Toe in the Water

I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round

I really love to watch them roll

No longer riding on the merry-go-round

I just had to let it go

- John Lennon

In the future, when we leave South Africa for good, I might have to go back to work. Mr. Deep, when he proofreads this post, will strongly suggest that I change the word might in the previous sentence to will. But as nothing is certain life except death and taxes I am going to leave it as might.

Here's where I have to be careful because the way blogs and social media work it would be a real shame if at a future job interview the interviewer asked me, "why did you write in your blog that you'd rather quote stick your head in the toilet and flush repeatedly than return to the work force end quote?" So I won't write anything of the sort. Instead I'll tell you the real problem. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. 

The only thing I've figured out during my time away from work which now totals 870 days, (wow, time really does fly when you're having fun) is what I don't want to do with my life. Nice people who I share these thoughts with say kind things like, "figuring out what you don't want to do is the first step" or "I'm sure you can easily find something you love." These are the same people who probably told me twenty years ago, "I'm sure you'll decide that you want to have kids one day" and we all know how that turned out. 

Here's what I'm not looking for from my next job. 
Stress. A little stress is fine. Excitement, challenges, all good. What's not good is waking up in the middle of the night thinking about work problems. Similarly I don't want to spend my days at work putting out fires and dodging land mines. Figuratively, of course. I don't plan to actually do work involving fire fighting and land mines.

All consuming. The best part about my life now is all of the things that I do have time for. Things like making dinner, seeing friends, going to the gym, volunteering and staring at the wall. 

The challenge is how to turn the things I don't want out of work into a job that I do want. You don't see many resumes with this career objective: To work in an environment which is calm and peaceful and where a limited amount of effort and responsibility is required. Even someone applying for work at a spa would likely not be hired with that opening. 

And here's the real problem. I'm the one with the problem. If I worked at a spa I would make it stressful and all consuming. Within days of starting work at the spa I would likely have us implementing a new software program, repainting the lobby, training all masseuses to ensure consistency in service and having a focus group to secure customer feedback. I am the one who gets carried away and makes a job demanding and if the job is already demanding, then forget it I'm back to having a bald patch on my head.

Recently I worked on a fundraising project.  I didn't get paid but other that it was real work and the surprising part, it was enjoyable (and successful although that's not surprising.) A group of friends and I created and held an event to raise money for a bursary (scholarship) fund for female university students from Diepsloot. The event, called The Morning Market and Tea was held earlier this week at the home of my friend Sandy. 

Four of us worked for several months to plan the event.  We secured thirteen vendors selling various items (that was the market part.) Some of the vendors were seasoned pros who own their own successful businesses and others are just starting out. Confidence was there selling her artwork and Beatrice and Loyce were there selling cakes. Each vendor donated 10% of all sales. We had forty guests who each paid R200 at the door. A friend generously catered the event providing much more than the average tea finger sandwiches. In fact, there was not a finger sandwich to be found. We also had a raffle and silent auction which raised significant money. 

As the day may be drawing near when I begin to work again, I have been thinking about The Morning Market and Tea and what made it enjoyable and here's what I have come up with. First, each of the four of us put the cause first. Yes, we wanted to make the event fun but we always focused on how we could raise maximum funds. Second, each of us worked very hard. No one blew into meetings like a hurricane, shared a bunch of outrageous ideas and then disappeared. Third, there were no silly politics. No one called anyone else to complain about another member of the group behind her back...at least I don't think anyone did. It's certainly possible that people called each other to complain about me, but I was none the wiser. 

My career objective is now taking shape. Currently it looks like this: "To work in an environment where I can have maximum impact without having to endure any bullshit." OK, I could soften the wording a bit, but I think I'm making progress. 

Art by Confidence

Beatrice and Loyce

Gorgeous food

Photo credit for this photo and all below: Sue Huck

The market included a floral arrangement demonstration.

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. 

I got got got got no time

For years I have been asking Mr. Deep if he and I can start a business together. It's not that I have some great business idea that I think would make us millions but rather because I like spending time with Mr. Deep (most of the time) and I think our approach to accomplishing goals would lead to success. Mr. Deep and I also have complementing talents. Mr.Deep for example, could handle all of the accounting and finances for our business and I could not. For some reason Mr. Deep does not seem that excited about starting a business with me. I think it's because he has a fear of losing money. It's also possible, although unlikely, that he doesn't think working with me would be all that much fun. 

Strangely enough over the past few months Mr. Deep and I have found ourselves running a business of sorts. Although our business is not making a profit and our services are only available on a limited basis to family and friends who come to South Africa, working with Mr. Deep in this pseudo-business endeavor has proven my theory that we'd make excellent business partners. 

