South Africans.
We’re the kind of people that make you
realise that the universe has a sense of humour.
I come from SA… I guess someone has to.
Don’t get me wrong – I love my country. But
there are things about this beautiful nation that make absolutely no sense to
me.
Take Smileys,
Afval,
Walkies
and Jacob
Zuma for example.
I also don’t understand taxi-drivers, mopane
worms, Bloemfontein
and Woolworths
window dressers.
I’ve written about Cape Town before, but this
time – I decided to step back and have a look at South Africa from afar: As a
South African standing outside and looking in. You may think that I’m writing
this to someone who’s visiting for the first time, or to those who’ve been here
all their lives, hidden in a deep underground bunker and not knowing what the
hell is happening up above – but I’m not.
I write this today though with a heavy heart.
The biggest attraction in SA is SA. The whole
shebang.
From vetkoek
to Tannie
Evita Bezuidenhout. From Dali Thambo’s Poephol from the South to the dirt-lorry
guys who run for miles (who I think should enter the Olympics!). From Table
Mountain to the having a chat with a random stranger in a Pick n Pay queue.
The whole of the SA economy is based on the
supply of braai
meat, beer and rugby. In fact, as a South African, you have 3 chromosomes: X, Y
and Braai... Your cellular structure is made from biltong.
Right now, I’m sitting in a corner coffee
shop drinking a murky muddy Americano enjoying the warmth of a Monday Cape Town
morning. Somewhere in the background Brenda Fassie is melodically stressing out
that she is someone’s Weekend
Special. I am watching cars hurry by while bright yellow-vested Bêrgies
try slowing them down by pointing to tiny parking gaps you’d struggle fitting a
boiled egg into. There is a smoky braai aroma of sausage on a grill over coals
in the air. A seagull hovers close by hoping to pinch my sandwich and I tell
myself that one day, this would be 30 years ago.
A Bêrgie gives me a gapped-tooth grin. He’s
scored a 2 Rand.
To me, the only true friend you can have is a
Cape Town Bêrgie. Cape Town bêrgies love you. They listen to your problems and
ask for R2 in return. They will be your friend forever, as long as you have a R2.
They will find a parking for you for R2. They will wash your car for a R2. They
will warn you of traffic cops in the area for a R2 coin.
Excluding knowledge of Braai, Rugby and a
strong passionate dislike for all things government - my first rule about
survival in SA is – always carry a R2 coin.
Talking about rugby - it’s not true that the
All Blacks are the best at Rugby. South Africans are. New Zealand being the
best is merely an unintended side-effect due to SAs politicians sticking their
corrupt noses into things they don’t understand. Have a look at the Blitz-boks
for example: of the 5 international tournaments we’ve had this year, we’ve won
4 and came second in the one we didn’t win. That’s because politicians haven’t
figured out a way to screw it all over yet… But they will. Eventually.
Politicians in South Africa are a breed unto
their own. It’s like having an aging horny rapist uncle you’d sell your left
leg to disown, but your mum keeps telling you that he’s family – so it’d be
polite to acknowledge his existence.
Take the current drought for example. Some
Queenstown political-simpleton councillor stated that “The apartheid regime
built the dams too big – that’s why we do not have water”. Then there’s: “We do
not know where this lightning thing comes from. We don’t know what it is. We
will launch an investigation into it to discover what it is” (said in 2015). My
personal favourite is still: “While the honourable Mazibuko may be a person of
substantial weight, her stature is questionable.”
Then we have our brilliant sign language
interpreter, Thamsanqa Jantjie, who was the official interpreter for the late
former President, Nelson Mandela’s Memorial Service.
“I support basic salutations here,
salutations. Inside, joining in this week’s cigarette, inside to prove, and on
and on, to support. I would please to say from me to you, talking to you so
far,”
Incidentally – Afrikaans is the best language
ever created to cuss in. “Voetsek!” and “Poephol!” are mild watered-down
mayonnaise versions, compared to really vulgar verbal spicy spews that’d make
the devil blush and run away.
My reason for sitting here and writing this
with a heavy heart is because I’ve decided to leave.
Permanently.
As mentioned, I really Love my country. I
fear for the lives of my children and wife however.
I chatted to the café owner a few minutes ago
and he mentioned that he was robbed at gun-point yesterday. My neighbour’s home
was burgled last week. Every day newspapers deliver stories of rape, farm
killings, murders and hijackings. Unemployment is at a record high with no help
in sight. These negative influences on this country have become a mental norm
in our collective psyche- and that concerns me.
It took me some time to decide - a few years
in fact. The significant reasoning in my decision to leave is that I have lost
hope.
I live in the most beautiful country in the
world, with the most delicious foods and most amazing…well…everything. However,
alongside this heaven lives the world’s highest crime, the most corrupt
government, the highest stats in rape and murder, etc.
Heaven and Hell.
South Africa.
The universe has a sense of humour.
…but no-one’s laughing.
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