Promenade cricket

Calling all Capetonians!

I declare it that we require a little get-together before winter kicks in and our lives suck for a few months.

It is for this reason that I declare it neccesary to have a cricket match on the Sea Point Promenade with all who feel like joining.

Garden cricket rules will apply. This means:
- one-hand, one-bounce (to facilitate holding of beer can)
- tip and run (so we can get the really good people out)
- electric wickets, but only if we have a few people. If we sort out two teams and have enough players for two batters then this doesn't apply.
- we will be using TENNIS balls

This will be on the 17th of April at midday. The first delivery will be bowled sometime between 12.30pm and 13.00.

You NEED to RSVP so I can see how many people are keen. All we basically need is even numbers. Guys and girls are welcome, as are kids, I suppose.

RSVP here: simonwillo83@gmail.com -- email me by like the 14th of April.

AND COME AND JOIN US!

The hashtag on twitter will be #promcricket provided by @6000

By the way, beverages are encouraged. Bring your own drinks and food and stuff.

Spot the SA tourist

Back when I lived in Florence (Firenze, to those of us in the know) I used to often walk around the central part of the city because I found it so stunning. My favourite was to walk around il Duomo - the Cathedral - right in the centre of town and listen to the excited batches of tourists raving about the stunning building.

Image from Virtualtourist.

I walked past groups of Americans, loudly exclaiming their wonderment "OH MY GAWD - this is AMAZING!"

British tourists, noses in guidebooks would quietly rave "Goodness Geoffrey, I can't believe it is so beautiful. Look at the ornate detail".

As I rounded the building I walked past a group of three guys, one of whom happened to shout as I past. "Fuck bru, that thing's HUUUGE!"

Yep - we're easy to notice overseas.

Whingy white woman

I spent this morning at home affairs renewing my passport – a slow, yet easy-to-do process. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with my form and photos when I got there so I just asked someone and was pointed to the right place. As I was sitting in the queue to get my finger prints done a white woman with a snooty handbag and glitzy fake stone things on her sandals began bitching at the woman behind the till at the cashier line.

In that nasal accent, so prevalent in Sandton City (even though the setting of our story is in Cape Town) she screeched that she didn’t know which queue to stand in - she had obviously reached the front of the wrong one. Admittedly, there was no sign saying “cashier”, but the presence of a giant till was a bit of a giveaway, and all the other queues were marked things like “PASSPORT APPLICATIONS” and “ID APPLICATIONS” which I found self-explanatory. She obviously didn’t.

Instead of asking someone where to stand, or reading the simply-articulate signs, she decided to have a whinge at the home affairs staff, communicate her queue-frustration at anyone within hearing distance and refuse to solve her problem by asking someone where to stand. I looked around home affairs and not one other person was lost, confused or had lost the ability to ask a question along the lines of “where should I go?”.

This Chardonnay-swigging, Woollies-omnivore tart was INCENSED that the queues and arrows were not displayed in, on her terms, a satisfactory manner.

Home affairs sucks. It is a shitty horrible place to be. It is drab, dirty and depressing and a mission. No one wants to be there, particularly on a Saturday morning. And it is like that all the time. Eventually I got to the point where I wanted to ring her pearled (not in the fun way) neck to stop her squeaky rantings which, as she got more frantic, were at a perilous frequency that made the dogs in the Cape Town city bowl begin barking. In fact I think some of the windows in Barrack Street were in danger.

Sit and deal with it! AND SHUT UP!

An interesting... party alliance

I am sure you are all aware of events hapening in opposition politics in South Africa. Recently, the Democratic Alliance, United Democratic Movement, Independent Democrats and Congress of the People all had a chinwag and decided to put up a united front to the ANC. Honorouble in its intentions, but it is unclear what path they are going to take - parrticularly in light of conflicting philosophies.



However, if we can assume for the purposes of this post that the parties agreed on policy - considering Cope have none, that shouldn't be too hard for them - there are a few options for them. One is a solid working agreement against the ANC - but, really, is that any different to what is going on now?



Another is coalition politics - this was key in wrestling the city of Cape Town from ANC control and having Helen Zille take over as mayor, leading to huge success in the Western Cape in the 2009 elections, where the DA now rules.



