Gated Estate Comedy

Before you read today's post, you might want to read this one which I wrote back in September of 2015, it includes details about a funny communication that we received from our estate management. 

Mr. Deep and I live in a gated estate. We live there for safety purposes as when we moved to Joburg we were told by the relocation company that helped us find a home, that we, as expats, had to live in a gated community. I am not sure if that was really true, but we followed their advice. While the amount of security around us (guards, electric fences, walls and security cameras) has taken some getting used to, we enjoy where we live and find the neighborhood, the security staff and the neighbors very pleasant. But we recently learned that while all appears copacetic in our hood there's an underbelly of sordid behavior, some of which involves the improper use of trash bins. More on that shortly.

Until now, the only means of communication from the management has been through periodic SMS. SMS messages which Mr. Deep and I find quite amusing.

Here are a few examples. 

And on the subject of exotic wildlife: 

Mr. Deep and I were away from home at the time of the "monkey incident" so we never saw the monkey or had a chance to shout at him. By the time we returned home the monkey had supposedly moved on. 

While amusing, these SMS messages did not, by themselves, warrant a blog post. But then the other a day, a comedic treasure trove of sorts arrived at our house when we received our first ever official estate newsletter. 

We've lived in our house for two years and never received an official estate newsletter before. So I'm thinking either we weren't supposed to get the newsletter because we aren't homeowners or there was a long gap in between the publishing of newsletters. This newsletter was a printed document stuck into our gate. I don't know who authored the newsletter but the tone, word choices and content all strike me as very funny and as good foreshadowing for future when Mr. Deep and I move to a retirement community in Boca.

Let me share with you some of my favorite passages taken verbatim from the newsletter:

"Rubbish bins permanently left outside homes: 

Here's another thing that's mind-boggling. A rather unusual habit has been creeping into the estate lately, which sees residents finding a permanent spot for their rubbish bins outside their property. This has never been encouraged and is viewed as lazy behaviour."

"Rubbish bins taken out too early:

Rubbish bins can only be taken out after 5pm on Sunday afternoons or on Monday mornings as previously highlighted. A growing number of residents have been taking out their bins on Sunday mornings, extra trash and all. This is quite shocking, especially since many people receive private and show day (note: a show day means a real estate open house) visitors. One can only imagine what they think of the estate when they see mountains of rubbish. Residents are really urged to read up on their estate rules. Fines will be imposed."

"Stealing rubbish bins space:  

More unruly behaviour. A number of residents and their workers have been caught on camera placing their excess trash in bins that are not theirs. This is not accepted. We encourage each household that needs more bin space to BUY another bin. Please take this as a final warning."

"Intoxicated Visitors: 

The estate has once again experienced some rather unruly behaviour, which saw an intoxicated visitor who was visiting a particular resident breaching a neighbors property. (note: this was NOT one of our guests for those who may be wondering) The incident was caught on camera and that visitor has since been banned. The resident who let the visitor in was also fined. We remind residents that visitors are solely their responsibility wasted or not and should no way infringe on the rights of their neighbors."

After perusing the newsletter I have a few questions.

First, can you really "steal space" from a rubbish bin? If someone has put his bin out for collection then isn't he announcing that he's done using it for the week? And no, I have never put trash in any bin but my own, but still such a harsh warning warrants the question. What happens after the "final warning" has been issued if someone is caught, on camera of course, putting trash into someone else's bin? Are they fined? Banned? Is a photo of this person hung on the tree in the center of the estate? As for the drunk guest who was banned how is this ban being enforced? Is his photo hung in the security booth so the guards can refuse him if he tries to enter? What if he's wearing sunglasses? Can he still be detected? What if he goes to AA? Is this a lifelong ban or can he be rehabilitated? If the estate has "once again" experienced "some rather unruly behaviour" can we please get the details of the previous incidents? Did it involve a bounce house?  Was the hedgehog safely returned to his loving owner? Or did he meet an untimely demise at the hands of the well meaning but "cruel to be kind" SPCA? And can we trust that the monkey really did leave the estate on his own four feet? Or was he a victim of something far more sinister?

I doubt we'll ever get the answers to these questions as the next newsletter isn't scheduled to be published until 2019. 

