The Johannesburg Chronicles – Deel Twee

How’s it! Is it? Jay-key’s turned native, ya. Had my first taste of authentic South African cuisine in the form of atcha (spelling?). Imagine a spherical fried bake, split and filled with beef mince and mango pickle. Staple winter fare in the townships, I’m told. Delicious.
I’ll say this for the South Africans – they take food seriously, ya. We had roasted suckling pig for lunch yesterday. Roasted suckling pig. Tell me a training course you’ve been on where roast pig and pap were on the menu. And don’t talk about the fillet steak I had for dinner. Tonight’s offering was Durban-style chicken curry washed down with a dry Nederburg white. As it’s Friday, a band was playing in the restaurant. Think Spinal Tap on Prosac singing Hotel California and you would not even be close.
My inability to speak any African language is a source of amusement to the hotel staff. They look at me; smile and shake their heads as if to say “Poor thing. She only look black”. The restaurant staff have collectively decided I need fattening up and keep slipping me extra portions of food and tasty tidbits I can’t pronounce let alone describe.
It was not until yesterday that I worked out when South Africans ask “Where do you stay?” they mean “Where do you live?”. That explained the puzzled looks when I replied “Room 102”. NOBODY knows where Trinidad and Tobago is. WTF? Is the West Indies Cricket Team THAT bad?? Brian Lara? Dwight Yorke? Nicki Minaj?
I’m already hooked on Isidingo, a local soap opera. Think Black, Bold and Beautiful. The acting is so horrendous I keep expecting to see a lumberjack running across the screen yelling “Timber!” The show is in English – with English subtitles – presumably a nod to no-one outside South Africa understanding a word.
Isidingo is partially assuaging my Coronation St withdrawal symptoms. Texted Hannah today for a Corrie update – only for her to respond that they weren’t watching it. WTF? Do my children have NO sense of what matters in life?
But seriously folks. I need to know if Nikiwe is going to throw Jefferson under the bus. And what is Sechaba up to? May have to investigate satellite options when I get home. Speaking of South African TV, I’ve noted the alarming frequency of advertisements for funeral insurance. Hmm. What does this say about South African society?
Loud, persistent banging on my door at 5am this morning roused me from my bed of ants. Jay-key was expecting this. Several of the travel advisories and blogs I read before my trip warned that tourists are frequently approached in their hotel rooms in the wee hours by men pretending to be security personnel.
So of course I opened the door, ya. I was greeted by what looked like a rugby prop brandishing a walkie-talkie (or was it a truncheon? Too dark to tell). He was equally surprised to see me – muttered something (in English, I think?) and scampered. Weird.
The course participants are so friendly I truly will be sorry to say goodbye to them. They surprised me today with a gift presented by the company Chairman. An Orient Express leather wallet, Company branded flash drive, and a beautiful fleece jacket. Wow!
In fact everyone I’ve met has been welcoming, helpful and friendly. I’ve given up trying to pronounce the black African names. Pointing and nodding works perfectly fine, ya.
They’re fighting over themselves to plan my weekend activities. “Jay-key. You mast see de ray-al South Africa.” I’m game, ya. The CEO very kindly arranged for me to take a tour of Soweto tomorrow. Here’s a sample of the tour itinerary:
“Visit Orlando Shanty town and see poverty at close quarters before heading to Orlando West and Winnie Mandela House”.
Gulp. What the hell have I let myself in for…to be continued.

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