Bash the what? (& no mun no fun)

Just when I think I am beginning to understand how things work here in Africa something comes along and confuses me.

For instance today when I went to the ‘hole in the wall’ to get money out to pay for those Kettlebell from hell classes the machine said to me

Request denied Error 68

The last time I had a denied request like that it was because someone had been draining our bank account after cloning my card when I used it at Joburg airport and my heart sank that the thought of going through that process again. I remembered the drama, the police reports, the bank reports, the six trips back and forward between the two because no one could tell me which forms to fill out when and where. So I thought – I’ll just check the balance because it’s probably happened again. Only I couldn’t check the balance, at the machine or online, because all access to our bank account had been cut off.

Surely this has nothing to do with our recently applied for visas I thought?!? After all we had been back and forth with the immigration consultant and the bank several times on what we needed to do and provide to ensure while our visas were being processed our accounts weren’t frozen. We had supplied all the paperwork and documents they had asked for.

But no harm in a quick phone call to check with our ‘private banker’ (fancy schmancy title for not a lot I can tell you) who had promised to monitor our accounts daily until our visas were approved to ensure no problems. Hmmm looks like she forgot about that today – Um, Um, I’ll just check and get back to you.

Ten minutes later as I am standing in a shopping mall, ready to shop – Ahhh, yes – that’s correct, the paperwork is apparently not what we need…..

Cue suppressed swearing and shouting from me – and calmly asking what is it we could do to lift this ban on our accounts.

Hmm – not sure yet so will have to get back to you on that.

Cue less suppressed tonal changes and anxious and louder than usual ‘discussion’ tone to voice my displeasure on the subject.

Then I went shopping.

The issue remains tonight unresolved, so I am very glad we had already paid our electricity bill for the month so I have my venting devices on hand – fully charged, as I await my husband to return home from a work dinner that I imagine someone else will be paying for.

What all this means is I still don’t understand how many things in this country work – so I wanted to put the question to South Africans here and away, other nationalities near and far and ask this.

Did anyone else grow up – in any country – where this was part of your school ‘Fun Days’ or local carnivals, as it was part of my children’s recent School Fun Day?

Bash the Skadonk?!?

Did you do this as a child? Is R10 an expensive bash?The 'Skadonk'

In my best Pauline Hanson voice (you have to be Australian to get that) PLEASE EXPLAIN?

I am only sorry (or not) that I don’t have the third photo in the series which was a five year old boy with a baseball bat having proudly handed over this ten rand for his turn to bash.

At the time I was confused – but the more I think about my bank experiences today, the more I understand.

The 'Skadonk'

My MacGuyver parenting moment

About a year ago I wrote a post about international plane travel – mostly from the point of view of the traveler who has kids but was not traveling with them at the time.

The trauma from a recent trip to Australia from South Africa that included my precious little ones (gee it’s a REALLY long way you know) prevents me from updating that post immediately to include 453 456 new items – however I have one tip to share and I think it’s a must for those that travel with small and demanding children. It’s also my only MacGuyver parenting moment of note that I can recall in the nearly 8 years I have had children so I am sharing it.

BUT, it is a wee (urine) story so opt out now if you are rolling your eyes and thinking – Why must parents always talk about their children’s bathroom habits in such detail?

Right – anyone left here goes.

It was a dark and stormy afternoon December afternoon in Sydney – really stormy and the flight from Joburg that was bringing my husband to assist on this month long living out of a suitcase ‘holiday’ and in particular to meet the flight we were about to board to Adelaide was diverted to Melbourne. Did I care that he was on a 15-hour trip that had just had a diversion and would now make it a 20+ hours? Did I care he was going through terrible turbulence and diverting to Melbourne put him tantalizingly close to Adelaide but he would just have to wait in the plane on the tarmac until he flew onto Sydney and then back to Adelaide? NO NO NO!

All I cared about was the fact that I was at the airport waiting for a delayed, full flight to Adelaide (they seem to give his seat away quick smart) and I was going to have to once again do it with my two children by myself.

Don’t get me wrong my kids are great travelers the good little TCK’s they are. TCK’s – Third Culture Kids a cool new term they can be referred to as because after all don’t we all want another label? Wikipedia says a TCK is – someone who, as a child, has spent a significant period of time in one or more culture(s) other than his or her own, thus integrating elements of those cultures and their own birth culture, into a third culture. So lets say so far their third culture highlights are they know what Chinese New Year is all about (receiving red packets) and they can sing Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika, (which lets be honest not even every South African knows all the words to) AND can discuss both of these while eating a vegemite sandwich, that’s cultural integration for you. They both have spent more than their fair share of time on planes, both belong to frequent flyer programs and are any moment about to share their points with their mother for a return trip to an exotic overseas destination – just for her – to pay me back for all the trips from hell I have taken them on over the years.

