Scoot This

Maybe I'm just cranky. 

If you didn't like this post, then bad news for you, you're not going to like this one as it's a continuation of the same rant. I think I've discovered something more annoying and disruptive than bounce houses. There is a scooter epidemic in Geneva. These two wheeled contraptions are choking the streets, sidewalks and parks and let's just say I'm not a fan.

In Joburg everyone likes to complain endlessly about the mini bus taxis. Taxi drivers wreak havoc on the streets breaking every traffic law within a five minute time period. If you are driving and you see a taxi you must assume the driver is going to cut across three lanes of traffic and then stop without warning. The difference between the taxis and these scooters is that at least taxis serve an important purpose. Without the taxis, millions of people would have no transportation and the South African economy would collapse. Scooters however serve absolutely no purpose, they are simply a toy and a most annoying one at that.

Since I'm not sure if the scooter scourge is a worldwide issue or not, let me show you a photo of the type of scooter I'm referring to. 

I haven't taken a formal survey, but my informal research tells me that every child in Geneva owns one of these. 

When faced with a puzzling mystery, one first must ask why. So I have asked myself why do kids (I won't even get started on adults) need scooters? Some quick research on Google indicates that humans have been walking upright for 1.9 million years. Why the sudden need to scoot? Is it that parents think their kids don't walk fast enough? Is it just a phase or a craze? I can't come up with an answer that satisfies. 

Don't think that these scooters are just for older kids either. Yesterday in the park I saw a kid with a pacifier in his mouth riding a scooter. Surely if you are still using a pacifier you don't need your own set of wheels. Your first order of business should be weaning yourself off sucking a plastic nipple when you go out in public. I also saw a parent pushing an empty stroller while the kid scooted up ahead. This situation says just one thing, this parent doesn't want his kid to have to walk, he can either be pushed or he can scoot but walking is frowned upon. 

There is a reason that kids don't drive cars and can't get licenses until they are older. It's because they can't steer. I can't tell you how many times I've been running in the park only to have a near miss collision with a four year old scooting uncontrollably. The parents don't even seem to notice that I've had to jump off the path and into a shrub to save myself from being taken out by their kid. The parents are too busy smoking and chatting away on their cell phones to concern themselves with my safety.

I sometimes like to play a little game of chicken with these scooting kids as I run. I will run toward them and not get out of the way until the last possible minute. While it may seem mean I am trying to teach them an important life lesson which is sometimes you need to %$&!%^ing move. 

But I know the real reason these scooters bother me so much and it's not because I am almost maimed daily or am simply mean. It's because I'm still dealing with culture shock having moved to fancy pants Geneva from South Africa. While there are plenty of wealthy kids living a plush (and bouncing castle filled) life in South Africa there were also a lot of kids who didn't own any toys. Anyone who has visited a township like Diepsloot or Soweto has seen kids playing outside using rocks, string and trash as makeshift toys. Once you've seen that, you don't forget that image easily.

One day Mr. Deep and I witnessed a temper tantrum which took place outside our apartment. A child and his mother were standing on the street corner and clearly the kid was having a meltdown. He threw his scooter into the street while screaming. The mother, calmly bent down and retrieved it. 

Had I been that parent, that moment would have been the last time that child ever touched that scooter. That scooter would have been boxed up and on it's way to Africa before that kid could ask "has anyone seen my scooter?" It would have been on its way to a needy and appreciative child who could ride it the 5km each way that he has to walk to and from school each day. 

Maybe I'm just cranky. 

A Tale of Two Freezers

While I've only lived in Joburg for two years, some of the things that I used to find surprising I'm now getting used to. I still consider myself to be a fish out of water in this country but the water is becoming more and more familiar. Hosting visitors gives me the opportunity to see things through the eyes of people who are experiencing South Africa for the first time and their comments remind me of the time when I too was new here. 

Recently, I took my friends visiting from the U.S. to Soweto. Because they were on a tight schedule (of course they were) we planned a half day tour. Unfortunately our guide was on Africa time and was an hour late to meet us making the Soweto visit even shorter than planned. We ate lunch at Tintie's, a Soweto must as far as I'm concerned and after Tintie's we went to Kliptown. Kliptown is an informal settlement where people live in shacks with "borrowed" electricity. In Kliptown hundreds of people share one porta potty and residents collect water for washing and drinking in buckets from a central tap. If they need to heat the water they will likely heat it over a paraffin stove or an open fire. This was my third trip to Kliptown and I find it interesting each time I go. While sad, it's also uplifting because the tour includes a visit to a place called the Kliptown Youth Programme, which provides tutoring, sports, meals and more to hundreds of kids who live in Kliptown. 