Like many important inventions of the modern age, the cotton gin, the printing press and the flat iron, our business concept, Time Pressure Tours, or TPT for short, was born out of necessity. The necessity of trying to plan meaningful, fun and exciting visits for people coming to South Africa for very short periods of time. 

Americans are very busy people.  Unlike Europeans who may take a holiday for the entire month of August or Canadians who take a whole year off for maternity leave, Americans like to work as much possible and they wear their busy-ness and workaholic tendencies as badges of honor. Ask an American what is new or how things are going and he will surely tell you just how busy he is. As an American, I shared these traits when I had a job. I found nothing more satisfying than working all day on Sunday only to be able to hit send on fifty emails first thing Monday morning thus hammering my colleagues with information, outlook meeting appointments and requests for analysis. I didn't even have to tell anyone that I worked all day on Sunday, but believe me, they knew. It's not only work that keeps American adults busy, it's their kids who seem to participate in an unfathomable number of sports games all of which the parents apparently need to view in person and in entirety. 

Mr. Deep and I are thrilled that over the past year we've had numerous American friends and family members take time out of their very busy schedules to come to South Africa and see us. These visits are often very short, as short as one week, although our American guests will calculate the visit as longer because they like to count time spent on the plane as part of the vacation. 

At TPT we meet the needs of our busy and over scheduled customers by planning travel agendas that are relentless. TPT allows visitors one half day to recover from flying half way around the world but beginning the morning of the first full day visitors must fasten their seat belts for they are in for a whirlwind tour of South Africa that leaves no time for tardiness, dilly dallying, questioning of or revision to the agenda.  Guests "enjoying" the TPT experience fall into bed late at night thoroughly exhausted from such adventures as visiting Cape Town, tastings at wine farms, viewing wild animals, and going to school in Diepsloot. TPT travelers learn about Nelson Mandela's struggle to gain freedom for the South African people AND the intricate details of the mating habits of hippos, they feast on braais chock full of meat (at TPT we always make time for meals), meet people who were born and raised on this continent and take in gorgeous skies and awe-inspiring scenery all in a short window that might leave many begging for a break. 

Agendas are communicated to guests prior to arrival in an email detailing the activities planned for each day. Often, our guests are so busy, that they fail to read this email in advance of the trip and so upon arrival are surprised at the sheer volume of of planned activities. Under the guidance of TPT leadership (Mr. Deep and me) guests quickly learn that their agenda has been carefully orchestrated with no room for error. If guests want to stray from the plan or are taking too much time enjoying a particular activity, TPT management will firmly rectify the situation. This was best evidenced when we took Mr. Deep's family to Boulders Beach. Everyone was enjoying the waterfront and watching the penguins when Mr. Deep suddenly announced that in order to stay on schedule we had to leave immediately. He then began walking back to the van and everyone had to follow. Similarly, if the weather is conducive, we have been known to take guests directly from the airport in Cape Town to Table Mountain to ensure an opportunity to enjoy the view before the clouds inevitably roll in. 

Mr. Deep and I are efficient, decisive and we like to have fun. These traits combined with the limited time our American friends have to spend in South Africa formed the foundation for TPT which is proudly communicated in our succinct yet memorable slogan which we state repeatedly to ensure compliance with company policy "Move Your Ass!"

I Don't Trail

There is a phrase you hear a lot in expat life and that is trailing spouse. The trailing spouse is the person who followed the person whose job required him or her to move to a new place. I am a trailing spouse because we came here for Mr. Deep's job. 

But I don't feel like a trailer. 

I know that some people struggle with their role as a trailing spouse. Hopefully this post doesn't make it sound like I am minimizing their challenges. I subscribe to the walk a mile (or a kilometre) in my shoes mentality. I have no way to know what circumstances led other people to end up trailing or whether or not they wanted to trail in the first place. I only know my situation and I will describe it so you can understand it. There are circumstances which have led to my acceptance and love for my role as the spouse who came here with someone who had a job. 

First, I was part of the decision. Not just the decision to move to South Africa but the decision made years and years ago that we would be mobile and willing to move for a job opportunity. Mr. Deep and I knew that the company he worked for in the U.S.A. was global and that one of the best ways to move up the ladder was to accept an overseas assignment. Mr. Deep was asked on several occasions if he would be open to moving to another country. We discussed it and for both of us our answer was a resounding yes. 

A few relocation opportunities came Mr. Deep's way over the years but nothing ever came to fruition. Meanwhile, I was working. I had a good job. I was well respected, I liked the organization I worked for. I made good money. But I also felt trapped. I had worked for the same company for nearly 20 years. I was very busy with work, business travel and such and I felt like my life was passing me by. I was constantly in a rush at both work and at home. I thought about other types of work that I could do but I was too scared to do something that would cause me to earn less money.  I saw no way out other than having someone take me away and give me an excuse to start over. And then Mr. Deep told me he had a job opportunity in South Africa.