So for a hardened traveling mother such as myself what is a little flight from Sydney to Adelaide – less than two hours long – with Master 7 and Miss 4? A walk in the park, right? Things to know about Miss 4 – she has the world’s smallest bladder and a burning desire to see the inside of every public bathroom facility in the known Universe.

Delayed flight, full flight, harassed flight attendants, storm, ‘where is daddy?’ Am I setting the scene?

‘Lets board the families with small children first’ comes the announcement – always a tough choice – do you want the kids to have space to move around in for as long as possible which is found in the departure lounge more readily than in the economy class section of an airplane or do you want to get them in their seats – and get your 25kg of ‘hand luggage’ stowed away before everyone else gets on the plane and takes all the space so you spend the whole flight with your knees under your chin due to baggage placement issues (yes I am the traveler everyone can’t believe got through with that much hand luggage)? It was here that my years of experience and in fact all reason seemed to abandon me, I was so sick of fielding the ‘when are we getting on the plane?’ questions that I opted to join the early boarders.

‘I’m going to vomit’ screamed Miss 4 as we stepped from the walkway onto the plane – cue flight attendant shoving us both into the business class toilet at the front of the plane while Master 7 went on ahead to choose a seat that suited him 2B – um no.

Five minutes and many vomit bags being passed to us later – the crisis was apparently averted as Miss 4 announced she was satisfied with the bathroom facilities should she need to use them later and we could now proceed to our seats – leaving us in the middle of the boarding process with everyone else now blocking the way of my impatient children and Master 7 having a serious discussion with the boarding pass holder of seat 2B about whose seat it really was.

Ensconced in our seats with at least half of our ‘hand luggage’ stored away and children settling into some electronic entertainment – boarding was completed – seatbelts fastened – taxi to runway, correction, taxi to queue of eight planes near runway – announcement from Captain –

‘Thanks for your patience we are number eight in the queue, at least 30 mins until take off please remain in your seats with your seatbelt fastened.’

‘I need to do a wee’ screamed Miss 4.

‘Can you wait?’ Desperate mother asks.

‘No – I need to do it Now Now’ (more TCK evidence, use of South African conversational terminology not evident 18 months ago when we moved here)

‘Please just wait til we take off and the seatbelt sign goes off’

Escalating voice ‘No, I need to do a wee NOW NOW’

Same conversation happens for next few minutes.

At this point all the other passengers are staring – as they do – if you are a mother you are used to it and generally immune – one gentlemen says ‘If I were you I’d just take her – see how you go’.

I thought it’s got to be better than this. ‘Get up, lets go’.

‘Stop, sit down’ scream the strapped in flight attendants – goodness knows how they can see us from so far away up the front. I am now the person that everyone looks at when they do the follow up announcement

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I know it is a long wait but please DO NOT remove your seatbelts or get out of your seats’

The Captain has just told us we are going to be here for at least 20 more minutes lady – are you serious!?!?! If only we were on a domestic flight in China where everyone just gets up and walks around when they want to, my bathroom problem would be solved.

Miss 4 – screaming escalating – Master 7 pleading with me to do something to get her to be quiet. Amid all the drama I have my MacGuyver moment.
I look at the many sick bags I have stored in the seat back in front of me and pull two of them out and perform the ‘double bag’ manoeuvre and then direct Miss 4 to take her seatbelt off and stand up and drop her pants. Can you see where this is going? Master 7 – who was sitting in the seat between us could see and he was NOT happy.

‘Gross! You can’t make her wee in the bag, its going to go every where and it might get me’ Hands go over ears and eyes shut (few sensory issues going on there but this one isn’t about him 😉

Miss 4 was interested enough that I might have the solution to her problems that she calmed down long enough to stop squealing and actually follow my instructions – can I tell you – she really needed to go, that bag was pretty full by the time she was done and so I added an extra layer to ensure no leakage would be occurring. I scrounged around for some wet wipes in one of the bags we had to keep with us due to overhead locker overcrowding and Voila! Not a drop spilled anywhere – equal credit to Miss 4 and myself for that one. Not bad I say.

Happy 4yo, happy passengers and lets face it Qantas should also be happy with me because I surely saved them from a wet seat and complaining passengers. As soon as we took off and the seatbelt sign went off I made a beeline for the bathroom to dispose of my triple bagged package and two people in front of me said

‘Oh you go ahead doesn’t your little girl need to use the bathroom?’

‘All over’ I say holding up the bag, proud of my MacGuyver moment.

The moral of the story is – when traveling with small kids stockpile the sick bags, they have more than one use.

What is your MacGuyver moment? I know there’s got to be plenty that can top that one – but this one was mine and I remain proud.

Peace at last….looking for the next perfect moment

I started writing this weeks ago – before the start of what turns out was a pretty amazing sporting tournament held in South Africa that also coincided with the longest set of school holidays I have ever experienced. To clarify – the longest set of school holidays I have ever experienced that wasn’t Christmas holidays – without Gina.