Part of the tour of Kliptown includes going inside a shack and seeing the conditions in which people in Kliptown live.  It is a strange feeling to venture inside a shack while the residents are there watching you watch them while you look at their home. Each time, I wonder what the residents think. Are they proud of their shacks because they have worked hard to make them livable? Are they hoping if people from the outside see the conditions it will bring about change? Are they just too polite to say no to visitors? I'm not sure. 

Shacks in Kliptown, Soweto

Where people in Kliptown get their water.

Inside a shack with our tour guide from the Kliptown Youth Programme. A young boy is doing his homework in the background.

A tub for bathing and washing 

After we left Soweto, I drove my friends back to our house along a route that I drive almost daily. First, we drove past a Maserati dealership and then a few minutes later we passed a billboard for a company called Doggy Paddle, which offers hydrotherapy for pets. My friend remarked on both sightings saying "we just saw people living in shacks and meanwhile other people are buying Maseratis and sending pets for physical therapy?" And my answer was yes, that's South Africa.

Quick side note, I don't have a problem with pets. I also don't have a problem with people who love their pets and treat them like children or provide them with physical therapy. As you read on, you might think that I do, but I don't. 

The Maserati dealership and the pet hydrotherapy sign sightings reminded me of the freezers, which I have never written about. I live right near a very large Spar, a grocery store. When I tell people where I live they often say, "you live right near the best Spar" and it's true, I do, this Spar is the biggest and the best in Joburg. At the Spar, in the back corner where the meat section is there are two freezers. 

The first freezer, is nondescript. It doesn't have any signage or any markings on it. If I didn't see people crowding around it on a regular basis then I probably could visit the Spar for years without even noticing this freezer. It looks like a freezer that an American who likes to have a lot of frozen food on hand would keep in his basement only it's smaller than that and square shaped instead of rectangular but it does have a lid that opens from the top. 

There is no way to me to explain delicately what this freezer is so I will just tell you. It's the freezer where the poorest of poor shoppers buy their meat. The freezer is filled with clear plastic bags of what look like bones with maybe a tiny bit meat on them. You might be naively thinking that I could easily just open the freezer and take a look or maybe make some nice soup using the bones or at a minimum take a few photos of the freezer contents for the blog, but I can't. White people simply don't open that freezer.  I am too self conscious that if I open it both white people and black people are going to stare at me. I wouldn't be surprised if the minute I opened it a store employee came running over to ask me "ma'am do you need help" which translates into "you must be confused, your meat is over here."

Directly across the aisle from freezer A is freezer B. I have also never opened freezer B but not because I am self conscious, I just don't have a need to open it. Freezer B has clear signage and sells Bentley Natural Dog Food which contains "synthetic vitamins, trace minerals and antioxidants." Their slogan, ironically, is "affordable gourmet dog food so good you can eat it too." The signage on freezer B goes on to state that this dog food is prepared in a kitchen specializing in gourmet human food and that it is balanced by leading pet food nutritionists. 

Freezer A with Freezer B (in green) in the background.

I haven't compared the prices of the contents of the two freezers because to do so, I'd have to open freezer A, which I'm not going to do. Maybe one day I'll work up the courage. 

Shoppers crowding around Freezer A

Sunday in Soweto

"If you can't be an athlete, be an athletic supporter." 

- Principal McGee, Grease. 

On Sunday, Mr. Deep successfully ran and completed the Soweto Marathon. For those who don't know, a marathon is 26.2 miles/42 kilometers.  This is an extraordinary achievement and I am very proud of Mr. Deep not just for completing such a difficult physical event but also for the amount of training he has put in over the past months. He truly committed himself to this endeavor.

This post isn't about Mr. Deep's race though. Instead it's about my experiences spending a good part of the morning on my own in Soweto as a race spectator.