The Bubble

Just because I moved nearly 8,000 miles (13,000 km) from home doesn't mean I don't get stuck in my own little bubble sometimes. Poking a sharp object at the walls of your bubble requires constant focus and effort I think, no matter where you live. We all get into routines. We like to eat at the same restaurants over and over, we like to have friends who are similar to us and who think the same things are laugh out loud funny even if we've already laughed about those same things a hundred times before. 

In Joburg, being adventurous carries an extra element of complexity. Because of the crime problem, most of us, expats and non, spend a lot of time looking over our shoulders, staying put in our own neighborhoods and avoiding talking to people who could possibly be dangerous.  And that's the funny thing about moving to Joburg, you're automatically brave for doing it but you can easily end up living in a bubble surrounded by other expats, guards, gates and walls. 

Of course I want to be safe but I don't want to live in a bubble. So I try to take small steps on a regular basis to make sure I'm not getting too comfortable.  

Recently, I stopped to talk with a guy who has set up a "shop" on the side of the road near our house. He sells potted plants and paintings. I think his art was originally created to market the potted plants but it's my theory that over time he became more excited about the art than the plants because although the plants remain more and more paintings appear.

I had been driving by this guy almost daily for a while and wanted to stop and talk to him but there seemed to always be a reason that I couldn't or didn't. Back to safety for a moment, I don't consider stopping to chat with this guy to be putting myself in a dangerous situation as he is set up right along side of a busy road and of course I would only stop during the day, but I do think this is a good example of a situation that some others would avoid. If for no other reason than they might think we should not be encouraging this person to set up a make-shift shop on the side of the road in our nice community. Also, it appeared that he was living on the side of the road in a sort of lean to that he created out of found items. I am sure this is frowned upon by many of his permanent-dwelling neighbors. 

The man's name is Sisepho. He came here from Mozambique. I bought two of his paintings. The paintings are made on a white coated press board, similar to a shelf that you'd find in a closet. I asked him to sign the paintings and he said he didn't have a pen to do so, so I drove the three minutes back to my house, grabbed a sharpie and brought it to him. Even though he said his name is Sisepho he signed the paintings with another name which looks like S larlosmama. He explained why but I really couldn't understand the reason. He also wrote "30" in a few spots which I understood to be his age. 

The first painting I bought was clearly designed to help him sell plants. The second is a large painting of a snake which now proudly sits on the mantle in my living room. It's been about a month since I bought these paintings and I am loving the snake painting more and more everyday. To quote the TV shows on HGTV, this painting really "pops!" I asked Mr. Deep the other night if he didn't just love the snake painting and he replied that no, he really doesn't like it at all. 

The plant painting I bought.

If you know me, you might be surprised to learn that I'd put a painting of a snake in my house because I don't like snakes. But that's the whole point. The snake reminds me to keep getting outside my comfort zone. 

Snake painting. It pops! 

Good News Bad News

Mr. Deep and I have arrived back in Joburg. Things here are dryer than ever. Only this time it's not due to lack of humidity.

Good News: 
The flights were smooth and we were able to fit all of our luggage in the Uber.  The massive amount of luggage was due to a tremendous amount of shopping while in the U.S.A. Also, many friends made generous donations of items for the less fortunate here in Joburg. We received puzzles and books for the library at the Diepsloot Combined School and donations of goods for the Santa Shoe boxes. We were also given lots of kids clothing that I will find good homes for. 

Bad News: 
There was no water at our house when we got here. Meaning when we turned on the taps nothing came out. 

Worse News:
As I write this over 24 hours later we still have no water. 

Not having water when you return from flying half way around the world is right up there with not having any electricity on Christmas. It's poor timing. The only thing you really want to do after such a long trip is take a shower and unfortunately that was not in the cards for us upon arrival. 

Good News: 
We belong to a gym and we were able to shower there.

When you live in South Africa and you don't have water or electricity you assume there is some kind of outage that affects more than just your house. So I checked with our neighbors is to see if they had water. 

Bad News: 
They said they had water. This is obviously good news for them.

Good News:
Our neighbor kindly offered that we could come over and shower. As mentioned we went to the gym but it is still nice to have good neighbors who offer such things.

Bad News: 
Yesterday was Sunday so getting a technician out to examine the situation was unlikely.

Good News: 
Even though it was Sunday Joburg Water said they would send a technician.

Bad News: 
They didn't.