However, there is a possibility that the four parties will unite into one alliance and play the part of one party. This is what many people seem to be excited about, but I think we should be weary. As much as people may swear for a political party, many South Africans vote against the ANC. And with over 65% of the electorate, nabbing at least 15 of the ANC's percentage points of that is key in making us a stronger democracy.



Here come the mass generalisations...



Should the parties unite, serious questions will be asked as to who will lead it. None of de Lille, Zille, Holomisa or Shilowa/Lekota will want to be the numbers 2-4 in the party. In fact, Cope have been arguing for the best part of 18 months as to who will lead them. I fear that if Helen Zille is the party's number 1, black votes will remain with the ANC and the united effort will look only very slightly different to how the DA looks now, and then where will Cope's 8% of the vote share go?



No matter what happens with this alliance, white people will continue to vote for it. There is no alternative to the DA for the majority of white voters, as the staunchly conservative and right-wing FF+ is in bed with the ANC - who many vote against. Helen Zille is enough of a brand that pale folks will continue to vote for whichever party she stands with. I still think that Cope is the hottest and most underused political hot property in the country right now, and I am excited about what they can do if they ever come up with a policy, differentiate themselves and choose a damn leader - parties need faces - and although I reckon Lekota would initially be my pick, it SHOULD be Mbhazima Shilowa who is far more marketable - and if this alliance becomes anything, he should head that too. Holimisa comes with a lot of baggage - he was top dog of a homeland and turfed out the ANC, and quite frankly, you hardly ever hear of his party - even in the Eastern Cape. I know Patricia de Lille is well-known in SA politics, and I like her, but I am not sure she is enough to boost this party enormously.And her and Holomisa only have 8 seats in Parliament combined... whereas the DA has 67 and Cope has 30.



Fact: This alliance will only ever be a success if it takes black votes from the ANC. But I have a sneaky feeling that Cope have the potential to do that on their own anyway, should they ever sort themsevles out. Their scope for growth in the short-term is huge, wheras the DA's outside the Western Cape is not - their next best performance in 2009 was in Gauteng where they achieved just over 22%.



So if this alliance is going to be a success, it needs Patricia's continual stance on poverty and anti-corruption, the DA's organisation and balls, the UDM's (insert whatever you can think of) and Cope's potential.

To Cope in South Africa

Twitter was alight this morning with debates about Cope and their attempted, yet very-predictably-doomed-to-failure, vote of no confidence in President Jacob Zuma yesterday.

Some said that the no confidence motion was a desperate attempt at PR for Cope. This I would agree with - and I don't think anything is wrong with a political party searching for PR and new reaports - that's the way politics, particularly opposition politics, works. The DA does it all the time.

However, the motion was too late. A month ago, the country was crucifying Jacob Zuma because of his affair with Irvin Khoza's daughter - that included senior and junior ANC members and MPs who were criticising him. A week later it came out that he had no declared his financial interests to parliament and he got more criticism. Vavi soon launched into the ANC and the ANCYL ordering lifestyle audits. The SACP began a (nother) spat with the ANCYL who in turn made it clear that they want Gwede Mantashe replaces as ANC Secretary General by Fikile Mbalula. This was when Cope dreamed up their PR stunt - in this midst of this chaos.

However, since then, JZ went to London where he was castigated by that pathetic attempt at a newspaper - the Daily Mail - and all of a sudden people began defending him. Yes, even WHITE people! Cope's no confidence motion laagered the ANC and united - albeit temporarily - the party when it was looking to possibly splinter naturally.

And so the no confidence motion didn't do so well - for more than one reason. (EDIT - I am not saying it would have worked. JZ would never have been sacked, but a "succesful" result for Cope would have been favourable press, and hopefully a few members of the ANC would have turned on their own party)

Cope's biggest problem is that they have so many holes in their party. No matter what Cope says - meaningful, accurate or just made up - anyone can retort with "You still hanker after Mbeki" or "We may have problems, but you don't even know who your leader is". Cope also have no apparent policies, other then the forceful message of non-racialism which has failed dismally as two prominent white politicians have stormed out (ok, admittedly one is prominent because he has represented almost every political party in SA, and the other because she was the first instance of gratuitous white window dressing) . I remember Lekota going on about how BEE should be aimed at currently disadvantaged, not historically disadvantaged people. Well that message has never been communicated properly.