I have written before about that conversation but what I may have left out is that I told Mr. Deep (and I'm pretty sure my teeth were gritted at the time and I may have even poked him repeatedly in the chest with my index finger while speaking) "whatever you need to do to make this happen, you do it. I want to move to South Africa." I realize this makes me sound like a combination of Claire Underwood and Veruca Salt. But the way I saw it, Mr. Deep was giving me the chance to have a whole new life and I desperately wanted it. 

It wasn't about not wanting to work anymore because at the time of this conversation I didn't even know that wouldn't be able to work in South Africa. But I was attracted to the idea of living somewhere else, filling my days in new ways, meeting new people, trying new food and living in a different house. I wanted to push the reset button on my life.

The other thing that makes my situation different from others is that we don't have any kids. And let's all be honest: EVERYTHING in life is easier when you don't have kids. Except when you're old and you die and no one notices for days. But that's a blog post for another time. In our new life in South Africa I don't have to worry about whether any kids are happy or adjusting and I don't have to worry about finding schools and all of that. Of course I care about Mr. Deep's happiness but I don't care about it any more or any less than I ever have no matter where we have lived. It's the same as it ever was. And I believe Mr. Deep is pretty happy. 

Sure, I miss earning my own money. No wait, I miss having my own money, I don't necessarily miss the part where you have to go and earn it.  But Mr. Deep has never once made me feel like a lesser part of our relationship. He makes no comments when I spend money, he doesn't come home from work and ask in a sarcastic manner what I did all day. He doesn't roll his eyes when he comes home and I am in my grubby gym clothes sporting obviously newly polished nails. You might think well good he shouldn't act in a disparaging manner but I can't say that I would be so kind to the non-worker. In fact I know I would not be. There was a point in our lives when Mr. Deep didn't work and I did spend plenty of time eye rolling and worse.

Yes, there are things that I gave up in order to move here. We both did. I was the one who gave up my job but we both have friends and family who we miss seeing and spending time with. But as the "spouse who came along for the ride" I have gained so much more than I have lost. Having said all this when Mr. Deep tells me it is time to move away from here he will have to drag me kicking and screaming. 

"Maybe it's true that we don't know what we have until we lose it. But it's also true that we don't know what we're missing until we find it." - unknown.

I've Got Issues

When I first began writing this blog I planned to write about two main topics, our new life in South Africa and my dramatically changed life due to no longer working.

Since then pretty much every post has been about our lives and experiences in South Africa. I only mention my not working here and there. There's a reason for this. It's amazing not to work. Sorry but it's true. I have drafted many posts that remain unpublished about my non working life and it always comes out sounding like bragging. It would be like if I wrote a post about how I never have to clean my own house. No one wants to hear it. People do not want to sit in a cubicle at work and read a blog post about how great it is not to be working. So I have avoided the topic.

But now that I've broached the subject, I want to focus on something that I've learned about myself during this time of not working. When I worked, as outlined in this post, I blamed most of my problems in life on my job. If I was short with my husband it was because I was stressed out at work, if I didn't make it to the gym it's because I was too busy at work, if I declined a social invitation it was because I was too tired from work. You get the idea.

Now there is no work but yet most of my problems are still with me  (except my hair has grown back so that's a good thing.) Yes work exacerbated certain traits or behaviors but my issues remain.  One of the things that I have realized about myself is that I am often annoyed. I'm not angry - there is a difference. But I am easily annoyed.

In the draft version of this post I listed an entire paragraph of things that annoy me. But when Mr. Deep, my editor, read it he said it sounded like venting. So I will only list five things that annoy me here. If you wish to have the full and original list just let me know and I will send to you. 

I'm annoyed when people are late. I'm annoyed when I'm late. I'm annoyed by dogs that bark constantly. I'm annoyed when Mr. Deep cooks food and uses way more plates, pots, pans and utensils than necessary and then leaves all of the above for me to clean up. And, I'm annoyed by people who are rude to waitstaff. 

Living in South Africa makes me more aware of my annoyance problem as I am aware that most of the things that I let annoy me are ridiculous. While I am muttering under my breath about how stupid I think those baby on board signs that people hang on their car windows are, other people, who have real problems, such as no money and no food seem to be genuinely not annoyed and jolly. How do they do it? 