Similar to the Christmas situation Mr. Deep and I wondered if the lack of water had anything to do with an unpaid invoice. We pay the landlord and she pays the utility BUT sometimes the utility forgets to send out invoices and without an invoice people can't pay in a timely fashion. 

Good News: 
The landlord followed up with Joburg water and was told that they did not shut off the water due to lack of payment. 

Bad News: 
If they had shut off the water they could likely quickly and easily turn it back on. Now, we are left to wonder what exactly is wrong? Why is this problem only affecting our house and how long will it take to fix? 

Good News: 
At 1:00 p.m. (about 26 hours after we arrived home) security called and said Joburg Water was at the gate! I quickly buzzed them in and then went outside to wait for them. 

Bad News: 
Ten minutes went by and no one arrived. I thought maybe they were examining some issue in another part of the complex. But then security called again and said one of the guys in the bakkie (truck) did not have ID on him and therefore Joburg Water was not allowed to enter the grounds. 

I would certainly be willing to put my safety (as well as the safety of everyone else who lives in the estate) aside if the man without ID has knowledge in the art and science of how to get water running again.

Bad News:
Security does not see it that way.

Good News: 
We normally have running water. There are many people who don't. I have to be careful about who I complain about this problem to because I don't want to seem insensitive to those who live in shacks and who NEVER have running water and electricity. 

Bad News: 
We still don't have water. 

Things That Make You Go WTH

"I'm taking what they giving cause I'm working for a living."
     -Huey Lewis

I hope you are not too disappointed to find that this post isn't about our trip. I will continue to share our amazing adventures in Botswana and Zambia shortly. 

I once read that one of the hardest parts of expat life is being a "fish out of water." This means that when you live in your home country, you are used to your surroundings. You may not like everything that you see and experience but it's the way it's always been so much goes unnoticed.

When you move to a new country the water that surrounds you (remember you're pretending to be a fish) is different and you notice everything. Living in South Africa a lot of what I notice is sad and puzzling. I often see things and think that I understand the situation but I also doubt my conclusions because I'm not from here and what do I know? 

This week, we are having the exterior of our house painted. As it is the outside that is being painted the workers are not in my way but I do feel inconvenienced as I feel I need to be home while they are here working. The reason is the bathroom. I am worried that these guys will need to use the bathroom and I can't leave the house unlocked if I am not here because of the millions of horror stories I have heard about theft and crime. As head of Ops I am responsible for keeping the house safe and secure. Mr. Deep does not want to come home and find that his computer has been stolen because I found it necessary to run out to get my nails done.

It is awkward to have people working at the house and to behave in such a manner that clearly illustrates that I don't trust them. When I want to leave the house I go outside and tell the workers that I am leaving and that I have to lock the door and ask them if any of them want to use the bathroom before I go. I think part of the reason I didn't have children is because I don't find enjoyment in asking people if they want to use the bathroom. It's just not a fun conversation.

Today I was out for three hours and while I was gone I was worried about the workers and the bathroom situation even though I gave everyone fair warning before I left. Also, because I've been on this planet for 45 years I know that most men don't really care if there is a bathroom around if you know what I mean. And it's not like we have a huge garden/lawn where someone could walk a few meters away from the house and use a tree. If someone is "going" outside they are still near the house so my concern is partially selfish.

Back in the USA I did not give two seconds of thought to workers and their bathroom needs. Most of the time when we were having projects done at home I was at work myself and I didn't even see the workers except maybe to let them in each morning. I don't remember if I was concerned about people stealing. Maybe I took the time to hide a few valuables or to lock certain rooms? One big difference is that in U.S. workers would arrive at the house by car so they could come and go as they pleased throughout the day. If they were working outside and no one was home and the house was locked they could get in their cars and go somewhere to use the bathroom or get water or food or whatever. The painters working at my house here are dropped off in the morning and picked up in the afternoon by their boss They have no transportation. My bathroom is their only option.

When I first arrived in Joburg, I assumed that people who had proper jobs were quite fortunate given the high unemployment rate in the country. To clarify by proper job I don't mean Christine's part time job cleaning my house twice a week and I don't mean car guards who work for tips and have to pay for the privilege of working. By proper job I mean guys like painters, full time domestic workers, security guards, etc. However what I have come to learn is that most of these people are still painfully poor even though they appear to have
"good jobs."