I have written posts about Soweto before but as a quick refresher, Soweto stands for South West Township. Blacks were forced to live in townships during the apartheid era and Soweto is the most densely populated black residential area in the country. Parts of Soweto look like a middle class neighborhood but other areas are informal settlements filled with shacks. Soweto is rich in history. Both Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu lived in Soweto and the Soweto uprising of 1976 was a major event which garnered the attention of the world and led to increased sanctions and pressure on the apartheid government to change its ways. Although clearly it took a while.

On Friday evening, before the race Mr. Deep and I decided that on Saturday we would review the course route and come up with my spectator plan. On Saturday, Mr. Deep emailed me a course map (from the other room) and suggested that I, "figure out where I was going to be."

I would rather it had been a collaborative process. But Mr. Deep was obviously feeling stressed about the race and he didn't seem to want any part in the development of my plan. I thought about pushing the issue but decided not to. I think running a marathon is kind of like going in for surgery. No one who is going in for surgery is too concerned with the plans of those around them. You would not ask someone who was going in for surgery, "hey, where do you think I should eat lunch tomorrow while you are under the knife?" Or, "what time do you think you'll be finished? I have plans in the evening." So I left it alone and tried to come up with a plan on my own. To make matters worse, I was also given the world's worst map, one with a lot of missing street names.

I do realize there are plenty of wives who would say to their husbands, "have a great race and I'll see you when you get home." I also know there are a lot of expat wives (and South African wives for that matter) who would tell their husbands "sorry but I'm not cruising around Soweto by myself."  But I decided to suck it up and figure it out. This is the kind of relationship that Mr. Deep and I have. When one asks the other to do something, the person who was asked is supposed to do it...with a smile. This would be a good time to mention that following 9/11 Mr. Deep rented the last car in Houston and drove non-stop all the way to Minneapolis to rescue me and then he drove us home to New York. 

When I looked at the race website to see if there was any kind of information for spectators I couldn't find anything. Finally, I found a section about friends and family in the FAQ section. Only it wasn't very helpful.

The race began at the ungodly hour of 6:00 a.m and so we had to leave the house by 4:30. Unfortunately even 4:30 was not quite early enough because as we got close to Soweto the traffic was horrible as thousands of runners were trying to get to FNB Stadium for the start of the race. If you are a devoted fan and long time reader of my blog, you might enjoy the irony of the fact that the race began at FNB Stadium. 

We sat in traffic, barely moving, for about 45 minutes. Finally, Mr. Deep was running out of time and he got out of the car to walk to the start. Of course, as soon as he got out of the car the traffic started moving. He got back in the car and I was able to drop him off him pretty close to the stadium. I then continued on my way to the first point where I planned to stop and watch the race.

Walking to start.

I decided my first stop would be about 4-5 miles into the race. The map was so bad that I can't even tell you exactly what mile marker it was. I chose the location because it was near a big hospital, named after Chris Hani that I had passed on a tour once. I figured that A) a hospital is a safe place to be and even if it's not safe if something happens to you you're already at the hospital and B) a hospital has parking. 

But I guess I forgot that I was in South Africa because while the hospital had parking it also had massive security and a gate with guards so it wasn't like I could just drive right in and park. I saw a few race marshalls standing near the hospital and they suggested I turn around and park at the petrol (gas) station where they themselves had parked.

I parked at the petrol station and then walked down to where the marshalls were. In true South African form these women were so nice and friendly that we soon became best friends. They asked me where I was from. Partially I think because of my accent but also partially because they don't get a lot of white women hanging out alone in Soweto. I stayed with them and got to see Mr. Deep pass by and then I moved on to my next location.

 

Jabu

Busi (who also goes by Lillian) is on the left. I didn't get the name of the woman on my right.

Someone must have driven into this traffic light. It still works though. 

My next location was to be around mile 17 near Vilakazi Street a very vibrant and famous part of Soweto. This is the street where both Mandela and Tutu lived. I chose it because I figured it was early enough in the race where I would still be able to see Mr. Deep finish and also because (you guessed it) I had been there before on a tour. 

Driving to mile 17 from mile 4 (or wherever I was) proved challenging as I kept ending up having to drive across the race course. While this was frustrating for me, it was extremely frustrating for those people who were going about their business and had nothing to do with the race. The taxi drivers seemed especially inconvenienced. And since taxi drivers never follow any traffic rules of the road, they were certainly not going to let a few thousand runners get in their way. The race marshalls had a tough job trying to control the traffic. At one point I saw a race marshall sitting on the hood of a car trying to stop the driver from driving through the race course. Sadly, I didn't get a photo of that!

