Entering the car economy

When riding around with friends with cars, I always had the job of paying the car guard. Because I always had a purse full or R2 coins, and for some reason that was completely beyond me, people driving cars never had change. I never understood why. It's true that I hoarded change, because it was useful on taxis….but that couldn't be all.

And in fact, I realized this week that it wasn't all, when I was pulling out of the parking lot, and had no change for the car guard. 

For the past month, I have been driving everywhere I go, even if it's to the park to go for a walk. As a result, I go to places which are car friendly, I stock up, and I pay with a credit card. I no longer walk by the Yeoville market and buy vegetables for dinner for R8. I don't pick things up from street vendors, where I used to do most of my shopping. I drive to Fruit n Veg and put R500 on my debit card. In fact, since getting a car, I haven't drawn cash at an ATM, which I used to do once a week. 

I have become suburban! We hold the hope that no condition is permanent….

Entering the cash economy

I live next door to a 6 year old boy. He's lovely, and good company. We hang out a lot. For the past couple months, it has been more than a lot - his mother has decided he's now old enough to stay home alone after school (he didn't like after care, which was at his former creche), which, in practice, meant he came over to my place for 3 hours every day till his mother got home from work. We would do all the expected after school things - make a snack, read stories, draw stuff, play games, and so on. Usually, it was fun.

All that changed last week - as 6 year old - mother negotiations work, he's managed to get an allowance of 3 Rand each day (about $.30). This is enough money to buy about 15 sweets from the spaza shop across the street. So he now shows up at my door with both hands full of sugar-filled wrappers, and begins his after school sweets bonanza. This generally well behaved, fun, sweet child transforms into an unbearable, bouncing off the walls, hysterical, not listening sugar monster in about 15 minutes. I send him home right away, and he proceeds to watch television for the whole afternoon.

It just highlights the urgency with which I want to get out of Joburg before my sweet innocent little baby transforms into an after school sugar monster (it's only a matter of time). 

Passing Home Affairs Woes on to the Next Generation

I have been chronicling bits of my home affairs frustrations here and here (still no progress on the ID book, by the way). Now there's a whole new person to fumble through the system.  Fun home affairs facts with a new baby:

- The jury is out about when and whether double barreled surnames are allowed, but according to the Randburg supervisor on the day that we went, unmarried parents cannot register the baby under a double barreled surname; they must register it under the name of the father first, and then apply to have it changed (grumble grumble. Why?). So, this is what we did. Lord knows how long that will take. Double whammy, because her well meaning father registered her with my last name as a first name (meaning we also had to apply for a first name change - or my surname would appear twice). I wonder if it will be sorted out by the time she's in college?

- Abridged birth certificates don't have both parents name listed! 

- We applied for an unabridged birth certificate under the old name (on the assumption the name change would take Forever). This is supposed to take 6 weeks. That was 10 weeks ago. 

- To get a US passport, you need an unabridged birth certificate. After Much Hysteria from Grandmother, I'm petitioning the embassy to grant her US citizenship on the basis of other documentation; we have a meeting with them coming up in a few weeks time, will see how it goes.  I'm quite optimistic that they'll be sensible and efficient, in marked contrast to home affairs. 

- Grandmother and her Much Hysteria made me realize how far I've come since my first days of Home Affairs woes. I wonder if any research has been done on dysfunctional systems and zen?  

- Every expat in the world probably has to dealt with this. Family at home wants to meet new baby. Paperwork to let new baby travel takes awhile. It's hard not knowing what and how long and whether. I figure, if I can make it through this round of guilt, I'll be better equipped for the rest of motherhood.

- People in my situation shouldn't plan to take Baby to the US for the first 9 months, to be on the safe side. 6 months is pushing your home affairs luck. Remember, there are lots of steps involved in the process. 1. Register the birth and get an abridged birth certificate, 2. Apply for an unabridged birth certificate. 3. Wait. 4. Take this to the embassy to register the birth, and apply for citizenship and a passport. That's *without* a name change tossed in the mix. 

- The passport section of Home Affairs is rocking. She had a temporary passport from the time she was a couple weeks old, and a  full one well within a month. That's why we're going to India before we go to the US (sorry Grandma, life's not fair!). 