There is a security guard who works in our complex who lives in a shack without electricity, heat or running water. Maybe it is his choice to live this way so he can send the maximum amount of money he earns home to his wife and two kids who live in another province but it is shocking to realize that someone with a seemingly coveted full time job finds it necessary to live in such conditions. Also, I am willing to bet I am the only resident who knows where he lives. Because I think I might be the only one who ever asked him. 

There is also a gardener who works across the street at a neighbor's house (not the neighbors whose house went to on Christmas Day, another house) and I often see him standing on a garbage pail (the kind with a big lid that is on wheels) to reach the top of the small trees that he is trimming. More than once I thought about offering him a step ladder to use. I have to assume that the people he works for don't know that he stands on the pail for surely they would agree that it is incredibly unsafe.  Or maybe they do know and they just don't care.

In addition to the bathroom situation I feel sorry for the guys painting our house because of their equipment. One of their ladders seems to be held together with wire and fabric and their broom, while not unsafe, it just pitiful. Is the painting business so slow that a new broom cannot be purchased? 

The reason I am writing this post now is because a few days ago I came home and saw the painters sitting out front taking a lunch break. Only they weren't eating. It certainly could be that they had already eaten but there was no sign of food and I hadn't seen any of them eat or drink anything on any of the days prior. So I offered them some food and they accepted. As desperate and poor as these guys are I think that if they had already eaten they would have declined the food but they accepted it and so I kept bringing out more and they ate it all. And from then on each day I have been giving them lunch because I personally can't imagine going all day without eating. 

And because I'm a fish out of water I can't help thinking that I could be wrong about all of this as everyone else is going about their business acting like everything is fine. Does the painting boss not know or not care that his guys don't eat during the day? Does he think the ladder is fine and is proud of the efforts to make it last? Or maybe the guys had already eaten and they were just being polite. Or maybe they eat a big breakfast and like to skip lunch and now they are annoyed because I keep feeding them and they are feeling sluggish all afternoon? Maybe it's fine to stand on a garbage can if you have good balance and have been doing so for years without incident? Maybe the security guard is happy to live in a shack? Or, maybe the workers are starving and scared that the ladder is going to break one day. Maybe the security guard is miserable and freezing. Perhaps the gardener will be injured one day when he falls from the can. I'll just keep swimming. 

A Christmas Story

Christmas Eve was a quiet and lazy day at our house. By afternoon, I had finished up all of my housework, beauty treatments and chores. Because I had no plans and it was a hot day (90F/32C), I spent the afternoon laying around doing nothing. Mr. Deep went to work for part of the day returning at about 1:30 p.m. at which time I was on the couch watching When Harry Met Sally. Sometime after the movie ended I was washing dishes and Mr. Deep yelled down from upstairs that the electricity had gone off. We checked the circuit breaker in the garage to see if it was tripped. It wasn't.

You may have noticed from reading this blog that the utilities often don't work perfectly here in South Africa. Even without load shedding, which we haven't had in a while, the power does sometimes just go off briefly in the neighborhood without explanation. Similarly, sometimes the water just doesn't work for a few hours. So the power going off is no need for panic. We usually just wait a little while and then it comes back on.

After a few hours when it didn't come back on, Mr. Deep went down to the guard gate to check to see if it was whole neighborhood that was out or just our house. He learned that it just our house that had no electricity. That is when we started to get a little nervous.

Mr. Deep called our new landlord, who is very responsive and reliable (the complete opposite of our previous landlord) to report the problem. She promptly called Eskom, the power company.

Our landlord called us back shortly to say that it appeared our old account (under the prior owner) had been shut down and that maybe that was the cause of the outage. The new landlord had set up a new account but hadn't yet received a bill. In South Africa utility accounts are set up by the home owner, not the tenant, and then the tenant pays the landlord who pays the utility company. 

By this time it was 5:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve, which is really the worst time to need any kind of important service from anyone, no matter where you live. But our landlord must have raised holy hell on the phone with Eskom because she told us that an Eskom technician would be out to our house within four to six hours. 

