Transkei Traffic Lights

I've just dropped Bob at the airport for one of the only two flights out of Mthatha today. Stopped by Transkei Traffic Lights on my way back.

All You Need is Love

While shopping at my local Spar on Saturday, I complimented an employee on his impressive apple packing skills. He gave me a big grin and said, "Thanks ma'am. Look, I wrote something too." I had to take a few steps back to read it.

Even in Mauritius...

We stopped over in Mauritius for a bit of R&R on our way to Australia.


There was a bit of a mix up with our car hire booking. 

"Don't worry", says the man (in a delicious French accent), "I have another vehicle for you. And it's in a higher bracket than you booked, and you pay no more, okay?" 

"Okay," we say.

At least we can be grateful it's not white.

You want WHAT?

I'm sure you'll agree that trying to get the copy of a document certified can be a tad inconvenient.

Mthatha takes this inconvenience to a whole new level...

Off I go to Mthatha Plaza to do a few chores, including buying a Pilates mat (Don't ask.  I'll tell you when the pain subsides).  I pop into the first bank I see - ABSA.  Nope, they won't certify my copy, they only do internal bank stuff.  I told them that Standard Bank does it.  Fine, they said, go to Standard Bank.

But they won't do it either.

Me: But they do it in Cape Town.
Her: Well, we don't do it here.
Me: Then where must I go?
Her: The police station.
Me: Where's that? (Uh oh, here we go again )
Her: In Madeira Street

(Madeira Street is the N2. It also has a very complicated system of one-ways with three lanes and taxis double-parking as far as you can see.)

Eventually I find it, and a parking bay.  These entrepeneurial chaps have set up shop outside the cop shop, and were quite busy.  Also quite puzzled when I asked if I could take a photo.

Pop-up Print Shop.  Who needs Top Copy when you have a generator, laptop, scanner and printer?

Surprisingly, there was no queue inside the police station.  But no, the lady behind the counter said, we can't certify your copy.

Me: Seriously?
Her: Yes, we're a satellite station.  Only the main station can certify copies.  But you can go to a post office.
Me: Where's the closest one?
Her: Yho.  It's complicated to explain with all the one-ways...

I got there eventually, and was confronted with a scene much like this:

Bob took this photo of the Post Office on 7 April.

I spotted a door with a sign:  Branch Manager Tel:  047 531 1869.  Ha!  I thought, I'll just phone and ask which is the right queue to stand in.

Why was I surprised when there was no answer?

Then I spotted an employee at a desk helping a customer fill in a form, so thought I'd ask her.

Her: You must go to Counter 10
Me: But don't you do it here? (I'd spotted the rubber stamps on her desk)
Her: Yes, but you have to get a copy first
Me: I have my own.
Her: No, you must get one from the Post Office.  From Counter 10.
Me: But why? Surely my copy is good enough?
Her: No, you must get a copy from Counter 10.
Me: Look at my copy, you can see there's nothing wrong with it

She tries a different tack...

Her: You don't have to pay for the copy, it's free
Me: I don't mind paying, I just don't want to stand in a queue when I have a perfectly good copy.
Her: But you must pay to have the document certified.  One rand.
Me: I don't mind paying the one rand, but I do mind standing in a queue.
Her: You must pay your one rand at Counter 10. You can ask the people in the queue if you can go in front of them.

Yeah right. Like I'm keen to jump that queue.

Realising that this was going nowhere, I asked where else I could get my (now rather tatty) copy certified.

Her: An attorney or an accountant.

I knew that.

I find an accountant's office without too much difficulty.  Except that it's now 1.30pm and he's on lunch. The receptionist told me that he wasn't expected back today and there was no-one else who could help me, so I should try an attorney.  There is one in Leeds Road.

Hurrah, I know where that is!

In Leeds Road, a sign outside a block of flats proclaims the presence of an attorney.  After traipsing up and down stairs looking for signage, I ask a resident for help. Number One, she says.  Number One is locked. And silent.

As I head for my car, I see another attorney's office over the road.  Hope springs eternal...

Well, this encounter was well worth the hassle of the journey.  I met an incredibly interesting woman, who not only willingly certified my copy, but was happy to spend some time chatting.

Gogo, as her staff call her, started her working life as a teacher, but was forced to leave teaching when she got married (those were the rules back then).  She then became a nurse.  During that time, she started her family and studied law.  After leaving nursing, she worked in London, Cape Town, Soshanguve, East London and elsewhere, doing all sorts of law stuff, including writing parliamentary legislation. She returned home to Mthatha in 2009, vacating the position of Senior State Law Advisor: Department of Justice. She is a great-grandmother and her three children have settled all over the world.

I hope I have chance to meet her again and get to know her better.

Does anyone need a document certified?  I know just where to go...

More School Stuff

I've been spending a bit more time at the local primary school, standing in for teachers who are sick or otherwise occupied, and rehearsing for a Grade Project on the Rainbow Nation (more about that later).

Apart from the two hours when I had to occupy 100 (yes, one hundred) Grade Threes while the teachers were busy with inspectors and parents, my most challenging time has been taking the Grade 6 and Grade 7 classes for Maths and Science.  For three whole days.