Here is a marshall arguing with a driver.

A nice shot of the Orlando Towers a Soweto landmark.

I arrived near Vilakazi street and parked in front of a church. Tip of the day when driving around Soweto park near churches and hospitals. Vilakazi Street did not disappoint as there was a lot of entertainment, music and energy and while I would have liked to hang out there I thought it would be better to go around the corner and try to create a little excitement along a quieter stretch of the course. I walked down to a residential area and began cheering my heart out for every runner who went by. Eventually Mr. Deep came along and then I was free to head to the finish. 

Entertainment on Vilakazi Street.

Getting to FNB Stadium was difficult as I somehow had to cross the race route twice. I finally made it and parked near a long pedestrian bridge. The man who helped me park my car told me it cost R30 to park there and while I think that was total BS, I paid it anyway. 

On one of my tours I learned that FNB Stadium, which was built for the 2010 world cup, is supposed to look like a giant class of beer with a foam head. It actually does but you can't tell from this photo. 

I headed inside to meet our thoughtful and kind friends who had also shown up to support Mr. Deep. We all then watched Mr. Deep cross the finish line. 
 

Mr. Deep, his post race beer and his Soweto Marathon Medal. 

Deep Thoughts

My apologies that the font sizes in the email version of this post were wacky. I have fixed that now. Enjoy the post!

As we kick off 2016 I thought it might be interesting to share a different perspective. You've read post after post describing my experiences and thoughts about living in South Africa, but what about Mr. Deep? What does he think about life in South Africa? What does he enjoy, what could he do without and what really annoys him about his wife? OK, that last question really doesn't have much to do with life in South Africa, but it might be interesting to find out anyway. Or, it might not be that interesting.

Before I get to our Q&A with Mr. Deep, I thought I'd share the reason that I call this blog My Thoughts From the Deep End. First, because when you are a kid, going in the deep end of the pool is a very big deal. Obviously you can't touch the bottom and you have to rely on your swimming skills to stay alive. That is how I felt about moving to South Africa. Very excited but totally outside my comfort zone. I wasn't sure if I'd be a strong enough swimmer to survive. Luckily, so far so good. 

Second, on my visa I am listed as a "dependent spouse" which means Mr. Deep is my only reason for being here. As a dependent spouse I can't have my own bank account, my own cell phone account or my own any account and I can't get a job. It means South Africa tolerates my being here because they figure if they ask my husband to leave me back in the U.S. he might not come here and work. 

As part of the visa application process, Mr. Deep had to sign a letter of undertaking saying he'd take care of me, his dependent, and see to all of my needs for the entire time that we are here. It's like when you agree to let your friend bring his dodgy girlfriend to your party. You say, "OK, you can bring her but you're responsible for making sure she doesn't go off the rails and if she does, you're sending her home ASAP"  So I'm deep-end-ent on Mr. Deep and if I act out, he needs to send me packing to the U.S.A. Thus, the deep end.

An interview with Mr. Deep.
Interviewer: Mr. Deep, you've been living in South Africa for over ten months now. Tell me, what are some of the things that you enjoy most about life here?  

Mr. Deep: Most of the time the weather. Despite the recent heat wave we've been having, the weather is usually beautiful.  I enjoy being able to see wild animals in their natural habitat pretty much any time I want.  I like the fact that we can live in such a nice house for way cheaper than something comparable would go for back home.  I also love that beer and food are pretty cheap.  I enjoy that we do things that most of the people I work with don't or would not do, like go to beer/music festivals, go on Soweto bar crawls, go to the CBD (Ed - Central Business District) to see an indie movie. Or take my Jeep out for a proper off-road beating. 

Interviewer: Why do you think most people don't or won't go to the types of places that you mention? 

Mr. Deep:  Some have kids/families, so beer fests and bar crawls would clearly not be the first choice for something to do. Some would just not think of going to CBD/Soweto in general. I would guess it is just a cultural thing that we as expats do not have a hang-up with?

Interviewer: And of the flip side, what are some things about living here that you find difficult or that you don't enjoy? 