Cope's other major issue is that no one knows who runs the party. Is it Lekota (who has vanished)? Shilowa (who makes more noise than anyone else)? Mluleki George (who asked the offending question in Parly that caused Diane Kohler-Barnard to use the term I emphasise when the Sharks play rugby)? Or Dandala (whose face is on the election ballot, but that's about all)?



Cope's issues can be solved by simple marketing and logic.

- Firstly, stop the infighting and choose a damn leader. Do that today.And then put their face on an election ballot and in newspapers and TV.

- Secondly, there is a niche (more like gaping chasm) for a non-racial alternative to the ANC and the DA. Find it.

- Thirdly, get rid of all the Mbeki baggage. All of it. Dump it now. Otherwise people will point at you and bring it up all the things he did badly forever. The ANC has enough brand power, and political clout, to deal with it. You do not. Stop being the "We lost in Polokwane" party.

- Make your own policies. In many people's minds you are nothing more than the ANC with a different name and a nasty temper-tantrum like demeanour. Start shouting about HOW you are different to them, not just that you are.

Should life be a musical?

Myself and @ramblerclive had an amusing conversation on facebook a few years ago. This is how it went:

Simon Willo see? life should be a musical. then everything ALWAYS has a happy ending :)

Clive Rambler except Carousel

Simon Willo oh so there's an exception or two...

Clive Rambler yep... you seen carousel... her husband kills himself in the end and then they all sing"You'll never Walk Alone"... Lovely stuff
Can you tell I'm still in my pit of depression?

Simon Willo hmmmm... and in Moulin Rouge Nicole Kidman dies too...
Ok so maybe musicals wasn't such a great theme...

Clive Rambler Yes.. she dies while he sings "Come What May"
And in Grease Sandy starts smoking at the end so she'll probably die too...

Simon Willo And in the Sound of Music they still have to leave their home and move to Switzerland which is a really expensive country and they have no income because Captain von Trapp lost his job and Maria doesn't exactly have much work experience. So they will be homeless...

Clive Rambler Exactly... so they'll probably die...
And Evita dies...

Yes, Simon... why can't life be a musical?

Simon Willo In Jesus Christ Superstar he was crucified!
OMG what have I done?

Clive Rambler yes... he died too... but apparently he came back to life ... like the girl in Rent... so maybe all is not lost...

Simon Willo ok so maybe musicals aren't a good analogy for life.
let me think up another tactic... that one failed miserably.

Clive Rambler It was fun!

Simon Willo just to point out... Christine and Raul still hooked up at the end of Phantom, so they were happy, and Joseph's whole family got to move to Egypt and eat as much as they wanted during the 7 years of famine... so they were happy too...

Clive Rambler Yah, but she hooked up with a dude witha deformed face and with the way he sings he's probably gay... and lets not forget that Joseph's family first starved and the dad thought Joseph was dead. So he was depressed and malnourished. Eating probably made him die sooner... and Joseph wore make-up after meeting the Egyptians. Fag.

Simon Willo so there is nothing wrong with a couple of homos... musicals were designed around us. Joseph looked much hotter with make-up btw... Joseph's family had a bad run but still had a happy ending. At least his dad died with a full tummy and was happy knowing his son was alive.

There is no way Phantom was gay. He would ...never have looked like that if he was. He would have turned to plastic surgery sooner and wouldn't wear black all the time.

Plane noisy juveniles

There is nothing that can make me angry like a noisy child can. Recently, my flight was delayed and I spent an extra four hours in the airport, took off at 00:45 and landed around 02:30am. Awesome huh?

Add a screeching juvenile sitting behind me. I nearly had a stroke.

I fail to understand parents who let their kid bawl and scream and perform when others are stuck in the situation with them. Like an aeroplane or a train. In fact, I was on my way home the other day, sharing a plane row with a woman bearing very loud spawn which blatantly ignored the bellows being voluptuously expressed by putting her iPod on and drowning her very own irritant out - for herself only. The rest of us had to endure her product for the rest of our journey.

I don't expect draconian control of the products of one's loins, nor do I think it is realistic for a child to be silent all the time (outside my Utopia). I also get that kids just get pissy sometimes, and they are noisy things. But do I have a right to get angry and/or irritable when children are kicking up a fuss and the parents are doing nothing about it? Yes, I think I do.

