Home Sweet Home: A follow up response

I received a myriad of questions in regards to my new apartment. My response is as follows:

1) Yes, I have a bathroom. (See attached photo)










2) Yes, I do have a plan for evenings when I may arrive home late. My theory that if I can make it up the five flights of stairs (there is no lift/elevator in my building) from the underground parking garage to my flat, then I think I can make it up the spiral staircase.
Plan A: Walk slowly and carefully
Plan B: sleep on couch.
Plan C: sleep in car.

3) No, I have not yet fallen down the stairs or over the balcony. But, yes, at some point I probably will. To further follow up on that note: yes, I have medical insurance.

Afrikaans and Concord

For years I have been trying to learn to speak Xhosa, a traditional African language unique to southern Africa. It is predominantly spoken in the Eastern Cape but has proliferated in the Western Cape after generations of migration to the urban Cape Town and surroundings. However, I have been resistant to learning Afrikaans.

I’ve not been resistant because it isn’t a beautiful language, because it is. Nor because I don’t know people who speak it, I do. And certainly not because it doesn’t have practical use in South Africa, because it does. But, upon reflection, I realize this is because of my association with it and the inexorable cultural connection between Afrikaans and the Apartheid ideology and regime. I’ve had to examine this resistance more thoroughly as I spend more time here with wonderful people whose language and cultural background is Afrikaans.

I’ve realized that while I have little problem disassociating new-found friends with the Apartheid movement. (Most openly chastise Apartheid’s monstrous wrongdoings and most were very young during it implement.) However, I continued to be lodged in this connection with their home language and the loathsome actions of Apartheid.

I’ve realized (at least) one shortcoming of my prejudice. I have been unconsciously accepting of the evolution of the culture and of those who identify as Afrikaans. Particularly, I am sure, because it would be ideologically impermissible for me to associate with individuals whose values are aligned with what I regard as irrefutably detestable. And not resolving that internal conflict would create considerable discord in relationships that I value.

However, I’ve been unable to, in practice, detach the language from Apartheid. There may be some logical reasons for this if understood in historical context (Soweto: June 16th 1976, for example). However, as I reflect on it I am not sure that this association has any practical use. Demonizing a language will neither change the atrocities of the past nor will it lead to a more non-racial, peaceful future.

South Africa, as I and many others have said before, is a land of profound paradoxes. Another lessen I’ve learned is that moving forward, in the sense of social and personal change, requires developing and subscribing new meanings to old concepts. I think it means letting go of antiquated inscriptions while persistently remembering the atrocities of the past. Paradoxical, perhaps, but probably necessary... for me anyway.

The Little Things: Banking

I think it is interesting to take note of the little differences here in South Africa. It nearly took an act of God to get me a bank account here, but once I did I was impressed by the efficiency and security. One of my first impressing scenarios is the integration of technology with banking. The ATM’s offer a deposit service where cash is inserted directly into the machine, counted and deposited in real time (no envelope required). Not only do I have online access (as one would expect nowadays) but every bank transaction sends an SMS (text message) to my cell phone.
In fact, if I am getting cash from an ATM my phone will ring with an SMS from the bank letting me know of the transaction before I even get my money.

In addition, each time I log into my bank account via the internet I am sent not only a message but a “one time PIN” or OTP. The OTP is necessary for me to make any type of payment or transfers from that account, ensuring another step to secure my account. The new SMS system has taken me a bit to get used to, but now I rely on it, particularly since my balance is also sent to me whenever I make a transaction. So my balance is always available to me on my phone- brilliant! For a place with a reputation for being behind in so many things, including technology, I have been pretty impressed.

The Spirits Move in Circles

I, feeling a little embarrassed for noticing, commented on the fact that I person I was introduced to didn’t look or sound anything like the ethnic and cultural background of her cousin. It is the accent that always gives the most information as to a South African’s cultural background. It has taken me a while, but now I am fairly good at recognizing the different accents. My friend smiled in recognition of my ability to differentiate the woman’s accent. And then, my friend who is the perpetual joker, had a really wonderful response.

It all has to do with circles, he told me. He explained that the two women are cousins because during introductions and the initial conversation, an extended family history is provided. One may start introductions with providing a first name, but then continue on to a surname, clan name and even deeper into ones ancestral history. Often, as with the two cousins, at some point a common relative is identified. Regardless of how far down the family lineage, they are then considered family.