One more way the world is unfair

The Wits campus is a bit of a fortress. When people in South Africa talked about opening the doors of higher education, they certainly didn't mean it literally. As a visitor, you can drive onto campus in a couple different places. The nice attendant at the boom gate gives you a slip of paper, and away you go.  There's only one walking entrance for visitors, however; at Senate House. You must show a photo ID, and tell them where you're going. The process takes significantly longer than driving, and security occasionally calls the person you're going to visit. And the reason the security folks gave me for the measures were because there had been computer thefts on campus. Really. Who takes computers and leaves with them on foot? And not in a car? Really? 

Where to have a baby in Jozi

Okay. Last mommy blog post, and then we'll be back to the regularly scheduled programming. 

Genesis was amazing. If i have another baby, I'd like to do it in Johannebsurg just so I can go back. It's just a birthing centre, that various health professionals work out of; slightly different from hospitals. It was a fabulous place - the focus is on natural births (though they do emergency C-sections), you get a big, comfortable, private room, with a big bath, shower, chest of drawers, music, garden, etc. The food is good, the staff are *incredible*, and the experience is, all in all, unbeatable. Oh, and it is fully covered by medical aid, without payment upfront, or any paperwork.  And they have a full contingent of related services, from breastfeeding support to antenatal classes. I can't say enough good things about it. 

It's the only place I've ever had a baby, so I can't comment first hand on the places, but I do know people who've chosen other locations:

- Brenthurst and Park Lane. I'm lumping these two together, because they seem quite similar (though Park Lane has a 'stork's nest', which is handy). They're clinical. There's good quality care. C-section rates depends on individuals involved; no particular support or opposition to natural birth. You have to pay for a private room. It's generally functional, and not terribly unpleasant, but not an enjoyable environment. The bigger downside is that it seemed impossible to find any information about how much it would cost and what insurance would cover.  The paperwork headache seemed substantial and thankless.

- Joburg gen and helen joseph. Public hospitals. In general, these have gotten positive reviews from friends who had uncomplicated births and aren't looking for bells and whistles. In Johannesburg, service seems often as good or better in public hospitals than private ones, and c-section rates are actually quite low, since most births are attended to by midwives. Lack of capacity, in an area that's generally over-medicalised, has perks. If my insurance coverage weren't as good, I'd give it a try - I was more worried about the unknown than quality of care. I didn't want to have to learn how to negotiate a difficult system while in labour. Downsides reported is that they're a bit crowded, and you need to sort out all the extras yourself. 

Having babies in Johannesburg

Having a baby in another country has a serious learning curve. Having a baby anywhere is quite an experience….but when you add to it a new healthcare system, and no family around, there are stories! I'm sure all of this is completely obvious to anyone who grew up here....but it wasn't to me.

Things that I learned:

- Unless for some reason you have a high risk pregnancy, not only do you not need an ob/gyn to be your first point of call, chances are you don't want one. Find a good midwife. It is more flexible, cheaper, easier, more informative, less medicalised, and an all around friendlier experience. In the hunt for someone to provide medical care, I visited 7 different ob/gyns, and was unhappy with *all* of them for various reasons. Most of them were perfectly competent health professionals, they just weren't what I was looking for. The issues ranged from being too busy to talk to me during a 15 minute appointment, only having 2 free slots for appointments in the whole 9 months of my pregnancy, costing 20x what my medical aid would cover, trying to schedule in a c-section when I was only 20 weeks pregnant, would do the check ups but not the actual delivery, to being an hour's drive away. I was absolutely fed up in a search for an ob/gyn, really wondering how anybody in Johannesburg had children…until I found a midwife! It was such a relief. She was friendly, had time both for appointments, and to talk to me, explained everything, and had what I see as a perfectly positive and balanced approach towards natural childbirth.  I never looked back!

By coincidence, when I found a midwife, she came with a place to have the baby! More on that later...

- Depending on where you go for delivery, they come with lots of 'extras' - lactation consultants, ante-natal classes, and so on. I didn't particularly feel like I needed any of them (or was possibly too busy to take advantage of any of them), but other people I know would have benefitted from them. If you are looking for these things, pick a place accordingly. Otherwise, you'll have to hunt around for these separately....and hunting around for things is low on the list of things you want to be doing when you can't fit into any of your clothes.

- Getting decent information about what your insurance covers and what it doesn't is virtually impossible. After many hours on the phone, I gave up, and concluded it's  better just to save up a little extra money and cross my fingers.  I'm insured by Discovery, which is supposed to be about as good as it gets, and would be impressed if anyone had a different experience with other insurers.

