Minor Details

I like details, organization and cleaning out closets.  I also like adventures and trying new things. I am not so focused on having everything a certain way that I can't go with the flow but I am not so wild and free as to have a messy junk drawer in my kitchen. 

We stayed at a unique hotel in the middle of the Namibian desert called Le Mirage.  We enjoyed Le Mirage but Le Mirage could use a bit more focus on details. Even as I write this post you might notice if you click the link to the Le Mirage website that there is a typo in their headline. In fairness, Le Mirage is located in the middle of nowhere and that's got to be difficult, not that being located in the middle of nowhere explains the typo but if you've been reading my blog you know I also have typos sometimes. I'm not perfect. 

Back to Le Mirage. The staff stay on site in staff quarters because there are no towns nearby. The food has to be flown or trucked in and the chef has to work with what he gets. There is no way to run out to the store for a few things. Le Mirage provides all daily meals for guests and also offers activities, otherwise there would be nothing to do. While the phrase daily activities might conjure up images of shuffleboard on the Lido Deck, I can assure you that the activities offered at Le Mirage are a little more exciting. 

The first activity we signed up for was quad biking in the desert. You might know quad biking better as four wheeling. At our scheduled quad biking time we all met up and waited near the bikes for our guide to arrive. He finally arrived seeming kind of annoyed. He said he had been waiting for us inside. Not a big deal but we were never told where we should meet him (detail) so to us meeting by the bikes seemed appropriate. 

I'm not sure if he was mad at us or if he just didn't feel like sharing the details of how to pilot a quad bike but regardless our quad bike orientation was very brief and not too informative. It went something like this "this is your gas, this is your front brake but don't use it or you will flip over, this is your back brake, this is your clutch, o.k. let's go." We then spent five minutes asking questions such as "which one is is the gas, which one is the front brake, which one is the back brake and which one is the clutch?" In true Africa form we signed no paperwork. We did however wear helmets. 

Riding a quad bike isn't that difficult but there were a few details that were omitted from our not so in depth overview. First, part of the quad bike, the part right by your right calf gets very hot as you ride and if your leg touches it, it hurts. I did know this from a time I rode go-karts but a reminder from our guide couldn't have hurt whereas brushing your leg against hot metal does. Second, we were told we had a clutch but we weren't really told how to use it. I did what I would do if I were driving a car, when the engine revved to a certain point, I switched gears. I was pretty proud of myself cruising around, flying through the sand, shifting gears like a pro, until I was in too high a gear, hit deep sand and then couldn't move. Mr. Deep had to get off his bike and bail me out. For some reason I didn't know how to downshift. Mr. Deep used a different approach and didn't shift at all. He spent the entire two hour session cruising around in first gear. Not sure if his quad bike is still functioning properly.

I told you Namibia looks like a another planet. 

The second activity involved an early morning drive to Sossusvlei to see the sand dunes including the largest dune in the area, known as Big Daddy.  We left Le Mirage at 5:30 a.m. when it was still dark. Our guide (different guy than quad bike guy) drive drove us into Namib-Naukluft National Park. What a beautiful place. 

Sand dunes look just as you would imagine. Just like in the movies. I expected to see guys riding camels coming over the ridge at any time. When we arrived at Big Daddy our guide told us we could climb up it and pointed to an area where he said we should make a turn and come back down. He said he would meet us on the back side of the dune. There were four of us and as we looked at where he was pointing from from the ground it wasn't really obvious where we would descend and meet him. I guess we all assumed these details would become clear as we walked up. 

While it was warm, it wasn't scorching hot as you might imagine the desert to be. There were some groups of other tourists climbing the dunes (lots of Europeans they seem to love Namibia) and some older people. I was impressed with the older people as climbing the dunes wasn't easy. As we walked our feet sunk into the sand. The sand was soft and velvety and gorgeous to look at. 

When we reached the point where we thought we should head back down none of us were sure which side to go down. The backside wasn't clear because as you know if you face one side the backside is behind you and if you face the opposite way the backside is again behind you. By now we were so high up that if our guide was standing down below somewhere waiting for us we couldn't see him, we could see people below but no distinguishing features. We discussed and unanimously agreed to go down the left hand side. I was tempted to just try to ski, run or roll down the side of the dune but I didn't want to get sand in my clothes and hair so I walked. 