My friend, simply and profoundly, physically demonstrated this by placing his two index fingers together to represent two individuals meeting and greeting each other. Then through the conversation as they speak the conversation moves out and away from each individual until finally the lineage comes closer together again until the lineage meets to complete the circle.

Needing to know more about the significance of circles, I began to ask around. I learned that the traditional rondevel (a picture is posted on my blog already), for example, is circular for both symbolic as well as practical reasons. The rondeval represents the circular nature of life. Spirits also are understood to move in circles. The circular rondeval is supposed to be a welcoming space for the ancestral spirits to enter and move about. In African culture, life is understood to be circular in the sense that it is believed that one’s spirit returns to earth to provide ancestral guidance and support. The circle is also symbolic of an existence that is eternally intact with no beginning or ending, therefore unbreakable.

Home Sweet Home

OK, so your first question probably is: “Can she afford this?” The answer is “well, no, of course I can’t. I’m unemployed! I can’t afford anything.” Now that we’ve put that to rest, I need to say that this flat is a real treasure in a plethora (somebody please tell Joe Sears that I once again used plethora appropriately—I used it in his last annual evaluation in regard to his skills and he made specific note of my vocabulary) of dilapidated flats in my price range.

I actually really wanted to stay in, or at least near, the city. I searched high and low for a place that I could afford that had some of the luxuries I wanted. For example, a stove. Or perhaps a door that a two year old couldn’t break into. I then expanded my search to the Southern suburbs: Newlands, Wynberg, Rhondebosch, Constantia etc. They were all either next to the train, didn’t have a stove/oven/fridge… or really any space for one, or looked like they had been recently raided by the police or at least would soon. Yikes!

So I finally had to look a little further. Muizenberg is a little beach town about 35 minutes from the city. It is on False Bay. Until about the 1950’s it was a major destination for the wealthy, but once that fad was over it became a bit rundown and gained a poor reputation. The last decade or two there has been a lot invested in revitalizing the area. Now it is a becoming a vibrant surfers town. It isn’t city living, but the False Bay area offers a lot of fine eats and fantastic beaches. I think it’s a fine place to call home.

There are more pictures to the right... I just learned how to add photos to the blog text. I think my latest trend of fiascos with my computer has turned me into a techy!


P.S. The couch is a sleeper sofa…. (hint, hint)

Adventures in Mexican Cooking

I was really craving Mexican food. There are actually a couple of Mexican restaurants in Cape Town. The best is the Fat Cactus, which is in the upmarket Kloof street area in town as well as just south of the city. But being on a budget I thought I’d save a few rands and eat at home. After all, the fajitas are about R90(about $12) and making them myself will give me something to munch on for the next few days.

So I go to the store for a little shopping. I find tortillas. They are R50 (nearly $8!), but I figure I can make quesadilla’s and other things with them. So I purchase them. I then look for beans. Black beans or pinto beans will suffice. Unfortunately there is nothing like it. I do, however, find a can of “Mexi-Beans”. Unfortunately they are R23. A can of ANY other type of beans or canned product is going to be about R8. So R23 is very expensive. But I’ve already invested in the tortillas and I really want these enchilada’s now.

Of course, there is no such thing as enchilada sauce so I have to make up my own. I try to think about the flavors in the sauce. A bit of tomato paste, chicken broth, and cayenne pepper and other spices may do the trick. So there’s another R20 spend on ingredients for the sauce. I buy onions, sour cream (which isn’t really the sour cream in the United States… but that is a different story), avocado’s, and tomatoes. So by now I’ve spent nearly R110. But I am determined to make those dog-on enchiladas!

Excitedly, I start preparing to make the enchiladas. I open the tortillas. They are so old that they crumble when I try to pull them apart. If I had the gumption, I’d take them back. But I am worn down by my ambition for a homemade enchilada. I go to a different store. Amazingly, they have them for R29. When I bring them home, they are perfectly fine.

Next, I nervously look at this can of “Mexi-beans” and wonder what surprises lurk for me in this can. I examine it for clues. As I read the can I look to see where they were imported from. Perhaps Guadalajara? Even Los Angeles would make sense. But, no! They are imported from New Zealand. (Somebody please tell me how THAT works!). Now I’m getting nervous. I open them to find pinto beans that seem to be seasoned with a little Cheyenne pepper. Delicious!

I prepare the enchiladas and more than three hours after I started my quest for enchiladas they are ready to eat. I am ravenous with anticipation and hunger. Alas, they are delicious! But for several hours of my time and R139 I think I’ll go to the Fat Cactus next time!