- Being obviously pregnant is a fabulous conversation starter. It's as good as being obviously white on a taxi. This does have a downside (WHY do people think it's acceptable to talk to you about their hemorrhoids?), and the volume of unsolicited advice is astounding, and amusing, but the amount of good will is really lovely. 

- There are hundreds of lists out there of things you need for a newborn. You don't really need any of it, and even if you have all of it lined up, you're still going to have to make a last minute run to the shops, so chill. 

Where to go for baby shots

There are certain things that, no matter how long I've lived in another country, I never seem to understand quite as well as my country of origin. Examples: taxes, retirement savings, and health care systems. I didn't understand how much I didn't know about the health care system in South Africa until having a baby. The pregnancy and delivery lessons are for a different day. For now, the check ups.

I've taken the baby 5 different places now for her vaccines, and have now settled on Genesis, the clinic where she was born. Reviews:

- Meldene Medicross. It was advertised online as a public clinic, but in fact, you do need to pay, and was actually the most expensive of the places visited. The nurses are nice, but people weren't terribly clued up - I called to ask if I needed an appointment for vaccinations and was told no; when I showed up with the baby, I was told yes, though accommodated anyway. Otherwise, the place seems fine.

- Parkhurst public clinic. The wait was just over 2 hours, not bad, and there is a separate 'well baby' area. The downside was there was almost no communication about the baby's general health - more of an assembly line setup. For shots, it would have been fine. However, I was told that since I didn't live in the area, I couldn't come back, and had to start the baby's file at the clinic closest to where I live. If i lived the area, I'd probably go back.

- Bez Valley public clinic. I went twice, once at 11 in the morning, once at 7, and both times was turned away and told to come the next day (after nearly a 2 hour wait) because the crowd was so big. Others in the queue told me that this is a new state of affairs, but this is decidedly the most over-crowded place I went to. May be that I tried to go once on a week with a public holiday? Avoid at all costs.

- Yeoville public clinic. The lines are long, but they move fast if you arrive early. The wait was under 2 hours. The downsides are that the baby must wait with all the sick people, staff are far from friendly, and the xenophobia makes me irritable. On one hand, a good way of connecting to the 'hood. But with a 2 month old baby, just not quite what I was looking for.

- Genesis. The private clinic where she was born. A woman comes Thursdays and Fridays to give vaccines; you text her in advance, and she gives you a time slot. She's incredibly knowledgable, and visits for vaccinations have basically made a visit to the pediatrician unnecessary, because she's so thorough.  It's not cheap, but it's also not much more than health insurance rates.

Conclusion: Private care, in this case, doesn't cost much more than public (if you have insurance). If you don't, the Yeoville clinic was probably the best of all visited so far, but coughing up the extra for Genesis is worthwhile. I see all my principles slipping away with the arrival of the baby....

New City

She is why I haven't been writing lately. But now that she has a whopping 15 weeks of experience on the planet, I can resurface. She has already shown me a dramatically new side of the city; Johannesburg as a mother! 

Moving weekend

Moving weekend is always a particularly fun time to sit on the balcony and watch the neighborhood go by....there are always amazing things being transported down the street, usually by hand. Sometimes, the stuff itself is entertaining (Saturday, there was a wardrobe that had been converted into a chicken cage). Sometimes, the transport feats are incredible (on Sunday, 6 couches in a row paraded by, on 6 men's heads. I wonder who needs 6 couches, and I wonder how hard it is to see with a couch on your head). Sometimes, the stories created in my head are the highlight (a particularly masculine man went by, carrying a humongous heart shaped glass plate, delicately etched in flowers. I tried to imagine where he lives, and how it will fit in). 

Conflict of interest in action

As most people living on the east side of Joburg know, there is a particular dip in Observatory Avenue, near the Bez Valley park, where it's rather difficult to keep to the speed limit. The hill is steep, there's not much but park on either side of the road, it's quite a distance to the next traffic light - it's an ideal spot to go zOOm, for drivers who are so inclined.

Of course, Joburg metro discovered this, and sets up camp there pretty much every day speed trapping. I don't know anybody with a car who hasn't gotten at least one fine there.  It was a particularly strategic place for the police to set up camp, because a bunch of undergrowth from the park came right out to the road, making it impossible to see them from either direction.

