What happens when you've made, "The Great Escape"?

It’s like a cloud that looms overhead, sort of like in a cartoon. It only rains on you. You move to the left. It moves to the left. You try run away. Bam! It follows you all the way out of focus. What on earth could I be talking about? Possible STDs I suppose? No, not quite. What I have in mind, is a little darker, a little less easy to cure, it occurs at the end of every year... none other than the looming exam results.

I believe they fall in the bracket of causes for depression, because as far as I can tell not one single fellow “Rhodent” can truly say they are in a blissful state of mind. Even though we’ve all ventured into our respective 2 month vacations; the truth is, we’re all a little nervous. This exam result indaba has really got me stressing. Even though we made a break for freedom come year end, we are all magically suppressed by this cloud.

Try explaining this to the parents, all you receive is a comment such as, “Well if you think you won’t pass, you obviously didn’t study hard enough” very disconcerting to someone with a fragile state of mind. So I made a sort of pact with myself, and so far it seems to be working quite well. Results? What results? Catch my drift? J

So in this empty void, we now find ourselves with an abundance of spare time; to reflect, to blog and to waste precious commodities like time and space. Some people have tried to find jobs, make some extra cash on the side. To those people, I applaud your efforts, they are already several steps ahead of the freeloaders enjoying their new found freedom.

But what does one do with 2 months of vacation? I thought I might conquer next year’s reading list (not likely but I said I’d try). Other than that, there are only so many cups of coffee you can drink with your friends, or so many movies you can watch. Only so many things you can youtube. What I found when I "Youtubed". Only so many jobs you can help with around the house (this all assuming that you are a freeloader like me and haven’t had the courage or the initiative to find yourself a time-sucking job).

 I think I might go into some sort of investigation on this, what can you do, with limited resources (i.e. cash), limited transportation (i.e. lack of drivers license, or car for that matter).  What is there to do for a freeloader in Pretoria? Probably the same as Grahamstown, who knows, we’ll have to wait and see, you can never get to comfortable. 

There is no place like home

Fun fact. I managed to spend about a week away from this tiny little town and in that week I caught myself saying things like damn, I left my shoes at home. Shock horror! Could it be that through the many Pick ‘n Pay runs for milk and rusks, or the constant wind rattling the window panes or the unpredictable sunshine on a cloudy day? Could it be that in the midst of all the Grahamstown chaos, I had found another home?

Of course they say that there is no place like home, and that home is where the heart is. And that’s true. As true as it can be when you really start to appreciate the things your mom does for you or the benefits of a fully stocked fridge or the beauty of your own bathroom. It makes sense then, that the people who doubled as my family, my home away from home this year would have the unfortunate ability to make me miss them uncontrollably.

My venture back to Pretoria had its bumps and bruises along the way, a ridiculous 9 hour delay at PE airport managed to plaster my grumpy face on for the remainder of that day and well into the night, as it was 11pm when we finally landed in JHB. This aspect aside the real reason for my venture was not to wait 9 hours and then collect a free ticket for future use, so long as it is within the next 12 months. No, it was to celebrate m old man’s 50^th birthday. And here I got to enjoy an evening with my wild and unruly family.

The family dynamics are confusing, when I try elaborate and explain that my Gran is a year older than my aunt and my other aunt is younger then my cousin people stare and a glazed look washes over their faces. So I stop and commit rather to explaining just how I cannot show them off in public. For one thing, my uncle had barely crossed the threshold when he asked me: “how man times have you been drunk this year? Keeping the family name high?” I could hardly respond positively to this when I was swept up by my other uncle (I have 4) and found myself under a deluge of questions like, “how is Grahamstown” and “how are the studies going” and “when do exams finish.”

Exams, the one subject I was desperate to ignore for my week of bliss, unfortunately, no such luck. But I answered the questions with appropriate answers and managed to save myself from embarrassing retellings of any other previous family gathers.

As devoted as my family is to having a good time this was only reflected in the mess of a dance floor and the two bloody noses that had nothing to do with a fight but rather overexcited geriatrics. No matter, my father’s celebration was going down in the books as one heck of success.

I could barely wipe the sleep out my eyes when I was back, back in Grahamstown, greeted by rain, wind and my second family. Only to remember that I had to get milk and it was raining, but it is Grahamstown, and although it holds someone of the people I care most about on this planet, you can never get to comfortable.  

Pedestrians versus, well, everyone

One of the things I love most about Grahamstown is that virtually everything is within walking distance (I use “love” loosely because there are times when it pains me).

Now this is great when you are a humble student on a very tight budget and no money for petrol, but the fact of the matter is that although you can roam around Grahamstown without the need to use an engine, people have cars, and they use them.