At this point, Mr. Deep and I were pretty jolly about the whole situation. So we wouldn't have electricity for a while, we were o.k. with it. We thought of all the reasons that it wasn't a big deal. First, we didn't have a houseful of relatives visiting like many people do during the holidays. Second, we don't full on celebrate Christmas and we have no kids so we did not have to face wrapping gifts or assembling little Junior's bike in the dark. Third, we have a camping fridge that we could plug into Mr. Deep's Jeep and run off the battery, so our food wouldn't spoil. Fourth, neither one of us relies on an iron lung to live (a positive in more ways that one) so having no electricity would not put us in harm's way.

We have many guards who work in our neighborhood, but our favorite is named Lunga (loon-ga.) He is just the nicest man and refers to me as "his very good friend" such as, "How are you today my very good friend?" Lunga came over to check on us as he knew something was wrong since Mr. Deep had visited the guard gate. He was worried about us and asked "but how will you wash?" But we assured him that we had water, just no electricity. 

In what seemed like a modernChristmas miracle, Eskom did send a technician. He arrived at about 7:00 p.m. He flipped the breaker in the electricity box (not sure of the technical name for this box but it is a large box located outside near the driveway that contains a meter and a breaker.) As soon as he flipped the breaker the power came back on. We were so happy! The technician drove away and within five minutes, the power went off again. It was such a short lived period that Mr. Deep called the guard gate to see if the technician had managed to leave the neighborhood but we must have just missed him. He was already gone. Mr. Deep called the landlord again and she said she would call Eskom again for us. She also, very nicely, offered that if we needed to go to stay in a hotel that she would pay for it. 

You might be wondering why as head of household operations Mr. Deep was handling all of this and I was busy doing nothing. That's because I am not in charge of bill paying or finances. And since originally we thought this problem had something to do with the Eskom account and the new owner, this issue was assigned under Mr. Deep's domain and once it was assigned he was doing such a good job of handling that it seemed silly to change project ownership.

Our landlord again reported the fault to Eskom and told us that if a technician was to return that evening, it would be before 10:00 p.m. as Eskom techs were knocking off work at 10:00 p.m.for the holiday. As an aside, people here love to use the phrase knocking off to describe the end of work. 

After our very short lived return of electricity, Mr. Deep and I were a lot less jolly. We began to lose hope that our power would come back on any time soon. And while it remained true that we did not need the electricity to run an iron lung, or to keep our food cold, we were beginning to really wish we had it so that we could run the air con being as our house was getting warmer and warmer by the minute.

You might think that because Mr. Deep and I moved to Africa or because we slept outside while lions roamed and roared nearby that we are very brave and very rugged. And we are, sort of. But when it comes to sleeping both Mr. Deep and I are obsessed with getting a good night sleep and sleeping comfortably. Yes, we like camping but not so much for the sleep quality and when sleeping in our own home we prefer sleep enabled by air con and lots of white noise. I am so obsessed with sleep quality and quantity that immediately when I wake up every morning I asses the length and quality of my sleep and then, based on that data, decide if I am able to have a good day (I am well rested) or a bad day (groggy and sleep deprived.) 

While we could have gone to a hotel as our landlord offered, we decided to stay in the house. First, we thought Eskom might come as late as 10:00 p.m. (not likely) and second, we had plans to be at our neighbor's house the next day at noon for Christmas lunch. That invite, which we were so excited about just a few days before, was now causing us to be prisoners in our own home. If we hadn't had the invite, we could have left the house for cooler pastures as no obligations would have kept us here. As a side note, I was beginning to get nervous about my potential inability to flat iron my hair before Christmas lunch. I really didn't want to show up to Christmas lunch as giant frizzy head.

10:00 p.m. came and went and Eskom didn't arrive (shocking I know) and so we tried to go to sleep. We opened up all the windows and doors even though it was still very warm outside. Remember, we have no screens in our windows or doors. I've never seen any screens in any window or door here in South Africa so I guess they don't exist. As soon as we lay on the bed Mr. Deep immediately said mosquitoes were buzzing in his ear. He tried using his iPod to drown them out which didn't work. He then tried using his iPod paired with his noise cancelling headphones. We sprayed ourselves with huge amounts of bug repellent. Mr. Deep tried sleeping in another room, I tried sleeping with the blanket wrapped around my ear like those pictures you used to see of someone who had mumps. I tried sleeping on the couch because I thought it might be cooler and less bug infested downstairs.  Needless to say we didn't sleep much and we both had and still have lots of mosquito bites which we wear as battle scars, evidence of our tough night at home. In addition to the bugs and being hot, I was missing the white noise that I usually get from my fan. Even though we live in a quiet neighborhood I learned that the fan drowns out a lot of noise such as very loud cats that seem to meow all night long, the rooster that lives across the street and starts crowing at 3:00 a.m. and the birds that make so much noise starting at about 4:00 a.m. every morning. I have not written about the birds in South Africa before, but trust me they are the largest and loudest birds known to humans and every morning begins with a symphony of screeching unlike anything I have ever heard before.