Today, city parks went on a pruning spree. The whole roadside has been cleared, up to the fence. A rather disgruntled crew of metro policy were gathered in a nearby parking lot, no doubt trying to decide what options were available. I wonder how traffic patterns will change....

Spear/Smear of the nation destroyed

I'm not quite sure if I'm thrilled that art is still playing such a cutting edge role in provoking public debate, or morbidly fascinated that there aren't better things to worry about than the president's willy. For those not living in South Africa (or living under a rock), the Goodman Gallery has become The Place To Be in Joburg, when, in the savviest curatorial decision in history, they put up a Brett Meyer art exhibit including a picture of Zuma with his, ahem, hanging out (others have suggested that it could just as well be Vavi - this doesn't make quite as good a news story, though...). As an aside, the rest of the exhibit's quite clever.

The ANC's response was not quite so savvy; what was an opportunity to show a bit of humor and maturity instead sparked protests and court interdicts (which I can't imagine have a chance in the world of getting anywhere, except making noise in the papers....we were starting to get tired of Mdluli anyway). Given that South Africa has some of the strongest jurisprudence protecting satire out there, I'm not sure what the goal is (perhaps build support for certain presidential parts being covered by the secrecy bill?).

Anyway, it seems like every time these furors erupt in public discourse, I come away feeling very un-South African (maybe home affairs saw something to make them delay my ID book application). In very much the same way I feel un-American when the conversation turns to politics in Nebraska. I'm generally surrounded by 'leftish' public intellectuals, most of whom were strongly supportive of the ANC (and many of whom still are), while still being critical of the corruption, neoliberalism, materialism, and other nasties are now part of the ruling party. Whether or not I agree with their take on issues like this, I'm acutely aware of a complete chasm that exists in mindsets between them, and the ANC supporters protesting for the removal of the painting. I can't even blame this one on economic inequality, because I feel the same chasm when my mother starts talking about Sarah Palin.

In cases like this, you can't completely avoid the discussion of who's right (there's some sort of responsibility to public discourse to hash it out, at least until the newspapers get bored)....But at the risk of sounding like a marriage counselor, I'm not sure being right is the point (even though it's to know I'm right). The more important questions aren't battled out in the media...given all this, how can we still work towards all the things we do agree on? The current levels of unemployment are shocking whether you think the depiction of Zuma is racist of not. As the DA and Cosatu are at loggerheads about a youth wage subsidy, why is the discussion about the disagreement in means, instead of how to achieve the shared goal?

Soap Oils

I've been talking about soap making enough that it finally gets a post. There are plenty of online tutorials for how to make cold process soap, so I'm not going to repeat the basic information. I will, however, localise it a bit. There don't seem to be too many artisanal cold process soap makers in this part of the world (or, they don't have much of an online presence - or, I just haven't come across them yet); this surprises me, given that you can find boereseep at so many padstaals across the country.

I already wrote about where to find lye in Joburg; I'd imagine in rural areas, finding pure caustic soda is somewhat easier.

Some discoveries I've made on oils:
Coconut oil is tricky to get. It really does improve the quality of soap dramatically, so if you're tempted to skimp on it because it's hard to find or expensive...think twice. The exception is if you want to render your own tallow, which makes a reasonable substitute (though an even better compliment). If I didn't live in a flat in Yeoville, I'd do this more often - but without a place to cook outside and a massive freezer, it's not really worth the work and mess. So, I buy coconut oil from Windrose. I like that you can order online conveniently, in a range of quantities; if anyone has other suppliers to recommend (or wants to split up super big bulk orders), shout.

Sunflower seed oil is also tricky. It's a very common cooking oil here, readily available, inexpensive - and not the best for soap making. It's very good if kept strictly at under 10% of your base oils; but any more than that, and the soap tends to be too soft (and rumour has it will spoil, though I've never had that happen before). The exception is if you're making detergent, or laundry soap; a useful thing with used sunflower seed oil.

Most other good base oils are readily available and not terribly expensive. Palm oil is everywhere and used for everything. Ditto with soybean and canola, though they tend to be heavily genetically modified. Olive oil's predictably expensive, but available in bulk without much hassle; getting pomace is harder in Joburg, but can be found by perusing joints that press their own oil in the Western Cape (if anyone knows of good pomace suppliers in Joburg, please let me know). There are lots of fabulous specialty oils, like marula, avocado, and macadamia, that I always try and look for when I'm in the right parts of the country; I'm always looking around for recommendations if people know of great sources! But these are generally best as super-fatting oils, rather than bases.

