to have me answer, “do you think I would have come to Africa if I felt strange sitting in the same room as black people?"-He was quite impressed by my answer. I was dropped back off at the Y and went to bed around 10 only to wake up at 4am and not being able to sleep. It was very strange because I haven’t done that since I was getting over my jet lag a month ago. I had a drink of water, read a few chapters, and finally dozed back off.
The preview for my final week is probably going to be a quiet one. We were originally supposed to be hosting a similar week long camp to that of the SOS camp. However, with numbers of RSVPs low, the program was scrapped. We have Street Kids Tuesday and Thursday, and I will be submitting my program for Mondays to Thys for approval. I will let you know how the submission goes. Thanks to all those who have continued to show interest in my journey! -Chris
) says that these are my 2 sons, I believe it. It may seem hard to believe this writing and you may just say that I am “talking out of my hat” but I really do believe that she genuily means it. 
18 °C