Mr. Deep: The traffic really sucks.  Not all of the time, but during the morning commute, a 15 minute trip usually takes 40 minutes.  I don't enjoy running into cops looking for payoffs.  Also, seeing all the poverty constantly.  While I am not quite as overt in my altruism as the interviewer is, I do make it a point to pay the parking guards which many of my colleagues do not do. The load shedding is a pain in the ass and I also don't enjoy losing water for weeks at a time. The air quality also leaves a lot to be desired sometimes.  

Interviewer: If someone you knew was thinking of moving to Joburg, South Africa, what advice would you give to him or her? 

Mr. Deep:  Have an open mind.  It is tough to put yourself in anyone's shoes here as you are not from here.  I try not to have opinions on certain things here,  if you know what I mean.   Also, don't believe everything you hear on the crime - just be careful. But car-jamming is real.  You should manually double check your car is locked after you click the remote.  Third, just accept that the taxis will drive where they want and cut you off.  No sense getting mad about it.  Unless you have a Jeep and don't mind scratching it.  Then you will always win the game of "chicken." 

Interviewer: Yes, I know what you mean about having opinions. I once a read a quote that said, "don't judge a book by the chapter you walked in on." So I also keep my opinions to myself because I feel like I am a guest in this country and I know I don't have all of the information and the history. And I agree the taxis are very reckless. You need to be very careful and assume any taxi you see is going to somehow break a traffic law within the next 15 seconds.

Interviewer: You go to work every day. How are you finding your job here? 

Mr. Deep: A nice change from what I was doing, more hands on.  Although my last role really helped me learn much about one of the company's main businesses and the project turned out to be something really important for management.   Now, I am learning a new business and gaining good experience in "non-accounting-related" financial management.  We have set up a lot of processes from scratch and I enjoy the entrepreneurial atmosphere. We have a small team that I am one of the leaders of and I feel like more than just a "mid-level cog at McCann." Your fans of Mad Men should get that reference. 

Interviewer: Since you brought it up, did you like the Mad Men series finale? 

Mr. Deep: Nice way to end the show.  I liked it. 

Interviewer:  What do you miss about living in the U.S.A.?  

Mr. Deep: Surprisingly not too much.  Proximity to a few people that I care about and wish I could visit more. Friends that did not live close by are still just as close thanks to that interweb thing.  I do miss having places to walk or run.  This place is not very pedestrian friendly.  I do miss my sports and not being able to watch my teams, although this was a great year to not have to watch them, especially the Giants.  Ugh.  

Interviewer: Does it bother you that your wife is not working? Do you wonder what it is exactly that she does all day? 

Mr. Deep: No it does not. She deserves the break.  And the interviewer well knows that I have no right to complain even if it did, given my two-year sabbatical a while back.  I don't really wonder what she does all day because she blogs about it, texts me during the day and generally keeps me informed. 

Interviewer: Does it bother you when you meet new people, introduce yourself as Stephen and then your wife constantly refers to you as Steve possibly confusing your new friends as to what you want to be called?  

Mr. Deep: Not really.  I think the stigma of the "Don't be a Steve" campaign has disappeared but I still like to call myself Stephen now.  I will also answer to Steve.  Just not Steven.  Not sure how this works, but some people in the office address me as Steven in an e-mail, when the proper spelling is RIGHT THERE IN THE E-MAIL ADDRESS. 

Interviewer: Assuming that you only have two years left before you have to leave Africa, what are some of the places you want to visit and things that you want to do before you leave?  

Mr. Deep: In no particular order, Namibia, Madagascar, the Okavango Delta in Botswana, Victoria Falls whenever it gets some more water running over it, Lesotho, Mozambique, Mauritius, perhaps a safari on the Zambezi river.  I would also like to climb Kilimanjaro as long as I am here.  As for other things to do, catch some live Rugby and Cricket, explore some other areas of Joburg and do some more fishing.  

Interviewer: Yes, you recently went fishing for the first time since living here. Tell us a little about that experience. 

Mr. Deep: We were over at the neighbor's for Christmas lunch.  His whole family was there so I got talking with his father and the topic of fishing came up.  Next thing you know I get an invite for the next morning to go fishing at the Lonehill Dam. Dam is what they call man-made lakes.  I caught some pretty big barbels, which is what they call African Catfish. I seem to remember a blog post about different words they use here.  Guess you can add a couple more.

Interviewer: What else do you want readers to know?  

Mr. Deep:  I am glad I am far removed from that shit-show also known as the Presidential Primaries.  U.S. politics in general to be quite honest.  It is quite nice to not be bombarded by that stuff 24/7. 