At the bottom (on both sides of the dune) were salt pans. Salt pans are flat white areas of hard ground where over millions of years water has evaporated leaving salt and minerals behind. We explored the salt pans for a while still seeing no sign of our guide. We then determined that our guide must have meant that he would meet us back at the vehicle so we walked across the salt pans and over more smaller dunes back to the parking area. He had said "I will meet you" but as English wasn't his first language meeting he could have meant I will wait for you. When we arrived at the truck our guide was not there. 

Salt pans and close ups below. 

Another guide from Le Mirage was in the parking lot meeting another group and he seemed confused to see us alone. He asked us where our guide was. We explained that we couldn't find him. The other guide told us that our guide was waiting for us on the other side of the dune (the side that we didn't choose) a side that in my detail oriented mind would be called the right side not the backside or if I wanted to be more abstract I might have described it as the side with more trees vs. less trees, but who needs these details when backside provides for a much more interesting story.

The men went out to find him and when they returned with our guide, everyone was fine. I think in America we would have been angry at the guide and the guide at us but this was Namibia where details matter less.  

As we were leaving the park we stopped to see the Sesrium Canyon and walked down into it to explore a bit. 

Deep in the canyon.

A Privilege

At the end of March, Confidence graduated from University of Johannesburg (UJ) with a diploma in accounting.  

Graduating from university is a big achievement. It's been over 20 years since my college graduation and I'm still a little surprised that I was able to do it. Not because the school work was all that difficult but because at the time, it would have been easier for me not to go to college than it was for me to go if that makes any sense at all. Now, as a forty-something year old, I realize that I was given every opportunity in life so while graduating was something to celebrate, not graduating would have been a travesty. But enough about me. 

Confidence was not given every opportunity in life. If she had not gone to university, or if she had tried and found it too difficult because of the fees and costs, her government school education prior to, or the fact that she slept on a dirt floor with rats because she didn't have enough money to live in better conditions while in school it would have been understandable. But somehow she did it.  Which tells you all you need to know about Confidence. 

Confidence invited me to attend her graduation ceremony. Each graduate was given just three tickets and Confidence invited her mother, her father and me. Usually in life when we are invited to a big event to celebrate an important occasion, it's not a surprise, we expect to be invited and we are angry if we aren't. But I didn't expect to be invited and without question Confidence inviting me to attend her graduation is one of the greatest honors of my life. 

At the same time, I felt a little bad about it. I wondered if Confidence had extended the invitation to me and then immediately thought of thirty other people that she'd wished she'd invited instead. I gently gave her several opportunities to un-invite me. Not because I didn't want to go, but because if she decided that one of her brothers or an old friend or someone else should attend in my place, I wanted her to be able to invite that person. But she insisted that she wanted me there and so I went. 

Being one of the three invitees meant that I spent most of graduation day with Confidence's parents. I had never met them before and I couldn't help but wonder if they were wondering what I was doing there. Keep in mind, I only met Confidence in December of 2016 and by then, she was already poised to graduate. I played no role in helping her or assisting her throughout her college career. 

Confidence, her parents and her diploma. 

If her parents were wondering why I was there, they didn't show it. They were warm and welcoming and funny and nice. Oh, and they were young. About six years younger than I am. Suddenly everyone in the world is younger than me! While I credit Confidence for what she was able to endure and all of the hard work she put into her education, I think some credit goes to her parents. Somehow in the most turbulent, dirty, dangerous, vigilante-justice ridden environment that I've ever encountered in my life, Diepsloot, they kept her on the right path. Or you could argue that Confidence was just born with something inside her that kept her right. Likely it was a combination.

It's clear from what Confidence has told me that her parents were very, very strict with her when she was growing up and they remain so with her brothers.  Her brothers were unable to attend the graduation (no not because I stole the last ticket) because it was a school day and the parents wouldn't let them miss a day of school. 

After the ceremony we took lots of photos of Confidence and her family and friends out on the UJ campus in the hot summer sun. We posed on the perfectly green lawn and in front of the fountains (does every college have a fountain?) And there I am in some of the photos, where I will remain for eternity as the sole white face.  Maybe one day when Confidence is old she will look at the photos and ask herself "what was the name of that white lady?" Hopefully not, as that would mean that she and I would have lost touch. 

Who is that second from the left? 

Confidence's dad asked her what was next and she said that she plans to get her degree (three years for a diploma and four years for a degree) and then her masters and then her PhD. She told him, "you'd better get used to going to graduations because you're going to be going to a lot of them."

Confidence and her mom. 