Used cooking oil is fabulous for making run of the mill soaps and detergents.  I can easily get used palm oil from local restaurants; I just strain it, add some fresh coconut, soybean, and canola oil to it for a laundry soap batch, and it works brilliantly.  You can make soap with bacon grease and there's no smell at all; used cooking oil's just fine. It doesn't make A grade soap, but is perfect for general household purposes.

Some discoveries on soap molds:
I'm still looking for someone to make me the perfect wooden soap mold :) In the meantime, however, there are lots of good options. 1 liter juice (or long life milk) cartons work great; they're just the right size. I haven't managed to find an ideal plastic ware size/ shape. There seem to be more people making melt and pour soap than cold process in Joburg, and as a result, getting those plastic or silicon fancy shaped soap molds is relatively easy; however, I don't like them much, and would rather use a shoe box.

Out My Window This Week

1. The neighbors. Now that the leaves have almost fallen off the trees, the views into the flats across the street are unobstructed. Happily, I have curtains. Unhappily, most of the neighbors do not. I suppose there ought to be some sort of urban camaraderie in the guy next door smoking in his boxers while I'm sitting out on the balcony having my morning coffee. I haven't found it yet. It's too cold to be eating breakfast outside anyway.

2. The Jesus Mobile. There has been a very large, bright blue combi driving around, with a life sized Jesus and megaphone on top, playing gospel music. I don't know where it comes from, but it goes by about twice a day.

3. The sun! I'm on the south side of the building, which means as winter comes, I get more direct sunlight.  First thing in the morning, it's fabulous!

4. The Rat saga continues. I'm quite happy to watch them dance in the gutters as I do the dishes, but apparently folks on the first floor have started getting them as visitors. Not so great. I wouldn't mind a good excuse to get a cat! We'll see.

5. Vuvuzelas. With the Pirates win last night, they're back with a vengeance. During the day, a block away, I feel content patriotism. All night, right under the window, is a different story. 

Re-loving The Troyeville

I'm now rediscovering Johannesburg - with a toddler! I figure the trial run won't hurt. A good friend of mine has an 18 month old boy, who is sweet, but active (and currently likes to throw anything that will hold still long enough; double points if it makes a loud noise). I'm now thinking of going out in new ways.

The Troyeville Hotel has been a favorite haunt of mine more or less since I've come to Joburg. The crowd is unpretentious, the food is reliable and good, and the place has something for every mood; you can take your grandmother there for a formal Sunday lunch, or your friends can take you out for a raucous party (with good beer). While I don't quite qualify as a regular (the true regulars are like permanent fixtures to their bar stools), I regularly bump into people I know and like. It's hard going wrong. But just how toddler friendly would it be?

As it turns out, more than I ever could have dreamt. It helps that it was a Monday night and we were there early, so it was very quiet. But one of the waiters picked up on the fact that my friend and I were trying to sneak in snatches of adult conversation in between chasing the bub from table to table, and whisked him off for a backstage tour of the kitchen. Baba managed to charm everyone so much that we didn't get nasty looks for leaving our paper table cloth in confetti around the balcony. We were kept well supplied with little plastic butter tubs to throw (which don't cause too much damage), and bub could do laps around the balcony as we ate. The pot plants were big enough to be an attraction, and too big to dump over/ spill out/ tear up. It was just the right level of stimulation to keep a toddler totally enthralled, and not overwhelmed.

Thank you Troyeville Hotel, yet another reason you're one of my favorite places to hang out in Joburg.

Reviewing Ramen

Braamfontein is trying to re-take center stage on the Johannesburg culinary scene; one of the new places that's sprung up is Ramen, in that little plaza between de Korte and Juta streets. They advertise free wifi, and I'm always on the hunt for hangouts with good food and wireless. They are few and far between in Joburg, and generally not the easiest to access via public transport. Melville seems to have a concentration of these joints (though often without the good food), but I'm convinced it's not necessary to schlep to the west side of town. I'm digressing.

So, it's possibly my own fault for expecting an authentic Japanese noodle shop....because authentic, it is not. The menu boasts of one noddle option, wraps, curries, and bunny chows. The drink options are limited to things that come out of cans (I was really geared up for a fresh juice. Or a ginger beer. I had to settle for Lipton's Peace Iced Tea in a can. Bleh).