I asked Charles about it because I know, as a car guard, people are rude to him all the time. And if someone is rude to me I find it (you guessed it) annoying. He said that rudeness doesn't bother him. I pushed him on it because how can it not be annoying (and painful) when people treat you poorly and talk down to you when you are just trying to eek out a living and survive? He told me that once he said good morning to a guy and the man replied "F%&# you." I'm sorry what? I would be so annoyed. No, I'd be furious. I would probably reply "F%&# you too." As an aside I would make a horrible car guard. Charles said when people are rude to him he says, "thank you God. I see you." What does that even mean? How does that work? I have a lot to learn.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

For me living in South Africa is my big chance in life. It's my big chance to try new things and spend time doing activities that I enjoy. If I can think of something that I've always wanted to do or if I want to try something that I've never thought of doing before, now is the time. Throughout life we imagine hobbies or interests we'd like to pursue but we tell ourselves we don't have time and often we really don't. But I have time and now is my big chance. 

Maybe it's due to growing up in the era of Rocky Balboa or possibly I have pent up aggression but when I heard that a new boxing gym opened nearby I was intrigued and I wanted to try it. I should note that throughout my life I have often been intrigued and wanted to try things for what turned out to be the wrong reasons. I joined the band in high school because I thought it would be cool to march during football games and parades (by the way it's not cool at all it totally sucks.) I went to gymnastics camp because I wanted to join the gymnastics team so I could get the cool letter jacket. I have run marathons and half marathons so I could get the medals and have stronger looking legs but not because of any love of running. Similarly, I wanted to go to the boxing gym because I think wearing boxing gloves is cool and I want to have strong chiseled arms.

I also thought it would be a good idea for Mr. Deep and I to check out Fight Club (that's the name of the gym) together. While Mr. Deep and I are spending time together on the weekends and when we go on trips we aren't doing as many activities together as we used to before we moved here. We used to go to the gym together after work and now I go alone during the day. We don't run together because Mr. Deep is a lot faster than I am. We don't watch basketball together and root for our favorite team anymore because there is no basketball to watch. We don't talk about what happened on Howard Stern show because we can no longer listen. We don't cook dinner together because dinner making clearly falls under the Ops Department and Mr. Deep is not a member of the Ops team. So I asked him if he would go with me to Fight Club for a free trial and he agreed.

I wasn't sure what to expect from the free trial and we weren't given much information. The email confirmation said to bring water and a sweat towel so I imagined there would be some kind of exertion. But often when you visit gyms you also get an orientation of some kind so I thought that might be part of it. 


When we arrived we didn't have to sign any forms, present a doctor's note or even give a phone number. Yes, we had signed up in advance for the free trial but we never even gave our names when we checked in. I love the absence of formality and lack of concern over potential lawsuits in South Africa. 

We were put into a group with about ten other people. I am not sure if they were also there trying out the gym or if they were members. I was glad to see I wasn't the least fit of the bunch. I know it's petty but come on, you don't want to be the person who has to run out of the class to throw up. I was also probably the oldest woman in the group. I thought that was good from an expectations management standpoint. I considered telling the other women my age just so they would know for sure how old I am but I didn't get a chance. Chris, the trainer, asked us about our fitness level which of course Mr.Deep and I both described as "very good." He then wrapped our hands with a cloth band while Mr. Deep made comments like, "cut me Mick." 

To begin we had to run four laps around the parking lot. While I don't particularly like running I can run and I recently ran a 5k so I knew I could do it. My big concern was I didn't wear the right bra for running. The bra I wore was more appropriate for punching so that was not ideal. We ran the four laps and then Chris put boxing gloves on us. Yes, it's as cool as it sounds. We were hustled into an area with a bunch of bags and went through a series of drills. Many had to do with punching like left right left right really fast or punching left left left left etc. While we were busy punching the trainers walked around and gave advice about stance and form. In between bouts of punching we had to do jumping jacks, push ups, squats etc. 

After that we had to run again, this time two laps. If anyone stopped to walk (I didn't) the trainers told them no walking run, run, run. The running was o.k. but I've never had my arms hurt while running before. The punching was hard work! We then headed back inside for more activity. We did dips and fast step ups (two sets each) and then moved to another area where we held big weights (10kg for men and 5kg for women and a kg is 2.2 pounds by the way) above our heads and did fast knee lifts and then alternated with kettle bell swings. Twice. Finally we moved into the "ring" where we did crunches of various kinds before a cool down with stretching to end the class.

Throughout the class Mr. Deep shot me a few glances that indicated that he was not having fun and that he possibly wanted to kill me. It was really an intense work out. The first words Mr. Deep said to me after class were "having fun signing up" because he knew I would. And I will. These arms aren't going to chisel themselves. 

Somehow I was cut out of the two group photos taken by the club staff. I was standing right next to the girl with the red gloves. Now I have a complex thinking I was purposely cut because my arms are too flabby especially compared to hers. 

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.