Cape Town is a wonderful, rainbow place. The beauty that one encounters on a daily basis is awesome. Every day, driving in my car, taking the dogs for a walk, going for a swim, it is there. I suppose the lesson is that wherever one is there are beautiful things to see - one’s child, a flower, the sun or moon. But, suckers that we are, it seems that we need to be reminded often. It is the reason for all the prayers in Judaism - to remind us.
There is a feeling of home and of ease in this place that perhaps is personal, perhaps general, but there is a level of anxiety and tenseness in the background of the more “developed” cultures, that there is not here. Here the anxiety and tenseness is different. It is essentially economic, a growing country emerging into its identity, with many flaws, and not sure how it is going to turn out. But it is vibrant, alive and joy all around. People smile a lot.
It is also Africa, where things (mainly living - although in reference to the paragraph about the beauty, makes me think otherwise) jump out at you. Sudden, emergences that require you to be aware and awake and reactive in order to deal with it.
For example, at the robot (traffic light) on the way to Sea Point, there are a bunch of flower sellers. Now this is a major road. It is an urban section of the highway that joins Muizenberg to Cape Town labelled the M3. Now, this portion of it is very beautiful. It is near where the Kirstenbosch botanical gardens are. It is a very lush, tree lined area, with beautiful houses. Above us, tower the mountains that are the extension of Table Mountain. Lyn and I are going to Fri night dinner with my mother and family, and one of the guys are at our window.
“Please, baas. Make my day. Be my hero. I sell you a bunch cheap. Only R30.” Little do I know that Lyn buys 10 roses for R12 from the flower sellers that come to her door. Anyways, kindly Julian decides to buy a bunch after little hesitation. Remember, we are at a red robot on a busy street. He gives me the flowers. I look in my wallet, and I only have a R100 note. I wait for him to give me my change. He is “struggling” with it. Trying to get it out of his pocket. The light has changed now. People are waiting behind me. He shoves some money into my hands. I slip into gear and gun it.
I pass the money to Lyn, asking her to check it. I have an intuition. She opens her palm and there is only R30 in it. Fuck! I check in my rear view mirror. See an impatient white bucky behind me. Think ‘fuck it’! Put on my indicator and pull off onto the shoulder. Brakes up. Door open. And I jump out of the car.
Two more guys are onto me. “You want flowers, baas? I give you a good deal,” says the elder one, as the younger guy hangs back. Perhaps he is still an “apprentice”, learning the trade.
“No. I want my money.” The one guy continues to try and sell me a bunch. I am focused on walking back to the light. Looking for the guy. I am thinking ‘Am I going to recognise him? What if he decides to split?’ I remember he had on a orange coloured shirt. I vaguely remember what his face looks like. As I walk back towards the robot, these two are still harassing me.
“Who is it, baas?” Why does he want to help me? I see the guy, on the other side of this huge intersection. I stand at the pedestrian crossing waiting for the light to change. My “helper” calls the other guy. He sees us, and comes running towards us, playing chicken with the cars.
“What’s the matter, boss?”
Meanwhile, the other guy, my original helper, a rather ugly looking fellow, I realise, is still trying to sell me some flowers. “Give him back his flowers, boss. I give you a better deal”. What a prick, I think, trying so hard to screw his buddy.
My seller barks out some shit in rapid fire Afrikaans, telling the guy to back off in no uncertain terms. He slinks off. The young guy sticks around though.
“You only gave me R30. You said each bunch was R30. I want my change.”
“I give you two bunches though, boss.”
“I only wanted one.”
“Take two, please baas. Make my day.”
“Give me my money.” A quick interchange (in Afrikaans again) with the lackey. A crumpled up 20 emerges reluctantly from his pocket. I am walking back to my car as he hands me the money.
“That is only R50. Give me the rest of the money.” We are now at the car.
“Please baas, make my day. I give you two bunches. I give you another rose. Be my hero. Be my king.” Gratuitous flattery will get you what you want - unless the person is angry. And I was - angry and determined. What a bunch of shits one part of me says, though there is another, the angelic one that knows what these guys situation is. I mean, to be running after money from cars that have stopped at a robot, sometimes in the heat, sometimes in the rain. This is their livelihood, and they don’t live on much - financially. But as I said, I was determined.
“Take your bunch back. Just give me my R20.”
“I don’t have any more money for change, baas.”
“Then take the flower back and give me my R100.” That clinched it. He realised he had lost. He crumpled slightly, told the boy to give me R20. I gave him his bunch and we were off.
That is an African moment. But these moments come to you if you open yourself. Now, they exist everywhere, it is where your predator can hunt that you are most effective. Africa just jumps out at you if you let it.