The food was mediocre - made fresh to order, though it had too much sauce, clearly from a squeeze bottle, with no strong affiliation to Asian cuisine. The service was very friendly and quite efficient (yay!). Prices were good (R50 for lunch).

The clientelle was....interesting. Not quite what I expected. I spent about an hour and a half there, and of about 30 people who filtered through, I was the only woman (perhaps I was hyper aware of this, because I was working on a discussion paper on gender justice. But it was still odd - and true of the adjoining coffee shop, as well). Lots of businessmen, mostly middle age and in suits. I was also the only one working on a laptop. It definitely hasn't managed to cultivate the vibe of an inviting, hip place to spend some time and get some work done. I'll probably still be back, for the sheer convenience. But 44 Stanley still wins for a place I'd actually aim to spend time.

Lying Jackpot in Jozi

I have a slight obsession with making soap. But one dilemma that has tripped me up lately is where to get lye in Johannesburg. I've been through a range of options, but haven't been satisfied with any of them. Chemical companies will sell it, but you must go through a slightly obnoxious process of putting in a purchase order and waiting until they have stock, then collecting in random corners of City Deep, Krugersdorp, or Kempton Park. Large pharmaceutical suppliers are in the same boat, but generally charge twice as much. To make this even less convenient, you generally either have to pay a ridiculously large amount for small quantities, or get 50 or 100 kg bags (which I don't particularly want sitting around my flat. This is, after all, a dangerous chemical).

The one rocking soap shop I've found (which I actually love for many things) only sells cold process soap supplies in quite small quantities (it's great for additives, like Bentonite and Kaolin clay, and packaging ideas); 500g of lye won't even make a whole batch.

Builder's Warehouse used to stock lye, but quit several years ago. I thought I might have luck at plumbing stores, or industrial cleaning product stores, but have been met with blank stares, or directed to drain cleaners that have a bunch of other chemical stuff added. Part of it might be that I was asking for the wrong thing (sodium hydroxide, or lye, won't get you far. It goes by caustic soda).

Having just run out of lye again, and unhappy with my most recent supplier (a chemical supply company in City Deep, where I could get 10 kgs of lye in 1kg bottles for R80/kg). First, I don't particularly like their over-packaging (the bottles are a funny size, and I can't very well come up with any way of reusing them). Second, I think they're overpriced. Third, they're inconveniently located. Three strikes.

This morning, I was going to make another run through the yellow pages to see if I couldn't find a better supplier. I was getting keys cut at the Mica at Eastgate, and though I had asked there many times before and not found them able to either sell me sodium hydroxide or tell me where I could procure it, I swung by the plumbing section on a whim. In a dusty corner were 5kg buckets of pure caustic soda flakes, for R169. The manager assured me it was pure sodium hydroxide. Made by Resinate, based in Benoni. Packaged in a fabulously useful bucket.

I feel like I just won the lotto! Tomorrow I'm going to test with a big batch of soap!

Garbage Gutters

One of the top objections many people have to Yeoville is that it is dirty. The Dad fusses that it is 'unsightly', and the Yeovue News (when it was still around) used to bemoan the littering that took place. On one hand, it's hard to argue with facts. There is trash on the streets. When Pick-it-up doesn't make an appointment, there are piles of garbage on the street corners; and the day or two before garbage collection, the park usually looks pretty grotty.

The other day, The Dad made a comment about how it must be possible to fix it - he came up with a few technical suggestions, like placing big dumpsters on street corners. or distributing more bins. I objected, seeing the refuse problem as reflective of a broader issue of a too-high density area with lots of squatted buildings, all around poor service delivery, and high levels of poverty, all of which contribute in various ways to the garbage in the streets.

But more to the point, I'm curious about why this garbage doesn't particularly bother me, when other people have such a strong reaction to it. I see it more as a reminder of the work all of us need to do to make the world a better place than a problem to be fixed, as such. Coincidentally, I remember feeling similarly when landing in Mumbai 15 years ago...exchange students from all over were so upset by the garbage on the streets, which I just kind of filed away.