I do not, for one second, believe that parenting is an easy job that can be done with any kind of flippant attitude that I am displaying right now. And I am not typing the solutions or proffering any kind of non-parent-scribed patronising advice - particularly from a person that has never been in charge of anything more important that a glass bottle of gin, nor noisier than a television.

The point I am making is that I have a right to be irritated when someone else's child is making a noise, the decibels of which are greater than a constantly-regurgitating Maria Sharapova snort.

So how can we come to a happy medium? My suggestion that children, other than going to school, are left at home until age 16 would probably not suffice, and is as extreme as letting them all run wild, like an infestation of noisy and unconquerable ants.

Is a happy medium a quiet kid? Is it an iPod for non-parents? Is it perhaps to sit people travelling with children together on an aeroplane? Is it more patience on my behalf?

Lest I offend all parents, let me make it quite clear that when I point fingers, I point them at myself too. I get as annoyed by constantly barking dogs, my neighbour's angle grinder (I swear, it must be his hobby to carve things up) and the noise of the extractor fan in my kitchen. I am not standing here as a paragon of quietus virtue, condemning all of those who breed or make noise.

What I seek is an active solution to prevent me from hiding your kids' oxygen masks, should there be a sudden loss of cabin pressure.

Hellish Patty

Helen Zille, Julius Malema and Patricia de Lille die in a car accident and wind up at the Pearly Door. St Peter says to them: "Guys, one at a time, why do you think you should be allowed in heaven?"

Helen goes first: "I have served my people well" she said. "I fought for their rights, I tried to improve their lot in life. I fought against what I believed was wrong and I fought for what I did believe in. My people respected me, they loved me, and I served them to the best of my ability".

St Peter thanked her for her answer and turned to Julius: "and what do you have to say young man?"

Julius replied in Pedi (which I have translated for you here): "I have served my people well. I fought for their rights, I tried to improve their lot in life. I fought against what I believed was wrong and I fought for what I did believe in. My people respected me, they loved me, and I served them to the best of my ability" St Peter didn't understand (because God only speaks English and Latin) but he nodded his head agreeably.

St Peter then turned to Patricia and asked her what she thought.

She replied: "Who in the fuck do you think you are? Now the coloured folks need permission to get into places? You think you're the Cape Town Radisson ne? You hear me? I said "Racist-sson! Are you shitting me, jong? I will go where ever the hell I want to and you Jews can't stop me"

And so Patricia walked through the Pearly Door. St Peter shouted "Excuse me Madam, that's not the Pearly Ga...", but Patricia couldn't hear because the doors had already closed, and she found she wasn't in heaven, she was actually in the Pearly Lift and it began to move down...

Patricia realised what was going on and began to panic. She didn't want to go to hell, but there were no buttons in the Pearly Lift to stop it moving downwards.

Suddenly, it stopped and the doors opened. Before her stoood Satan (who looked remarkably like Hendrik Verwoerd, but that's another story), and Satan said "Patricia, why have you come here?"

"I didn't want to come here you doos" shouted Patricia, "Your stupid assistant upstairs sent me down here by accident. Get me the hell back up there!"

At that precise moment, Patricia saw Hitler mopping up the entrance to hell, and he was being assisted by none other than our very own DF Malan. Patricia ran up and gave him the mother of all snotklaps and he fell down with a broken nose.

"Tell you what Patty", said Satan, "that was lekker to watch man. How's about I send you back to earth as a reward?". "Thanks, I'd like that" said Patricia. Satan snapped his fingers and Patricia was transported back to earth.

But Satan had dumped her on the N1 and she was hit by a taxi and died.

So she arrived at the Pearly Door again to meet up with a VERY pissed off St Peter.

In response to lame white people who think they live in some sort of reverse-Apartheid

The Blanke are Restless
29 Nov 2029

Shish-Lewey - There was an uprising today in the capital of the northern KZN Balungustan, Shish-Lewey (formerly known as Hluhluwe). The march, illegally led by Madam Helen Zille (still allegedly sharing ties with the banned Democratic Alliance) was in protest at the removal of English and Afrikaans as languages of education at schools located within the homeland.