Mr. Deep on Boxing Day with the giant barbel that he caught.

Bump Bump

Two things about me. First, I like always having some event planned for the future so that I have something to look forward to.  I have spent more than one plane ride home following a vacation thinking about what my next vacation could be. Second, sometimes I don't learn from my mistakes.

Me. At The Shack in Soweto

Mr. Deep and I returned to Joburg from our two week trip to the U.S. this past Thursday morning. Because I thought it was important that we have an activity to look forward to upon our return, before we left for the U.S., I arranged for us to participate in a shebeen crawl in Soweto on Saturday. 

The part where I don't learn from my mistakes comes into play because once again we suffered from serious jet lag. I was not able to fall asleep until 3:00 a.m. on Friday morning and both Mr. Deep and I were wide awake between midnight and 2:00 a.m. early Saturday morning. During this two hour period both of us also found it necessary to eat a snack because we felt hungry given it was dinner time back in the U.S. So yes, we were kind of a mess. However, if you are already feeling crappy and not at the top of your game, that might be the perfect time to go on a pub crawl.

Shebeen is an Irish word that refers to an illicit club that sells alcohol without a license. Most shebeens are now legal however the shebeen plays a significant role in South African history, which you can read more about here.  

You might remember I have written about Soweto before as we visited the area when my parents were here.  Soweto is the largest township in South Africa and is home to over 1 million people. A township refers to an area where black people were forced to live during apartheid.

The shebeen tour was arranged by a group called InterNations in conjunction with a tour company called KDA Travel & Tours. InterNations is the largest international expat community in the world and offers networking events and activities as well as tips and practical information for expats living in over 390 cities worldwide. Mr. Deep and I received a lot of advice from other expats both before and after moving to South Africa suggesting we join expat clubs such as InterNations as a way to meet people. We have been doing pretty well meeting people without joining any clubs but this seemed like a fun event and a good way to meet others who have relocated to Joburg. 

We met the tour guide and the rest of the group at a hotel in Sandton City and boarded our bus to Soweto. Mr. Deep and I were the only Americans participating. The other expats were from Germany, Italy, Cameroon, Nigeria, Zimbabwe, Finland and the Philippines. There were also three Australians. Not to stereotype but I think Australians really enjoy a good pub crawl.  We didn't receive our itinerary in advance, which we were told was for our safety, so until the time we boarded the bus we had no idea what the night would bring. 

We were not really worried about safety but we did decide to leave our rings and nice jewelry at home prior to departure.

Once on the bus, we met our tour guide, Ngugi, pronounced Goo-gee. He assured us that going to Soweto and on the tour was completely safe and that we were in for a great time. He said that since Soweto is so famous and has so much historical significance that people there are used to seeing visitors and tours pass through frequently. He told us our first stop would be to have dinner at a place called Tinties. 

I don't know who Tintie is but s/he must be doing really well financially because we soon arrived at a small shopping center where every single store had Tintie in the name. There was Tintie's restaurant, Tintie's Supermarket, Tintie's butchery, Tintie's Pool Hall and Tintie's bottle store. The whole parking lot was full of people as were all of the stores and the restaurant. The parking lot looked like a tailgating party that you would see in the U.S. at a sporting event. People were parked and hanging out and just drinking and dancing near their cars. It was not a holiday or a special event, just a typical Saturday evening. There was also a DJ playing music in the corner of the shopping center. We headed to the restaurant where we somehow secured a long table like you would see at a beer garden.  I call the restaurant a restaurant but really it was more like a grilling pavilion.  It had a huge braai (grill) and guys were manning the fire and cooking tremendous amounts of meat. In order to have your meat braaied you first had to go and purchase it raw from the butcher. If you wanted beer or a drink (and of course we all did) you had to walk across the parking lot to the bottle store to get it. The bottle store was really more like a stand where the liquor and the seller were safe behind bars. To purchase a drink you had to wait in a line and then tell the guy behind the bars what you wanted. Mostly everyone was drinking beer which were huge quart size bottles. It seems none of the locals in Soweto wanted to waste time with a pint. In addition to buying a bottle quart, you could also buy a whole six pack of regular size beer. Liquor and soft drinks were also sold. In addition to not selling the drinks or the meat, the restaurant did not provide any plates, utensils or napkins (serviettes.) We were expected to eat everything with our hands. That is easy when eating a lamp chop but more difficult when eating the pap and prawn salad. Pap, you might remember from this post, is a staple food of South Africa. It is made from maize meal and is the consistency of mashed potatoes. The pap (pronounced pop) was served with a side of chakalaka sauce which is a very delicious cabbage and tomato sauce with a hint of curry. In addition to the lamp chops we also received beef and wors (sausages.) The platters that these meats were served on were the cardboard that formerly housed cases of beer.