I see lots of reasons why cities need a good refuse disposal system - public health is important. But why are bags of garbage on the streets unsightly, when kids out of school a weekday aren't? Or racially segregated neighborhoods? Or all the cars coughing out pollution? Or the high walls and security systems in Houghton? Or the inability to see the stars because of all the light pollution? I'm not saying I love having garbage around; but I'm relatively confident that with a good development plan, management, and resourcing, that can be sorted out without too much trouble. I'm more upset about the high walls, which seem harder to solve, and on the whole, more damaging to public health...

Out my window this Friday

1. The candle light vigils (whatever they were for) have ended, and been replaced by bonfires, lit by the homeless people sleeping in the park. Winter is on its way, the nights are getting chilly. Homelessness is a problem; fire hazards are a problem, what to do?

2. Rooftop gym. 2 buildings up, an impromptu gym has been set up, and there have been people lifting weights every evening. Most of the equipment is improvised (paint cans filled with cement to make dumbbells), and most of the guys are buff enough that it doesn't look like they need much exercise....Still, it makes me wish we had a flat roof; like so many buildings around, it adds fabulous communal space to a building.

3. Sports week! One of the schools nearby (I'm not sure which one) took over the park next door for sports this week. They set up cones, obstacle courses, race tracks, and had the usual assortment of leapfrog, 3 legged races, and walking like a duck. It made the week noisier than most, but more entertaining.

4. Mynahs, mynahs everywhere. All the migratories have long gone; now we're down to the rough and tumble city birds that stick out the winter.

5. To let again; the occupation of the flat across the way only lasted for 2 days, now it's to let again. So much for my optimism about renting being easy...

The ID saga continues

Feeling unusually hopeful on last week Wednesday, I called Home Affairs to check up on the status of my recent ID book re application. More on the saga here and here. I always start with the toll free enquiries line, and move from there. Bad news.

Once again, my application has been sent from Harrison street, and not received in Pretoria. This is a process that should take 2 days, and it's been over 3 months. Call center conclusion? I should go to Harrison street, figure out how they are sending my application, obtain 'some kind of tracking number or something' and then find out what went wrong.

I mull on this advice for a day, check with a friendly immigration-lawyer-friend to see if he can shed any light on the situation, and Thursday, I call Harrison street directly, in hopes that I won't have to go there in person. There are 3 numbers listed for the office on the dha website. Between Thursday of last week and this Tuesday, I spent 11 hours (count them, 11) calling them (automatic redial on skype), and nobody picked up.

So this Tuesday, I called the cell phone of the regional manager. She was polite, helpful, and sounded like she knew what was going on. Apparently, what is taking so long is that they must confirm my permanent residence permit. Issuing my permanent residence permit took 6 weeks, and confirming it has now taken 11 months, but nevermind. I should go to the first floor of Harrison street, and ask to talk to the supervisor of the ID section, who used to be (but is no longer) Thandi.

Once again, hoping to save myself a trip to Harrison street, I phoned, and this time, miraculously, got someone to give me a direct number to the ID section (I feel like this is a heavily guarded state secret). I am told that the applications generally take 3 months to reach Pretoria, and I should phone back next week Thursday. I've had the 'phone back next week Thursday' conversation with DHA many times before. I think it's the Home Affairs equivalent of 'don't call me, I'll call you'. I feel rejected. And may have to trek back to Harrison street one of these days. At least when my belly enters a room 3 steps before I do, I get some sympathy standing in the queues.

Money is the new dompas

I was sitting next to the taxi driver on the way to Braamfontein this morning. In the ashtray, there was a a scrap of paper, with a doodle of a dog on it. A very artistic doodle. Not a photographic likeness of a dog, but you know those sketches that manage to capture the 'doggy-ness' of that particular dog, sometimes in more revealing ways than a photograph would? Anyway, I was enchanted, so I asked him if he had drawn it. It was like the floodgates had opened. The story of why he never studied art should be turned into a book some day. It was one of the most eloquent sketches of transformation in contemporary South Africa I've heard; I wish I'd been able to record it. I just remember snippets, here and there; the title is one of them...

....we were constrained then, by police, asking for our passes. Now it's tsotsis asking for money. Sometimes the tsotsis are criminals, street thugs. Sometimes they work in banks, and wear suits. Either way, they constrain us as much as apartheid did. I still wonder if my son could become an artist in South Africa.
......before it was the whites displacing us, now it's the Zimbabweans.

Every time I have conversations like this, I want it to be simultaneously transformed into a story, and an excerpt for my PhD....