Southern Africa Love Child

It’s February and love is in the air – at least for the ANC and the South African media. The coverage of Zuma’s love child(ren) and those of other politicians is extensive. I spent the past week working in Cape Town, enjoying the odd juxtaposition of the ‘baby showers’ scandal with the commemoration of Mandela’s epic release from prison twenty years ago. The fair Cape was a welcome change from corporate Jozi. Everything there is more relaxed and a bit more hippie.

Work started off quite slowly this year but it’s predictably started to escalate. Despite the deluge of emails, I had the chance to catch up with good friends which was great. Chris took me on a suitably strenuous two hour run up and around Silvermine from Muizenberg, followed by a swim and laze on the beach. We went for dinner in Stellenbosch another evening. Not to mention outdoor Antony and Cleopatra in Wynberg with my cousin (I really didn’t follow most of the plot, admittedly), an early morning solo beach walk in secluded Kommetjie, and a visit to a huge protea export warehouse with a superb view over the docklands.


I keep on telling people that I’ve only been here four months, but it’s actually been five. Coming back from Cape Town, I even found myself using the phrase ‘going home’. It feels kind of good, actually. Jozi is growing on me. I’m trying to convince myself to do less, or at least do it more slowly. Two weekends ago, I went on this awesome public art trail, a first time ‘tour’ by the owner of the Spaza Gallery in Troyeville who specialises in community mosaic projects. It was just fabulous. I saw downtown Jo’burg up close for the first time: the grit, the urban energy. Afterwards we had lunch back at Spaza – an enormous quiche, salad and roast vegetables in their quirky little courtyard under dappled tree shade. I have to add that I am just loving leading an outdoor life again. The skies here remain tall and each evening sky is different.


What else? I’ve started ignoring my surrounds – a sure sign of settling in, political disengagement and general apathy. I try to avoid the Lonehill shopping centre apart from the gym, though I have to say that coming across a kitsch restaurant called Byzance, run by Aristotle and Ludmila (displaced former Balkans perhaps?), was quite special. I have applied for World Cup tickets (Germany-Ghana), in the spirit of everything happening here…but no word yet from the FNB bank whether I’ve got mine. Lastly, I also have to announce, with some sadness, that I think my worm farm has failed. I think worm farming and me are just gonna have to try reconnect at a later stage in life. The next trial is going to be the Bokashi Composter. My flat is filled with a lot of germinating plants – mostly herbs and a few vegetables. I enjoy coming back to them in the evening. My own kind of baby shower…