Mike Sutcliffe, head of the Shish-Lewey Balungustan said: "We condemn the march by that communist Zille and her cronies who want nothing more than to cause disruption in our quiet and orderly country." I understand white people, but I will never understand why she makes so much trouble. It is not practical for the white people to learn anything in the languages they won't be communicated in with by their masters and madams."

Zille recently accused Sutcliffe of corruption within in the Balungustan and misuse of funds allocated to it by the government. She called for an emphasis on hospitals as the enclosed homeland was aiding the spread of easily-treatable diseases like cholera. Sutcliffe responded by having Zille arrested for the 17th time. It can't be long until she joins her white compatriots Tony Leon, Barbara Hogan, Patricia de Lille, Athol Trollip, Piet Mulder, FW de Klerk, Sandra Prinsloo and Dan Plato for a longer stay behind bars in Winnie Mandela Prison in Nelson Mandela Bay.

Marthinus van Schalkwayk, the man who oversees the de Doorns Balungustan in the Western Cape has been flown up on President Malema's orders to advise Sutcliffe on running a trouble-free homeland. van Schalkwyk has often used the army to control his Balungustan (the largest in the country due to the influx of white people to the Western Cape before the Freedom of Movement of Europeans act was enforced in 2017). Last week, during a protest in de Doorns, white political figure Trevor Manuel was shot dead and three others were wounded on van Schalkwyk's orders.

An interesting... bastard on the verandah

I am not the b ravest oke around when it comes to creepy-crawlies. I can remember at about age 8 getting my 3-year old sister to come and get the insects out of my room before I went to sleep. I have shat myself with regards to beetles, cockroaches, snakes, spiders, earwigs, over-sized moths. I turn into a complete screaming pathetic idol of uselessness whenever I come across one.

But there is nothing in the world - and I include famines, earthquakes and cluster bombs - as a crawling, evil, snarling, over-sized piece of rotten Parktown Prawn. These things are so ugly, but so tough that whatever wiped the dinosaurs out still couldn't finish them off. They are indestructible. DOOM and Raid just get them stoned, and then they care even less about eating me and infecting me with their horribleness.

And so I was sitting on the verandah last night sipping a cuppa with the folks when I lookjed behind me after I heard a noise (probably those bloodthirsty jaws snapping together) and saw one of the filthy buggers just behind my chair. I didn't move as much as leap the other side of the table with a chihauhau-like yelp for help.

I stood there whimpering while Wonderwoman (my mother) showed the guts not seen since Dunkirk in removing the enemy with a bowl and a piece of paper. With eyes focussed like Jean Reno in The Professional, she courageously went for the bugger, scooped him up with a deft flick of her hand - this while I was enduring a seizure in the corner, praying to God, Jaweh and Allah for my mother's protection - and plopped him over the wall. (I wanted it dead, but nothing kills them.)

Andnow, tonight, for retribtion, I am sure he is hiding in one of my shoes or something, ready to infect me with poison which will make me edible for him and his hungry chums.

Aaaaargh!

An interesting... integration of cities

In the last few weeks I have travelled to the four most important cities in the country: Pretoria, Johannesburg, Durban and Cape Town. (Ja you Bloem and PE okes keep it down).

Being away for two and a half years makes it easier to see differences in South Africa from then until now. This is not a new philosophy – if you watch our hair grow you will never think it is getting longer – stop watching it for a year and then see where it’s at.

And with this kind of perspective, I want to hand out massive kudos to Pretoria, which I feel is the most black-empowered city in the country. As much as people may disagree with the BEE and AA philosophies, we do know that South Africa’s future rests upon black empowerment, and empowered black people is a superb sign that we are heading the way of a non-racial democracy, which was kind of what we were aiming for when de Klerk managed to cross the Rubicon at the second NP attempt. Note that I mean black empowerment, not white disempowerment.

A few weeks ago I went to meet up with some buddies on the other side of the Boerewors curtain in Pretoria. I was due to meet them in a shopping centre there and as I strolled through I was amazed at the amount of empowered black people shopping. Understand that by “empowered” I mean earn enough to have cars, actually be a customer in a fancy clothes shop or restaurant, piss money away on R30 coffees and pretty much behave like white people. I am not talking maids and gardeners here, I mean people who are earning enough to live as what one could callously term “the way us white people do” (<--- that's a mass generalisation, I know. I take it back).