As I lay in bed, I tried to remind myself that millions of people in this country live in shacks and don't have air con or fans. I also know of some people who live in very nice and fancy homes here who don't have air con. I reminded myself that when I was a kid we didn't have air con in our house and somehow I survived. But clearly I have become soft over the years and I can't sleep well when I'm not completely comfortable. I am the princess of the Princess and the Pea. I am the princess of air con.

When we "woke up" we were cranky, we were hot, we were stiff and we were tired. At 7:30 our landlord called again to say that an electrician, Mike, was going to come over "just now." Just now is a phrase South Africans like to use meaning soon or within the next few hours. Mike had conducted the electrical inspection when the house was sold so he is familiar with us and our home. I am sure Mike was not thrilled to leave his Christmas morning festivities to have to deal with us. He arrived and tried to look at everything but Eskom had locked the electrical box outside. Yes, we could have cut the lock off but we would be fined for doing so. Lunga came by to check on us but he didn't have a key for the box either. So Mike told us to have the Eskom technician call him if needed to talk through the situation if and when a tech arrived.

At around 10:30 an Eskom tech arrived. He turned the power back on and told us that the problem could be one of two things. First, maybe the house was using more electricity than the breaker in the electric box was made to handle. Or second, the cable that runs from the electric box to the house could have been damaged by rain and might need to be replaced. He explained that this cable was the responsibility of the homeowner and not Eskom (of course) but that he could fix it on the side for us. We called Mike and he said he doubted the problem was the first issue, because we have never had any issues before, but he thought maybe it was the second, the cable. Luckily, this time the electricity seemed to be staying on. The Eskom guy kindly offered to leave the box unlocked for us (even though according to him it is illegal to do so which I'm pretty sure translates into give me some cash and I will leave the box unlocked for you.) With the box unlocked if the power did go off, we could at least have access to the breaker to turn it back on. Leaving the box unlocked would also allow Mike to return at some point to take a better look to try to figure out what was causing the problem. 

We were so happy to have the electricity (air con) back on that Mr. Deep tipped the guy $50 USD. For some reason neither of us had any rand on us and so American money was the best we could do. The guy had never seen a $50 bill from America before and he kept turning it over and over in his hands looking at it, not sure what to make of it. Mr. Deep assured him that the bank could covert it to a lot of rand for him.

Now it's Sunday and the the power has remained on for over 24 hours. We had a lovely Christmas lunch with our neighbors even though we were tired and covered in bug bites. Most importantly, my hair was very flat and smooth. The irony is we have a camping trip planned for next weekend so we will be celebrating New Years outside in the heat in a tent with mosquitoes. Should be interesting. 

Essentials that we needed access to we kept on ice in the sink. Apparently to us essentials are mayonnaise and beer.

Inside the camping fridge which we plugged into the Jeep.

The camping fridge

So you know I am not exaggerating 

Have no fear, Eskom is here!

Our beloved air con unit in our bedroom situated up high to rain coolness down upon us.

Preparing for lights out

Electricity box unlocked!

Full view of the electricity box

Bounce

In case you missed it, great news! We don't have to move out of our house. After we retained a lawyer suddenly the new owner was open to having tenants. It all worked out and it's a huge relief. We love our house and moving is such a pain. It is wonderful that we get to stay.

You know how when you are facing something possibly bad you tend to bargain in your head with a higher power hoping that things will work out the way you want them to?  Like in our case I was thinking, "if only we didn't have to move, life would be perfect." Well human nature is such that the minute your problem isn't a problem anymore you go back to your old ungrateful self and start immediately complaining about something. And that's what I am going to do now. Because there is one problem with this house.  It is located next to the clubhouse. When we first moved in we thought the proximity to the clubhouse was a positive because we don't have a pool at our house and there is a pool there. The problem with the clubhouse is that it is the epicenter of noise.

