Where is My Handbook?

The process of moving to South Africa was not easy. It was logistically challenging. The visa business was frustrating and caused a lot of angst. However, when I think back to that time, right before we left the USA and came to South Africa, my most prominent emotion was excitement. We were about to embark on a new life and I couldn't wait to get started. We laughed off the delays and challenges. It was all a big adventure.

Leaving South Africa does not feel like an adventure. It feels awful. I would love to put a positive spin on it for you and say something like, "onward and upward" or "change is good" but I can't. What I can say is, "I'm sure it will be fine." That's the best I can do. But I'm not a huge fan of fine. I prefer amazing. 

Intellectually my sadness about leaving makes no sense. How can it be harder to leave a country where I've lived for just over two years than it was to leave a country where I'd lived my entire life? How can it be harder to leave a place where things don't work all that well for a place where everything works? What could possibly be so difficult about going back to America where everyone will understand me when I speak and where I can eat tacos and drink Starbucks with reckless abandon? Not to mention being closer to family and friends.  Side note, what is wrong with me that I listed tacos before mentioning family and friends? 

When we arrived in South Africa, our relocation agent gave us a book called "Living in South Africa." Of course I never actually READ this book, but the point is there WAS A BOOK about newly arrived expat adjustment. So where is the handbook that details best practises for expats trying to depart a place gracefully? Because I have a lot of questions. 

Some of the questions are trivial, yet real. How will I survive without the constant sunshine, palm trees and smiling security guards who greet me every morning and then ask me to buy them a 2 litre Coke and loaf of bread? How will I manage without my clean house and my perfectly ironed and folded clothes made so by the world's kindest and sweetest person? What about the kids that I teach? Will they forget about me after five minutes (answer is yes being that they are eight years old.) Most importantly, how am I supposed to say goodbye to all the people here who I love...my second family, some of whom, if I'm being honest with myself, I may never see again. 

Mr. Deep has gone already. He is in Geneva working on a project for the next few months. While I am here alone for what simultaneously feels like forever and not nearly long enough, he was "ripped out of here."  Maybe that was the way to go? To leave quickly. Maybe I should have gone with him? Maybe I should have insisted on being an excellent wife and standing by my man, literally. I wonder what the non-existent expat departure handbook would have suggested I do?

I have watched other expat friends leave over the years. Some were life long expats and some were not. All were very stoic and said things like, "here's to the next adventure" which leads me to wonder, is that how they really felt? Maybe they were ready to leave and could barely contain their excitement? Maybe South Africa was getting to them and they were tired of trying to find spare change every minute for car guards, constantly sitting in traffic because of broken traffic lights, and having to visit three stores each time they wanted to buy kale? Or maybe it was breaking their hearts to leave and in the privacy of their own homes they cried a lot and got drunk every night under the guise of having to drink all of their South African wine before the movers arrived? It's hard to know. 

The thing about expat life is when it's time to go it's time go whether you want to or not and conversely for some who wish to leave it's not time to go and they have to stay. This is what we all signed on for. I guess if there were an expat departure handbook, that is what it would say. It would be a very short book. 

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. 

Schmool's Driving School

In addition to my volunteer work teaching English at Diepsloot Combined School and managing a not-real travel agency called Time Pressure Tours, I have created another pseudo-business. I am now sole proprietor and instructor at my own faux driving school affectionately known (to me) as Schmool's Driving School. 

A majority of South Africans don't know how to drive. This is not a funny way of saying the people here are bad drivers, the way one might complain, "people in New Jersey can't drive," it's an actual fact. A report that I found online called the National Household Travel Survey 2013 indicated that as of 2013 only 48% of African males and 39% of African females in South Africa had driver's licenses. That leaves a majority who don't have licenses and who likely don't know how to drive. 

There are several reasons why a large percentage of people here can't drive and don't have licenses.  First, many people have spent little to no time even riding in cars. Unlike a 16 year old in America, who maybe has never driven but who knows what a seat belt is and how it works, what the mirrors are for and how to adjust the seat, many people here do not have this basic knowledge. Combine this with the fact that driving school is expensive for a poor person (a quick check on Google shows five lessons cost R700) and it's hard to practice driving if you don't own a car and don't know anyone who does. Finally, if a person does manage to learn to drive, supposedly getting a license is notoriously difficult. There are many stories about corrupt agents who demand bribes in order issue licenses. 

I have only had two students attend my driving school. Confidence was first. I took her driving a few times. And then today, I had my second student, Clement.

Clement works as a gardener for my friend Meghan. I have met him on numerous occasions when I've visited her house.  Meghan told me months ago she had the idea of teaching Clement to drive and was thinking of doing so, but that her husband wouldn't go for it. 

Luckily, Mr. Deep doesn't have a problem with me teaching people to drive. That's because I don't tell him about it until after the fact. But rest assured, I teach people in a very un-busy parking lot so there is little risk or danger.