This brings me to the war that is constantly raged between pedestrians and whoever gets in our way. Speaking as an active member of the pedestrian society it really brings me joy to shout at passing cars when they drive down the street to fast, or decide not to use indicators or, merely to vent when the music is too loud. This may put me into a category of pedestrian road rage, and it’s a problem. What makes it worse is that it’s not just me, it’s everybody.

It is the reaction that we get which makes it so enjoyable to anger the drivers in Grahamstown. It’s our own personal form of payback; one could call it a silent army, whose ranks are unbeatable. We cause our damage the only way we know how. It is spurred on by the hundreds of pedestrian crossings littered all over town (if they not official – we make them official). There is absolute delight that spreads over every pedestrians’ face when they slow their walking pace over these zebra crossings, just enough to irritate the fuel cap right off.

The reactions vary, some just rev their engines angrily but they all know pedestrians were here first. The best reaction you can come across, and this is my personal favorite, is the “Sneaky Pushing Reaction Method”. Allow me to place it into context; picture a helpless pedestrian, abiding by the law and crossing where it is safe to do so. Along comes and angry looking car, ready for the show down. The pedestrian will not take this lying down and, as per army requirements, slows down their pace. The execution of “Sneaky Pushing Reaction Method” is then put into play. The car, gently edges forward, the pedestrian becomes slower, the car edges further until both parties are stationary and caught in a stare down. It’s not pretty to witness.

The war that we fight day in and day out is probably a universal one, it gets more aggressive further into town where the ruthless troops have no fear whatsoever. We make a united stand against anyone who gets in our way, donkeys, cars, weather you name it. It is unfortunate though, that there are those that risk their lives in the name of pedestrians around the world, but this is Grahamstown, and one must always look left and right (even on a one-way), because you can never get too comfortable.

"The City of Arses"

So Grahamstown is known as The City of Saints, and this is because of the obscene amount of Churches and Cathedrals hanging about. In fact, Grahamstown holds some ridiculous statistic like, “most Cathedrals/churches per capita”, whatever that means.

This awesome fact aside I have been very overwhelmed by the amount of donkeys which seem to roam free up and down the streets of town. Now I’m not sure if this is a small town trait, I wouldn’t know because chances of seeing a donkey walking about town in Pretoria is less then zero, you are more likely to see a police van. My point, and I do have one, is that these donkeys seem to have developed a snide personality and have formed political opinions.

What am I basing this on? Simple.

About 3 weeks ago I was dragged, against me will, to a place called Ntundo Hall (the spelling varies with each time I try pronounce it). The name is not important; it was the reason for this gathering which adds weight to my conspiracy theory. It was the Protection of Information Bill debate hosted by Grocott’s mail (Grocott’s Mail the Grahamstown news source; a blog topic in itself). The debate consisted of a whole host of people who were either politically inclined (DA and ANC reps) or there as an educational buffer. What got me was the damn donkey. Every time the poor innocent ANC rep started debating his point, from somewhere outside the Hall the rebellion started to call.  You kind of felt sorry for the man.

If that’s not enough, it’s the fact that they watch you, the donkeys I mean. If you making a quick Pick ’n Pay run and all you really want is your darn milk, their eyes watch you as you cross the road and make your way back to res. Sometimes if they are feeling really malicious they follow you. But they never get to close, just enough to scare you.

It’s the donkeys that get me in Grahamstown…every time I tell you, every time. But it is Grahamstown, and they are just a reminder to never get to comfortable…

Ciao for now,

Chev.  

In the begining...

I find myself sitting the city (if we can call it that) of Grahamstown, Eastern Cape, South Africa. Nothing exceptional about my whereabouts one would assume, but the point is Grahamstown seems to be overrun with strange occurrences and frustrating traits that make it one of the most entertaining and frustrating places to live it.

Let’s take, as a simple example for now, the weather. A seemingly harmless fact of everyday life right? Wrong! Grahamstown, for geographical reasons unknown to me, enjoys displaying examples of bizarre weather occurrences. In other words, one is quite likely to step out of your place of residence warmly glad for the day, as the Weather Man perceives chilly conditions. Several steps down the road, however, the need to remove as much clothing as possible is upon you as the weather has taken an abrupt turn.

Temperature fluctuations aside, precipitation has a hand in the confusion. Granted Grahamstown is in some kind of water recession but one wouldn't think so with the faint blankets that often fall on you when you have been promised a day of sun and happiness.

These rapid fluctuations will also affect your mood and it is rare that one can go through an entire day and not discuss the weather in one form of the other. With the weather dressing your mood, it is also difficult to dress your body. In the circumstance of 30 degree weather one hopes to prance up and down the street in a summer dress, alas, this right is often taken away from you by the gale force winds which sweep in and remind you that this is Grahamstown, and one can never get to comfortable.

Ciao for now,

Chev