I was blown away. I honestly thought that Pretoria (which I last went to five years ago) would be one of the stumbling blocks of the country, where racial integration would really struggle. And how wrong was I? I apologise unreservedly for prejudging the people of the Blou Bulle Biltong City. The community in Pretoria deserves accolades for empowering the workforce, not just to be able to live in shacks and take taxis to the Madam’s house, but to be able to make something of themselves economically. Of the big four cities, I am most impressed with Pretoria. Veels geluk mense. I really think we ought to give credit where credit is due. In terms of empowering people, Pretoria is well ahead of the other cities.

And, knowing that Pretoria had done well (in my opinion, obviously), I schlepped off to the other side of the country down to the Cape where I expected all of the Zille plaudits to ring true, and some did. The city functions well, the robots all work, it is well sign-posted, it is clean, and I admired this over a chat with a friend at the Waterfront. And then it hit me... where do they hide the black people that aren’t waitering or cleaning the floor? And then I thought, ah, perhaps the majority of the population down here is coloured. But I couldn’t see any of them in the restaurants or shops either, unless they were working there. So I assumed that perhaps the Waterfront just didn’t cater to the tastes of the black and coloured people living in Cape Town – and then I realised that the Waterfront caters for the tastes of people around the whole bloody world. It is highly unlikely that Capetonian black and coloured customers are the only people who don’t like it there.

But I kept my eyes open wherever I went, which, in fairness, wasn’t an amazing amount of places, but hardly anywhere was there a decent percentage of customers who were not white.

I do try to take cognisance of a few things:

- I understand that what I am saying here is not a study. I walked through a shopping centre and looked at who as driving next to me. Not exactly foolproof

– I geddit. - I do not acknowledge that there is a smaller black population in Cape Town than in the other three cities to affect it that way. There seem to be plenty of non-white people working in the shops and as waiters and cleaners and car guards.

- I am not pissing over the blue-collar jobs out there. All work is honourable work, but I think we would be foolish to think that a housekeeper can get her children educated to the same degree as someone who can afford a car, overpriced clothes shops and a R60 green salad at some snooty eatery.

I am open to correction here. If anyone can tell me where the empowered black and coloured populations of Cape Town are, I will take back what would therefore be a false allegation.

(And obviously, I don’t mean that there are NO non-white people flittering around shops and restaurants in CPT, I mean there are very few).

An interesting... journey through the Transkei

(this image has been sneakily borrowed from www.everytrail.com).

Yesterday was only the second time that I have driven right the way through the Eastern Cape along the N2, which, implicitly, was my second trip through the Transkei. On the previous occasion I made this trip I was astounded at how the two main cities there, Butterworth and Mthatha (you may know it as bastardised colonial spelling of Umtata), were dirty, disgusting and had poverty etched on every building. Throughout this beautiful countryside, these two cities were eyesores; like specks of dirt on a plain white curtain.

Yesterday, though, prepared to go through these derelict destinations, I was pleasantly surprised to see how clean, brightly-coloured and functioning Butterworth was. The roads were in great nick, the shops all seemed to be buzzing, police were present every few hundred metres, there was no litter – Butterworth deserves some plaudits for the successful changes that have been made there. And because of this I was excited to see what changes had been made to the Transkei’s real metropolitan centre: Mthatha.

And was I disappointed? That would be this year’s ill-fitting understatement. I have driven 4x4s up mountains with easier manoeuvrability than the roads in Mthatha – ridiculous when one considers that the N2 going in and out of the city is in fantastic nick. There is more paint on my window-sill than the entire walled surface of the Transkei capital, and more rubbish lining the streets than Julius Malema can talk in a lifetime. Although there is a buzz present, I wasn’t really able to pick up on what it was as I was distracted by burnt-out buildings, abandoned shops and a melee of people scattered everywhere. This drew my attention away from the four traffic lights at the intersection which unfortunately requires a serious amount of attention to decipher what one should do upon arrival – the only bulb working was one of the red ones, when this disappeared, the implication is that it was green.

I find it barmy that money is being spent in the Eastern Cape, like in Butterworth, and I drove through roadworks aplenty from PE all the way to the Kwa-Zulu/Natal border, but somehow none of it has made it to a city where so many people live. And, within 100m of leaving Mthatha, the road becomes double-lane, has fresh paint, newly-laid speed bumps and so on.