Mr. Deep at Tintie's. You can see the guy hanging out and tailgating in the background. You can also see the giant quart bottle of beer in this picture.

A box of meat

Tinti has cornered the market. And as you can see below some signs say Tintie's and others say Tinti's. I don't know why.

Wors (sausages) 

Some hot coals

Not a great photo because the light is behind them but still had to post a pic of the guys cooking the meat.

Pap. It came wrapped in plastic on a Styrofoam plate. So I guess there was sort of a plate. 

One of our fellow expats walked to Tintie's supermarket and bought a package of serviettes but other than that that one creature comfort we all ate with our hands and without utensils or plates.

Following dinner, we stopped at a petrol (gas) station to use the bathrooms. We then headed to our first shebeen, called The Shack. The Shack looked like some one's house as it consisted of various rooms. The first room had a table and couches and seemed to be where the older men were hanging out. The next room had a pool table and seemed to be where the younger men were hanging out. The bar itself was its own room. It wasn't really a bar but rather a room full of coolers like you would see in a grocery store. A guy manned this room which also contained the cash register.

How funny I just noticed the guy in the Giants shirt.

Coolers of beer at The Shack

At this point Mr. Deep became interested in playing pool with the locals. Unfortunately we weren't at The Shack long enough for him to have the chance to play.  At the next bar, called the Sanile's Place, he immediately put his money down in order to get next game. It turns out there are pool rules that are very specific to Africa. The Africa bump bump rule means that if you are shooting and fail to connect with your ball (this would be a table scratch in conventional 8-ball rules), your opponent gets a "free" additional shot if he misses his next. If your opponent makes his shot, he still is able to use that free shot if he misses after that. I know what you are thinking. This rule sounds like a rule that was created specifically for the circumstance when a white guy appears in Soweto and wants to play pool. But Ngugi confirmed that bump bump is an actual rule. Mr. Deep did not win but he did make some friends in the process. The guys playing with him wanted to get a photo with him. Even one guy who had a mohawk and seemed more than a little intimidating as he was explaining the rules in a very animated fashion, became Mr. Deep's best bud while we were at Sanile's. Also at this bar, the actual bar was a counter with bars on it. To purchase a drink you had to go to the window and pay, similar to a gas station. Sanile's also had a DJ spinning tunes and lots of people dancing. While there were some women in these bars, I would say 90% of the clientele were men. Probably because women were too busy at home taking care of their kids. One of the woman in our group was a blond woman from Finland she got a lot of attention from the men. Ngugi told us on the bus that one guy at Sanile's offered him 40 head of cattle as a lobola for her. A lobola is a dowry or a price that a man's family gives to a woman's family to obtain the woman as his bride. That is the thing about Africa...one minute you easily forget you are anywhere exotic and the next minute someone is offering 40 head of cattle for a woman.

A selfie with Mr. Deep's new friends including guy with mohawk. Oh and I am promised that facial hair will be gone by the end of the year.

                                Lined up for beer at the window with the bars at Sanile's

We then moved on to our final bar called Sakhimzi. Sakhimzi was like any other restaurant or bar that you would find in any city. It had a ton of outside seating and the bar itself was normal meaning you could walk up and order directly without iron bars or having to pass any money through a slot. It was a nice place and we once again secured a long table outside. We met a guy named David and he sat with us and we played a game where he guessed which country we were all from. He didn't do too badly. It turns out he visited Chicago once when he was working as a salesman. The only thing that was strange about Sakhimzi was the staff were all wearing canvas jumpsuit type uniforms which made them look like they had just parachuted in. It had to be hot and uncomfortable and I clearly missed what about the theme of the bar led to these uniforms.  

The jumpsuit

Christmas decorations at Sakhimzi

The leader from InterNations named Nkuli with Ngugi, our tour guide.

Heta from Finland and David from Soweto