I swear I only started learning algebra in high school

My home base for those three days was the Science Lab.  Bonus!.  When last did you see these things?

Nowadays you usually see bottles like this in display cabinets in pharmacies

These bring back memories of colourful and peculiar smoke and smells from my own school days

One of the teachers claims that her appendix is in one of these jars.  Not so sure what the toothpicks are doing on the shelf though.

Typical science teacher's desk. I particularly like the toilet roll.  My surname is apparently quite difficult to pronounce, so I am called Mrs G.  Or ma'am.

Remember the day each year when school came to a standstill for class photos?  And those signs for each photo where each letter had its own special shade of off-white?

The school celebrated its 20th birthday during September.  As you can imagine, getting this picture together in close to 30 degrees Centigrade was quite a feat in patience and discipline.

The walls around the outside of the school are painted green, yellow and black. For the first few months in Mthatha I thought that this was because Mthatha is an ANC stronghold.  Needless to say, I felt rather silly when it dawned on me that the colour scheme is a reflection of the school colours.

How cool is that!

Last Tuesday, during second break, Umtata High School Band came to play for the kids.  Here's a sample of what they played:

There is no band teacher at Umtata High - the pupils pass their knowledge on to the new band members each year. Very few of them can read music. Proof that if you want to do something badly enough, you will succeed.

It is particularly appropriate that the band is playing R Kelly's "I Believe I Can Fly'"

(When you watch it for the second time, have a look at the audience - singing and dancing.  The kids at the back on the right are in Grade Three.  They've just learned how to knit [boys and girls] and some of them are knitting while dancing.)

The more time I spend at this school, the more hope I have for this country.  There are some extremely bright young sparks coming through the system, and I look forward to watching them as they follow their paths to success.

Shopping and Signage in Mthatha

A chain store is a chain store is a chain store.  Or is it?

In Mthatha, the similarities to Cape Town stores are remarkable, except for some of the signage and niche-marketing of products. 

As usual, there are some signs which are quite puzzling:

I've heard of Briketts, but this is a new one.  This sign was mounted at the butchery counter, and I've yet to see the actual product.  Even Google can't tell me what this is.

Some products are unique to each location:

I had to smile at this one.  And of course I bought it.  It's jolly good!

I confess I didn't buy this one.  Nor did I buy any of the several other similar products in the same cabinet.

There are also products which you might not have spotted in chain stores in other towns:

Duct tape in Game. Camo duct tape!  Just imagine what fun could be had with cow-pattern duct tape!  Set-building could be raised to a whole new level...

There are very few food products and brands that I cannot find in Mthatha (chicken stuffing being one of them), and there are quite a few new products which I still need to try (madumbi being top of the list).

But there are some signs which I am pretty sure I will not see in Cape Town.  I was telling a friend about the Nando's sign which I saw.  Not to be outdone, she whipped out her phone and showed me these two signs she saw in the last week or so:

Ew.  I cannot un-see this sign.

This is my personal favourite:

Downtime

In Mthatha, Downtime is a regular occurrence - no power and no water.  We even have a 5000 litre JoJo tank in our garden, as do the schools and  many residents. 

But sometimes Downtime is a good thing.  Especially when it means Down at the Beach.

A few weeks ago, Bob was called to meetings in Port Elizabeth and East London.  He suggested that instead of staying at guest houses by himself, we (dogs included) should join him and make the trek to the seaside for a looong weekend.  Excellent idea!

So off I go to stock up on essentials. As I leave the bottle store, the chap helping me take my purchases to the car asks me if I own a B&B.  I tell him no, I don't.  "Does ma'am own a restaurant then?" 

Then I realise why he's asking.  The trolley he's pushing for me contains 1 case Hansa, 1 case Savanna, 1 box red wine, and 4 bottles Old Brown Sherry (just in case we needed to ward off a cold front).  To me, this is a perfectly reasonable amount of refreshment for a four-day weekend for two, with a bit left over in case of visitors.  Apparently this is not the case in Mthatha.

As the weekdays away were business for Bob, he was allowed to use company transport.  As I clambered aboard, my olfactory nerves were assaulted to the extent that my nose hairs were singed.  We had to endure five hours of Stale while we drove.  Stale cigarette smoke. Stale sweat. Stale junk food. Stale farts.

And it didn't end there.  On arrival at the shack, we discovered that a bushbuck ram had died in our back garden a few weeks before. The neighbours had wondered for several days about the dreadful smell, and eventually discovered the carcass in our garden. The degree of putrefaction was such that the date and cause of death could not be determined, but the length of the horns indicated that the buck was about 8 years old.

When we thanked them for removing the remains, they said there was no need - they removed it purely because they couldn't live with the smell themselves.

The spot where the bushbuck ram was found. 

 Fortunately that was the end of the bad smells, and the Downtime continued as it should - lots of reading, eating, sleeping, walking on the beach, laughing, playing games and chatting to neighbours, friends and family.

(In case you were wondering, the four bottles of OBs returned to Mthatha intact.  Unfortunately the same cannot be said about the rest of the provisions.)