It is a city that South Africa has forgotten.

Shame on those in charge.

An interesting... explanation for the lack of parking here

(Image courtesy of the BBC)

While Queen Helen sat in her castle in Cape Town and stared over the Land Of The Western Cape, she knew that she had problems. She summoned her concubines and said to them “go unto the rest of the lands and bring me the cleverest people you can find so that we can maketh the roadworks finished and build more parking because there is bugger all in Cape Town”. And so the concubines triumphantly left the Land Of The Western Cape and caught a bus to the wealthy kingdom of Johannesburg in the Land Of Gold. To celebrate, Queen Helen danced and sang in Xhosa which was weird because the concubines only spoke English and Afrikaans.

As they stepped out of the bus, they expected to see pavements made of gold, but they realised that the ground was indeed made of tar and bricks, similar to Cape Town, but, somehow next to the tar and bricks were funny lines painted in the road. Concubine Athol said “Gentlemen, what the devil is this?”. Concubine Joe replied “I do not know. Why do people paint lines on the side of the road?”

Then, because their arrival had been unannounced, Police Commissioner Cele got there, shot five concubines and then said “who are you chaps and why are you looking at those parking bays?”

“Ah” said Concubine Athol, “that’s what these things are” and he walked toward one of them. Before he had even taken a second step he was shot and then Police Commissioner Cele shouted “no sudden moves”. Concubine Joe said “We come in peace from the Land Of The Western Cape to find people help us complete the roadworks and make parking, because there are only like five parking bays in the whole of Cape Town and no one can actually afford to park in them”.

“Come with me” said Cele, “let us go to find these roadworks experts” and they drove on the N1 whose speed limit had dropped from 120 to 60 while it was in one lane because of road works. And then they arrived at the traffic department and met Jeff Radebe who said they should go back to CPT with one of his experts.

When they returned, Helen shrieked “NO! This is a woman. Women know nothing about parking. Go back and get me a man!”

So the concubines returned unannounced to the Land Of Gold but they never found someone to make parking because Police Commissioner Cele shot them all.

And that is why there is no parking in Cape Town.

An interesting... rewarding culture shock in CPT

Cape Town is so far removed from the other places I have been in South Africa that I can’t quite believe I am in the same country. As far as I can tell, the whiteys fled the highveld for Perth, London and the Western Cape: I find that the colour spectrum here is much paler than it is in Johannesburg, Durban or, most notably, Pretoria. I have had some interesting conversations with Cape locals and they tell me that it is due to the places I have frequented, which is a fair enough point of view, but I don’t find that the spread of people in the other three cities is selective to any particular establishments.

That being said, I don’t think that there is a more beautiful place to live in the world. I can understand completely why people who live here obsess over the mountain – I do and I have only been here for a week. Just driving around is a treat, and one can gaze from mountain to mountain to valley to wine farm – the only problem is the come-down when you smack the car in front of you.

I also find that this myth that CPT people drive badly is completely untrue. I have an KZN numberplate which basically means I have a licence to drive as slowly as I want, and people here don’t vloek me like they do in Johannesburg, nor do they drive up my arse, nor do they overtake when they shouldn’t. I am actually impressed. I don’t think people here drive exceptionally slowly either – in fact, people here drive as fast and break the speed limit as often as other cities in which I have lived.

Capetonians, on the other hand, are their own people. They differ greatly from Johannesburg and Durban people and I find that they subscribe to British social etiquette: basically, don’t speak unless you are spoken to, say nice things like “come over sometime” without meaning it, but be very polite. I don’t mean this observation to come over rudely, nor do I think Capetonians are unfriendly, but I think there is a different set of social manners down here, not a wrong set.

I think the beaches in this city are quite splendid too. Good god, Camps Bay and Clifton look as if they have been bleached. And the people on them look as if they have been designed by Dolce and Gabbana. I feel like a giant pale pig when I am within 250m of other people adoring the sun. Gym motivation extraordinaire... The fact that a portion of the population of this have their heads wedged firmly up their arse is kind of deserved with the beauty that walks around. I think that if I was that beautiful and rich I would do the same.

Oh well, I am off to go try and find some black people now. Chat soon.

An interesting... SA travel recommendation.

Something quite astonishing about South Africa is the reams and bucket-loads of places to visit, which are remarkably different.