Harsh

In the middle of the Namibian Desert.

Once, I wrote a blog post titled, Not For Sissies. I wrote it a while ago but fast forward to now and I still think life in South Africa can be hard. Electricity and water might stop working without warning and even if there is warning it doesn't help much. Homeless beggars stand in the streets pointing to their mouths to let you know that they are hungry. Sometimes, the beggars don't even stand in the streets, they sit or kneel in between the lanes at intersections. I am not sure if they do this because they are too hungry and weak to stand or because they are hoping to be hit by a car. Mothers also stand on street corners with their young children in tow, begging for spare change or food. The kids at the Diepsloot school come to school with torn uniforms which leads me to think that either no at one home has the means to sew and repair the items or no one cares to. Which is worse? I'm not sure. 

We just returned from Namibia a country I would describe as harsh. While South Africa can wear on you emotionally, whether you're frustratedly trying to renew your TV license or feeling concerned for a person you care about who is barely holding on and surviving. Namibia, wears on you physically. Don't misunderstand my use of the word harsh to mean that I wish I didn't go to Namibia or that I didn't like it. On the contrary I loved it and it would have been a shame to have skipped it. 

Namibia lies to the northwest of South Africa and borders Botswana to the east and Angola and Zambia to the north. It's western boundary is the Atlantic Ocean. I have wanted to visit Namibia ever since someone described it to me as "looking like another planet."

Much of Namibia is desert (both the Namib and the Kalahari) and the desert runs right into the ocean. Our first stop was a place called Swakopmund located on the shores of the Atlantic near Walvis Bay. I'll write about Swakopmund shortly but this post is about our road trip from Swakopmund to a place called Sesrium near Sossusvlei which is a famous area for those who know about Namibia. 

I realized as we began the drive that I haven't spent much time in deserts. I've been to Phoenix and Las Vegas a few times each. Once, I drove from Tucson to Phoenix and another time I drove from Albuquerque to Santa Fe but that's pretty much the extent of my desert experiences. When I think of the desert I think of three things, Chevy Chase running around with his pants tied around his head in National Lampoons Vacation, snakes and dry skin.  

The drive began on a paved road which quickly changed to gravel at which time it became difficult to see where the road ended and the non road began. As we drove, the landscape kept changing from orange sand to brown and flat with occasional small shrubs to dark brown and rocky ground and then back to flat lands with green grass so fine it could barely be seen. We passed areas where trees were growing and other spots where we saw were nothing but rocks. 

If it had been up to me we would have stopped a thousand times so I could take photos of some of the most unique earth I've ever seen but of course that would not have been practical so you will have to settle for photos taken from the car through the window while moving. 

Where does the road end? 

Notice the dark clouds. Who says it never rains in the desert? 

While we did see other vehicles on the road, we passed through only one town the entire trip (305 km/190 miles.) The town is appropriately named Solitaire. Referring to Solitaire as a town is being generous as it's a gas station with a shop and a restaurant. I think the employees live on site as well. As we drove we saw no pedestrians and no houses. There were some fences, so someone owns some land somewhere and we saw a few signs for lodges along the way. But that was all. It was desolate. Not to be overly dramatic but if your car broke down and no one stopped to help you you could die. That's Namibia. And don't worry, I'm sure someone would stop....eventually. 

The other thing I noticed as I stared out the window were lots of used tires (or tyres as we like to say here in Southern Africa) strewn on the side of the road. I began counting them and had just reached number 26 when our own vehicle began to weave and make a funny noise. In an ironic twist of fate we had a flat tyre.

Flat is not the best way to describe our tyre. Shredded would be a better word. It was so shredded that part of the tread was stuck underneath the SUV where the jack needed to be placed. While Mr. Deep and our friend were changing the tyre, the rain started. And if that wasn't all bad enough then the hail started. I told you Nambia is harsh. And while there are times that I wish Mr. Deep cared a little more about fashion or took an interest in properly moisturizing his skin I was never so glad as I was in the middle of Namibia to be married to such a manly man who can and does change a shredded tyre in the middle of a hailstorm. 

Fortunately the tyre shredding took place not far from Solitaire and when we arrived we found out that Solitaire has a tyre shop. Clearly tyre repairs and replacement are very necessary services in this part of the world. The tyre was replaced allowing us a new spare in case we needed it on the remainder of our trip. Luckily we did not. 

The shop in Solitaire.

More to come from Namibia soon. 

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.