Pathetic Fallacy

On the evening of Monday, September 28th, the weather finally broke. After a month of perfect sunshine and warmth, the fates gave me just what I was looking for.

At 4pm the office shook with one lone rumble of thunder. My mood of the last week broke as the excitement of weather other than sun took over. I flung my arms around Tshepo who looked at me slightly bemused. "You like this sort of weather then, do you?" she asked.

As the office began to clear out for the day, Ntombi came upstairs to the Programmes department (from the Finance department on the main floor). "Do you think we'll get a full-on Thunder Storm?" I asked her. Ntombi looked at me like I had just spoken Greek (I tend to get that look here a lot. My accent hasn't softened enough yet). I asked her twice more, and just as I thought I was going to have to write down my question, her face exploded into a smile, and she mocked me: "thundERRR stooRRRm". Ntombi has the most infectious laugh, so I was able to add joy and laughter to my excitement.

The sky was dark on my drive home. I could see the lightening running horizontally across it. The dust was moving in sheets across the highway. Traffic signs shook and palm trees bowed.

I arrived home just as the lightening settled in on Lonehill. I sat on the couch, with the lights off and watched the wind's attack on our garden. The trees and plants were being whipped backwards and forwards. Flowers were pulled from their stems and were being lashed around the yard.

The thunder and lightening continued throughout the night. Between thunder, I could hear the dust being lashed against our windows. The air was cool, and comfortable for sleeping. No rain came.

This morning, there are trees down on the roads across the city. Power is out in spots, traffic lights out of order.

Yet, Johannesburg continues on. Jo'burgers find their way around the trees and through the traffic lights. Without any indication or any central organisation, they make their way through. Through traffic, through democracy, through life. It is a sight to be seen.

Marche Funerabe - Lento

For Papa, who promises me that he reads my blog regularly: I am listening to Chopin as I write this evening. As with many aspects of my life, I eagerly await your comments on my musical selection. It was lovely to talk with you and Grandma this afternoon; I am glad you are both well. :D

As I have long ago promised, I am working on a post centred around my position at NMCF. It is surprisingly difficult to sum up the project, but it will be done.

This past week I have caught a South African stomach bug. Erg. I had to refrain from traveling to Swaziland this weekend (which is such a pity as Swaziland makes me smile like few other places I've been). I have had some interesting moments the past few days though:

Friday, September 9, 2005:
I stood in Nelson Mandela's office. He had just left for the day when I showed up at the Nelson Mandela Foundation. Though retired, Madiba keeps his office there. I was meeting Jeremy, a Canadian who interns with the Foundation. He gave me a tour of the offices. The photos, gifts and paraphernalia were impressive. The most impressive part of the tour though was when Jeremy brought me into Madiba's office: on an end table was a lamp made out of popsicle sticks. It is lovely that Nelson Mandela keeps such an item so close to him. I can only imagine a grandson or daughter has made it for him.

Saturday, September 10, 2005:
I had been given Jack Milne's telephone number. Jack was my second host father, and a man so interesting I am keen to write his biography. On this day, I was eager to find his ex-wife, Dizzy. Success. Diz and I met for dinner and caught up on all of our news. She is doing very well, I am pleased to report. It felt lovely to have my dear Diz back. Being 10 years older than myself, Dizzy was always more of a close friend than a host-mother. It was also so lovely to have someone to talk to who could understand how easy it was to be captivated by Jack to the point of living a very absurd life for my time with him.

Thursday, September 15, 2005:
Microfinance Workshop in Bramfontein. I drove myself downtown. I DROVE IN DOWNTOWN JOHANNESBURG! It was exhilarating and my first time (I had only been driven by others prior to Thursday). When I left, rather late that evening, I knew that I could accomplish anything because I had driven myself out of downtown at night.

The workshop was enlightening. Our CEO, Sibongile (Bongi) Mkhabela gave the most interesting speech, and I am attempting to capture all the details in my upcoming work related post. She is the most insightful, impressive woman I have ever met. I am proud to work for her.

Friday, September 16, 2005:
AM: "Where is Gandolf?" We all noticed that we had not seen the cat in a while. He often gets locked in the garage. We heard a meow when we opened the garage door, but no cat appeared. When I went in further, I noticed that he was in the car. I HAD LOCKED THE CAT IN THE CAR ON THURSDAY NIGHT!!! (I swear I didn't do it on purpose; Gandolf is a bit of a Magical Mister Mistofelees, and can seemingly apparate! I didn't even see him in the garage on Thursday night, let alone in the car!!)

If cats could lift their middle claw, Gandolf would have done so to me in that moment. He spent the rest of the day safe by Patty's side.

My car now smells like cat pee. I suppose it serves me right.

Sunday, September 18, 2005:
After having finally recovered from the stomach bug (with much thanks to Patty who discovered and implemented my mother's BRAT diet), I was back to myself. Laundry, cleaning, studying all done, I met Diz for afternoon tea. We took David, her son, now 9 years old, to the Spur, which has an impressive play zone for kids: the usual McDonald's type jungle gym and one of those delightful blow-up bouncing gyms. One thing I love about South Africa (though this is eroding quickly) is the lack of rules. I WAS ALLOWED IN THE PLAY ZONE!! I had too much fun bouncing with David and climbing through the jungle gym! Yay!! David had much fun teasing me that I could possibly get stuck in the slide or passageways. I swear my father had a hand in raising that boy!

Banking and Such

Wednesday was one of those lovely, intense South African days. It includes many issues of a contemporary South African nature, so I will share it with you.