For example, one can explore the dry Karoo, or go further south and connect up with the Garden Route.

A dusty and cold Johannesburg winter can be offset by the always humid, always moist Durban “winter” season where, kicking and screaming, those poor sods have to miserably bear temperatures which drop below 20 degrees for the week during which the winter hits its tumultuous peak (You can easily tell; the ice in your Jack & Coke doesn’t melt as fast as it usually does).

The wailing humidity and constant Vaalie-infested December heat in KZN can be dodged with a simple trip back the other way, towards the Highveld shopping district, where less humid but glorious thunderstormy weather can be located in Jozi or Pretoria – which are desolate every year between 16 December and the week before school starts as the locals flood toward the coast and piss off all the KZNers by driving at the actual speed limit.


And then there’s glorious Cape Town. Beautiful Cape Town. The Mother City. Wonderful Cape Town. Nowadays, I hear, one requires a passport to enter as the foreigners who own it all want to keep the South Africans out (exclusivity is key for celebrities). Lucky Michael Jackson died, so it is improbable that anyone is going to purchase Table Mountain anytime soon. The weather there is nice if you are English, or don’t actually know what happens the other side of the clouds. Oops! My bad. I forget there is a summer in CPT which is when all the foreigners come to stay in their swanky Camps Bay mansions and the rest of us are priced out. God forbid we get to buy things at normal value in rands. At least there’s always tik at a decent price.

You could always just go to and stay in Johannesburg, where the traffic ensures a brilliant chance to chill and do nothing for two hours as you attempt to navigate the four kilometres between you and 34789 shopping centres, where all you need is moisturising cream to sooth the perpetually dry skin you are bound to have.

If the big cities aren’t your thing, try Pietermaritzburg. You may have seen it on the way to Durban. You most definitely have a record of it in your mail box if you’ve driven through because of the confounding average speed cameras which ping you for going over 100kph. I have made a bigger contribution to the national GNP navigating that portion of the N3 than to SARS.

Why not PE? Maybe because of the thundering wind that never goddam stops. I can’t believe it is even safe to land a plane there. The runway, surely, must be wider than the entire set of six runways in Amsterdam. You would have to drive there to be safe. In a heavy car. Like a truck. Carrying concrete. And lead anvils.

Then there’s always the picturesque happy town of Knysna, so stunning you actually feel better just looking at it. And then you prance over the hot beach sand toward the Indian Ocean, and dip your toe into the sea as you gaze upon the scenic cliffs names The Heads. Then you realise the temperature of the water there and immediately phone 10111 before you eventually die of hypothermia.

Rather avoid that by going to nearby Plettenberg Bay, where you will be able to discuss, in depth, the crime in Johannesburg with all the eGoli expats.

An interesting... departure from Jozi

Before the sun woke up, we set off from Johannesburg and began negotiating our way through the roadwork-infested Gauteng highways with the famously beautiful Eastern Cape our objective.

It always amazes me just how interesting our country is to look at – even eyesores like Sasolburg must fascinate visitors to the Highveld, and that’s a mere blot on the stunning landscapes located outside just about any city in the country. Johannesburg seems to roll on forever, but finally we felt like we were making journey progress, and soon after we reached the Free State which often fields accusations of the most boring, flattest, straightest roads ever – almost an art class in perspective.

I, for one, think the Free State is beautiful. After spending time in London, one is constantly aware of how one should appreciate space, and the Free State offers plenty of it. I still love the barren expanses between cities and towns and can gaze forever at the horizon which seems further away in this province than at sea.

Should you ever tire of the constant farmland, fear not. Just short of Colesburg we headed off to drive along the wall of the country’s biggest dam. In what seems like nanoseconds, the flatness of the terrain becomes hilly around the Gariep Dam, and this is where we begin getting excited about our arrival in another province, the Eastern Cape.

Cradock is our final destination, and we will explore the areas around the town properly from the Fish River’s perspective with a canoe marathon going on. The river bisects Cradock and, before reaching the town, it swirls around farmland, under thorn trees, beneath bridges, over rocks and rapids and carries a load of excited canoeists down a stretch of South African water which has views which are enjoyed by so few so rarely.

One can fully value the beauty of South Africa with a journey from Johannesburg to this quaint little town.

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