On the subject of finding a suitable parking lot to conduct my lessons, it's actually quite difficult. Think about where you first learned to drive. Maybe you learned at a school or a church during a time when school or church was not in session and the parking lot was vacant. Meghan told me she learned to drive in a housing development that was under construction but where no one was living. All of these are great options if you don't live in Joburg. 

In Joburg, every parking lot of every school, mall, construction site, church or whatever is under the surveillance of a massive amount of security. Every school or church that I've ever seen is walled and gated with a security guard manning the gate. Every mall has numerous security guards patrolling the parking lots at all times. The same goes for construction sites. 

Luckily, I found a lot near my house that seemed a perfect location for Schmool's School to set up shop, a defunct shopping centre that only houses one business, a restaurant called Celestino's Pizza. If you live in Joburg then you know this parking lot. If you don't, let me describe it for you. 

I am going to guess that about ten to fifteen years ago, this shopping centre, called The Fern was bustling. That was likely before ten additional modern shopping centres were built within five kilometres of The Fern. Even though there are tons of houses near the Fern and more being built all the time, The Fern is decrepit and the shopping centre looks like it's about to fall down. There may be more than one business functioning at The Fern, but the only one that I know of is Celestino's Pizza, a very nice place which has good pizza and food and even a nice atmosphere once you're inside. Even though Celestino's is good, it is not very busy at lunch and therefore this venue is perfect for daytime driving lessons. At least it was the last time I tried it. 

Wide open lot, perfect for driving lessons. 

Very little action at The Fern. 

Clement has patiently waited for months for his driving lesson as Meghan told him about it a while ago. When Meghan and Clement arrived at The Fern, I asked Clement if he had ever driven before and he said no. So I figured no information was too basic. I showed him how to adjust the seat and explained the mirrors and how to use them. I told him the difference between an automatic transmission and a manual (luckily Schmool is automatic.) I also shared the difference between the brake and the gas pedal and told him that only the right foot should be used, regardless of the pedal being depressed. After this brief but informative overview, we began the driving. I showed him how to start the ignition and put the car in gear and how to check the mirrors before pulling out of the parking space. Then, he drove us around the parking lot a few times. 

Clement was a great student, he quickly got the hang of the brakes, the gas and the steering. We had no near collisions. He was also extremely polite replying "yes ma'am" whenever I told him anything. I had just started preparing for the second part of the lesson, the part where he would pull into a parking space, park and then back out of the same space when we were approached by a security guard. Yes, even The Fern, which really has very little to protect, has a security guard. 

I proactively explained to the security guard that I was giving a driving lesson because I couldn't imagine that it would pose a problem. I thought he approached us because we were driving around, suspiciously, in circles. He told me that driving lessons were not allowed. He made it sound like a recurring problem, people teaching driving in the nearly abandoned Fern parking lot. Maybe it is an issue, given the lack of options. He then pointed a light pole, which was leaning quite heavily to one side and explained that another time, when someone was learning to drive in the lot, he or she crashed into that pole. I convinced him to allow us to continue our lesson for a few more minutes but that was the best I could do as there was really no way to hide our actions considering that there was nothing else going on in the lot to distract the guard. 

I felt badly for Clement that the lesson was cut short and so I asked he and Meghan if they wanted to have lunch. We went into Celestino's where a friendly waiter that I kind of know was working. I introduced him to Meghan and Clement and explained the driving lesson and told him what the security guard had said about the light post.  He said that the light post had been hit by a motorist a long time ago and that it wasn't hit by someone learning to drive, but rather by a drunk guy. 

Even armed with this knowledge there was no way to continue the lesson so we ate our pizza and found out a little bit about Clement. 

Clement

Clement is 28 years old, actually he will officially turn 28 tomorrow  He comes from Lesotho. He came to South Africa because there are very few jobs in Lesotho. His family has a farm where they grow maize, sorghum and pumpkins. He doesn't like the taste of sorghum beer but he does enjoy regular beer which Meghan gives him when she has some leftover after parties. On the family farm they also raise cows and donkeys. Clement has nothing against farming except that it's very unpredictable. If there is no rain or too much rain for example, it can become extremely difficult to survive. Clement prefers to have a steady income and earn a salary. 

Clement has a wife and five year old son named Tatalo. They live with Clement's parents, his two older sister's and one younger brother on the farm. Clement is the only family member who has left and come to work in South Africa. Clement's home in Lesotho, called Leribe, is four hours by bus from Joburg. The bus costs R250 each way. Meghan has told me that Clement very rarely goes home, as infrequently as once per year at Christmas. 

When Clement first came to South Africa, he got a job working construction for "Mr. Chris." Mr. Chris is Meghan's landlord and he also owns several other properties. Clement had never worked construction before and he learned on the job. He now not only works as Meghan's gardener, but he lives at a home that belongs to Mr. Chris, which is under construction, doing work like clearing trees and serving as security for the empty house. I asked him if the house he stays in, the one that is under construction, has electricity and and a kitchen and he said that it does, although Meghan said that there was a time when there was no electricity in the house.  Clement speaks Sesotho, English and Zulu. He learned English at school but did not learn Zulu until he came to South Africa. He told us Zulu is "easy" to learn.