Without getting lost, I drove into Killarney Mall for a 9am rendez-vous with the bank. There were several issues I needed to clear up with my bank. Firstly, I had a bank account in the country that I opened in 97 and used again in 2000. I had left funds in the account for use on my return to RSA, knowing it was inevitable. Unfortunately, the bank had closed my account in my absence and absorbed my funds. I needed to get my funds back. After many attempts at other branches, a lovely young lady sorted me out. I should see my funds in 2 weeks. The next issue was the need to set up a new account. Unfortunately, RSA has often been used as a hotspot for fraud and money laundering. The South African government has enacted some extreme measures to counteract this abuse of their banking system. As a result, I have been unable to open an account in South Africa. Wednesday morning was no better. I was finally told that the only place that would be able to help me was the Bramfontein office at the non resident department.

Slightly downtrodden, I left the bank at 10 knowing I should calm myself before going into the office. I was stressed for a multitude of reasons. Mainly knowing that being without a bank account means that I will have to withdraw large sums of money at the ATM from my Canadian account and pay my bills in cash. As a general rule, I don't like to carry much cash in South Africa. The thought of having thousands of Rand on me is mildly terrifying. Stressful also is dealing with the bank. It's terrible to have to jump through hoops to simply allow a bank to hold my money. It's terrible that it is easier to rob a bank than open an account at one.

Alas, I wondered the mall for a while, in an attempt to regain my composure. Not quite sure what to do with myself, I decided to call a number I had found for Vuyo the night before. Vuyo is one of my dearest friends from Redhill (the high school I attended while on exchange in RSA). Vuyo was one of those people whose mere existence makes me smile. I had lost contact with him several years back and was not certain that he was in Johannesburg any longer. I took out my cell and called the number I had found in the phone book.

A man answered the phone saying something I could not understand. I asked for Vuyo and was told that I was indeed speaking to Vuyo.

"Is this Vuyo from Redhill?" I asked.

"Yes, this is Vuyo from Redhill."

"Well, Vuyo, this is your favourite Canadian exchange student."

"My God!! Jana!?! Where are you, what's going on?"

I quickly gave Vuyo a rundown of my latest news and we decided that we should meet for coffee that very night.

So it was that I was all smiles and joy upon reaching the office.

I chatted with Tshepo briefly before starting into my work. She agreed to drive me to Bramfontein to sort out my bank situation at lunch. I was terribly relieved (I didn't know where Bramfontein was, and was relatively certain that I would experience difficulty in finding it if I did know).

At 2pm Tshepo herded me out to her lovely Alpha Romeo and we drove to Bramfontein. Little did I know, Bramfontein was just a few neighbourhoods over and nearing the downtown core.

Downtown Johannesburg is one of my favourite places. It is alive. I feel alive when I am there. It is a truly African city, and home to nationals of countries from the entire continent. The shops and vendors are as exciting as the mix of languages you hear passing by you. The architecture is boxy and utilitarian with little bursts of flair hidden behind the grey and brown. There is high crime and even higher rates of absolute poverty in these parts of Johannesburg. It is not a part of the city that most of the people from the Northern Suburbs venture to, but it is worth seeing if you're in the area.

And this is where the head offices of many of South Africa's banks reside. I do recall much talk of the offices moving to the Northern Suburbs when I was here in 1997, but the hope was to revive the area. There is now a presence of security guards in the core to try to make the city centre safer. There are also government incentives to bring housing developments to this area so that the many illegal refugees in the area will be able to move out of the terrible conditions they live in, in abandoned office buildings, and into proper housing. The area does have a bit of a softer feel than it did in 1997, so I dare say that the efforts may be paying off.

The bank was a typical (though slightly rundown) environment. The woman who I was eventually sent to on the 3rd floor did take complete control of my banking situation, and I am assured that if I can find an official document from Richard with his physical address on it, I will be able to open a bank account.

Feeling quite pleased (and completely high from being downtown), Tshepo and I strolled back to the car. We passed several shops with very lovely clothes inside at insanely low prices. We also passed a 'spa' that had a full leg wax listed at R60. I assume that I will be venturing downtown on a monthly basis for a bit of aesthetic indulgence! (For those of you males in the crowd, a full leg wax in Canada runs on average at $60, and in the Northern Suburbs of Johannesburg, is about R145).

Back to the office we went, and I finished putting in the rest of my work day. I am presently working on a survey for the Goelama projects. Goelama is a Tswana word meaning nurturing and caring. The Goelama projects revolve around the care of Orphans and Vulnerable children who have been affected by HIV/AIDS. There are projects running in all 9 provinces. The survey is going to be used to create a progress report for the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA). I am combining an original survey from NMCF with a report from Development Research Africa, an NGO who has reported on the Goelama projects in various locations across RSA. This monstrous report includes several focus areas, and I have managed to approximate survey questions based on their report. By end of day Wednesday, I had finished drafting all possible questions from the DRA report and had 2 days to work those questions into the NMCF survey.

I left at 5:30 to meet Vuyo. I met him at Killarney Mall as I could not guarantee him that I would be able to find any other meeting place. Vuyo and I drank coffee and caught up on our lives since we last spoke. Vuyo has had one hell of a life, I must say. I knew that he had been on Big Brother South Africa, the first reality TV show in South Africa. This made him an instant celebrity and really shook up his world. The opportunities he was afforded after the show were amazing. He was able to travel internationally, and work as an ambassador for NMCF, of all places. Then there was the highjacking/kidnapping. While I did not want to press him on the details, those details that he offered up where shocking, and shockingly common in SA. Suffice to say, Vuyo's complete outlook on life is rather different from what it had been during high school. He is still one of the most wonderful men I have ever known, and I am keen to be able to spend time with him again over the next 6 months.

On Vuyo's front he is keen to take me to a soccer game and to have a friend who is just as keen about downtown as he is. A perfect match, I must say. ;)