There are two kinds of noise that emanate from the clubhouse grounds. One is the weekday noise that comes between about 3:00 and 5:00 when every kid in the neighborhood from babies to pre-teens migrate to the club house for the express purpose of screaming. Every afternoon my house is filled with the sounds pool splashing, counting (for hide and seek), yells of Marco followed by yells of Polo, crying, shrieking, nanny's yelling at kids, big wheels racing by and more. I know what you are thinking. You are thinking these are the wonderful sounds of happy children playing. You are thinking that if heaven has a soundtrack then it is the sound of delighted kids. You are thinking how wonderful that they are outside playing and not sitting inside playing video games. You are also thinking that you thought I loved kids because I take the time to work at the Diepsloot school twice a week. I do love going to the Diepsloot school and I do love the kids there but I go for an hour at a time and 95% of that time is spent telling the kids to be quiet.
  
But okay I can live with the weekday noise. The weekend noise is far worse. Every weekend on either Saturday or Sunday (thankfully there must be a rule against booking both) the clubhouse is exclusively booked for a party. 

Some of these parties are adult parties that include drunken noise and music. These aren't great because they tend to go later into the night. But the adult parties are much preferred over the kid parties. Why? Because of the dreaded element of the kid party. The mother $^!^#%#$%% bounce house. 

An SMS warns us of the upcoming party

As party setup begins, Mr. Deep and I start peering out the upstairs windows or standing on a chair to look over our wall, like Gladys Kravitz would do if she lived here, trying to determine what kind of party it's going to be. Then, the moment of truth comes when we hear the high pitched sound of what we now know is a bounce house being inflated. The bounce house is usually placed inches from our wall it's inflated columns peeking over the top. It's then we know that we are completely screwed because nothing produces endless hours of screaming quite like a bounce house. 

Oh you wanted to eat a nice dinner outside? Too bad. Oh you wanted to take a nap? That's not happening. Oh you wanted to watch a movie? Well I hope it doesn't contain any important dialogue because you won't be able to hear it.

bounce castle spires peeking above our wall

I need to pause here and say that when I was a kid and went to a birthday party the party was a) at the birthday kids' house and b) didn't include any type of special entertainment. You got cake and maybe you got some ice cream. You also got to watch the kid whose party it was open his/her presents. That was your live entertainment. And while we are on the subject, do you know how much combined time I spent bouncing around in a bounce house during my childhood? About ten minutes total. If I was lucky enough to go someplace like a fair or carnival where there was a bounce house there was no endless bouncing all afternoon. I bounced for a few minutes and then one of my parents stuck his or her head into the house and yelled that it was time to come out because we were leaving. I'm pretty sure the words, "that's enough fun for one day" were said and that was that. No, I was never indulged in an afternoon long bounce-a-thon.

Great, a puppet show! 

A sad deflated balloon hangs from a tree at the clubhouse. A reminder of a bygone party.

But back to birthday parties. Your parents dropped you off and then they picked you up. They did not accompany you to the party because they had better things to do like enjoy the fact that you weren't home. Well now it's a whole different ball game. The parents are at the party as well and the parties always include some type of horrible (loud) entertainment. Trust me I'm an expert. Since we moved in I estimate that we have been subjected to about 20 children's parties. These days it's all about face painting, water slides, bounce houses or its fancy cousin the more deluxe bounce castle, balloon animals, some weird dude dressed up as a clown or a cowboy and of course the mainstay of the party, endless high pitched screaming. The screaming only pauses long enough for the kids to eat some cake and then it resumes. It's like when you are hunkering down during a hurricane, and the rain and the winds slow you down and you think the storm is over, but no it was just the eye passing over and then the whole thing starts up again. 

I hope this young generation enjoys their bouncy childhood.

A bounce house mid inflation

Take the Pen

Remember the Seinfeld episode when Jerry went to visit his parents in Florida? They lived in a retirement community called Del Boca Vista. During the visit a neighbor named Jack Klompus stopped by. Jack had an astronaut pen. It was called that because you could write with it upside down. Jerry admired the pen.The dialogue goes like this. 

JERRY: What kind of pen is that?

JACK: This pen?

JERRY: Yeah.

JACK: This is an astronaut pen. It writes upside down. They use this in space.

JERRY: Wow! That's the astronaut pen. I heard about that. Where did you get it?

JACK: Oh it was a gift.

JERRY: Cause sometimes I write in bed and I have to turn and lean on my elbow to make the pen work.

JACK: Take the pen.

JERRY: Oh no.

JACK: Go ahead.

JERRY: I couldn't

JACK: Come on, take the pen!

JERRY: I can't take it.

JACK: Do me a personal favor!

JERRY: No, I'm not...

JACK: Take the pen!

JERRY: I cannot take it!

JACK: Take the pen!

JERRY: Are you sure?

JACK: Positive! Take the pen!

JERRY: O.K. Thank you very much. Thank you. Gee, boy!

Then Jack leaves and Jerry's mother says to Jerry, "What did you take his pen for?"

Here's what I have learned. This is American behavior. I'm not saying it's bad. I am and always will be proudly American. But this is not how people behave in other places. 

People here are happy to accept gifts and offers of help. There is no argument, there is no back and forth there is simply a thank you. It's the opposite of what I am used to. It's as if it would be rude NOT to accept an offer of assistance.

I first noticed this months ago when we still lived at the Sunninghill Guest Lodge. We didn't have much of a kitchen so I had bought a pizza for lunch. I couldn't eat all of it so I asked the maid if she would like the rest. And she said yes! I was shocked. I never in a million years actually thought she would take it. It's not that I wanted the pizza, it's that my whole life I have been trained that in that situation while it is nice to offer the other person is likely going to decline the offer. 

Can you imagine if you tried to offer your leftover pizza to someone in the U.S.? A co-worker or a hotel maid?  Anyone short of a homeless person would likely be confused. They might even wonder what was wrong with the pizza.

You: would you like the rest of this pizza? 

Person: you don't want it? 

You: no I'm full. I can't eat another bite.

Person: well you can save it and eat it later. 

You: yes I could do that but I am wondering if you would like it.

Person: I don't want to take your pizza

You: I'm telling you I want to give it to you.

Person: No, you keep it. I ate lunch already.

And on and on and on.

Here are a bunch more examples of people in South Africa "taking the pen." 

One day I had to go to the dry cleaners. I was eating some pretzels at the time. One of the ladies working at the cleaners remarked that the pretzels looked good. I asked if she would like some and she said yes. 

I often give Christine food to take home. She always accepts it and simply says thank you. I don't have to make up a story about how I have left over chicken and I'm not going to eat it and it's going to go bad and yes I could freeze it blah blah. I just simply say please take this chicken home and she replies thank you.

The guards where we live will sometimes stop me when I'm driving out and ask me if I am going to the shops. If I say that I am they will ask me to bring them a loaf of bread and a 2 liter coke. I think they sometimes unexpectedly have to work double shifts and they can't leave their posts to get food. Oh and we can talk another time about how a loaf of white bread and a giant coke is not a proper meal! Anyway, the guards always offer to pay for this food but I never let them. And they don't argue. They don't try to throw their money through my open car window or anonymously tape it to my front door, they just say thank you.

Maybe you are thinking that it's only people who are poor and possibly desperate who readily accept offers of help. Well the people in the above examples all have jobs although it's true some are struggling. But just to prove my point here is another example.

Mr. Deep and I went to an outside bar/restaurant on a recent Sunday afternoon. Most of the tables were in the full sun but one very large table was in the shade. We sat at the shaded table. Soon after a large group of six people showed up. They had the same dilemma, they wanted to sit in the shade but there were no shaded tables. So we said they could sit with us. AND THEY DID! And then our food arrived and we offered them some of it and they accepted. So you can see there is an assumption here that you are being genuine when you offer something to someone. 

This is actually one of the things I love about living here. It's easy to be kind. It's easy to pick up a loaf of bread and a coke at the store for less than $2.00 and give it to the guys who keep us safe in our neighborhood. It's easy to grab a cold drink out of the refrigerator and bring it to the gym and give it to the guy who stands and watches my parked car in the hot sun all day and only gets paid if people give him spare change. It's a good thing not waste food that I am not going to use and give it to Christine to take home. It's fun to sit with a 70 year old guy and his friends at an outdoor bar and have him sing Kenny Roger's The Gambler for all to hear. Yes, that happened. It's nice to be nice.