When I started writing this post we had been in South Africa for just under eleven months – today we have been here for 366 days – I know this because it is my sister-in-law’s birthday – Happy 40^th Manos – and last year on our second day here she called us to remind us it was her birthday while we were on our first trip to the beach in Ballito on what turned out to be a standard winter’s day for Durban –warm and sunny and beach worthy.

Anyway-

I remember the exact moment when I thought my life was perfect. I know that because I thought it strange I had never felt that way before – I’m not sure why.  I remember because I thought that if I said it out loud – even to my husband or my BFF then it would be jinxed and something would go horribly wrong.  Well – need not have bothered about that – here’s the thing I know now – if you think your life is perfect even for a millisecond, tell everyone – take out an ad, hire a billboard, have a party – do anything because whether it continues or not has nothing to do with if you say it out loud or not.  If you feel it – you might as well tell everyone cause it’s a really feel good kind of thing.

Of course there had been wonderful, exciting and amazing moments in my life before then.  The day(s) I had gotten a job I thought I had desperately wanted, got married, given birth (especially the second time because after all I was staying for five nights in the equivalent of a luxury hotel or hotel/spital as I have seen it recently referred to on facebook) were all very happy, fulfilling and exhilarating days and times but I don’t recall actually thinking that my life was perfect.

The moment I did think it was at night, my husband and I were driving home from the Hong Kong Football Club after a dinner with friends and we were discussing the pros and cons of buying a property that would essentially be a holiday place, rather than an investment property – a waterfront spot – the last one left in a tiny hamlet on St Georges Basin on the south coast of NSW where my family had holidayed since I was very small.  We decided that yes we would try to do it.

Not at the time we made the decision but during the discussion sometime I recall thinking – I love my life right now so much, it feels perfect.  Immediately and subconsciously I tried to hide the thought DANGER – DANGER Will Robinson!! I thought I couldn’t say it out loud because it was difficult to explain and because I didn’t want it to change and because somehow by just thinking that I felt I had already changed it. So weird and a tad too serious for my usual thought processes but there you have it.

Why did I think my life was perfect right then? I can’t say exactly. We had been living in Hong Kong for nearly six years, we had two gorgeous children who were at times like all children quite a challenge – but generally loveable and we weren’t planning to give them away any time soon, my mother who had been diagnosed two years earlier with stage IV colon cancer was inexplicably currently ‘cancer free’, we had a wonderful group of friends who we viewed as our HK family, we both had jobs we enjoyed and found fulfilling, we were having multiple amazing holidays annually – family, boys & girls weekends and just about any other kind you can think of and we were financially at a point where we felt that we were doing the ‘right thing’ sensible savings plan and all that.  There were still of course down sides to our lives – we lived far away from our families and my father in law was very sick (he passed away soon after). We lived in high pollution a lot of the time – some days you could not see from one side of the harbour to the other – a five minute ferry ride could be conducted shrouded in pollution based fog, but like most long term HK’ers we celebrated the blue sky days and put the terrible ones from our mind. Our son had been identified as having some issues and was diagnosed as ‘on the spectrum’ (aren’t we all?) and we were going through various educational support strategies with his school and teachers.

I don’t regret having that thought that night – I will just be very, very wary should I ever have it again – because it was probably a ‘perfect moment’ rather than something else that is more tangible with more longevity that I am still struggling to imagine. Too deep? Yes – for me too – I’m not even sure if I understand what that means but seriously can’t think of any other way to express it.

Almost the next week the feeling was punctured (although it had been dented when I thought of it momentarily and then immediately went into Danger mode) when the redundancies started at work – although I wasn’t made redundant in the first or second rounds my boss did mention to me that if I wanted to leave it was on the table, putting me a little off balance in the workplace  – along with just about everyone else in Hong Kong who worked for an investment bank, it was by no means personal.   My father in law passed away two days before we flew to Australia for Christmas holidays and then when we returned to Hong Kong after that trip my husband put South Africa on the table. ‘Perfect’ one minute to ‘spinning out of control’ in no time at all.

The rest is history – the South African thing got pushed at work but it was a good move for my husband and we made the decision together and for the right reasons, the redundancy came through – the move was on. Don’t get me wrong – so was The Festival of Farewells – it wasn’t all bad, it was just at a serious tangent from my ‘Perfect’ millisecond.

I had moved countries before – I knew approximately what I would experience in the process and estimated the time to ‘come through’ the other side of the move, settle the children, make some friends for them and some for me, get some hobbies started and hopefully get a job would be 6-9 months. I thought I was being conservative and talking it up big to everyone –

‘Oh you know – six months or so and we should be right. We’ve never moved with the kids before really so the important thing is settling them down and getting them in routine.’

Six months was Christmas and I was nowhere near settled – I’d just got my blinking phone line connected for goodness sake – South Africa was still all about

‘We’re new – we’re Australian but we have come via Hong Kong – we lived there for nearly seven years, yes we miss it very much, yes we loved it there, yes life here is very different………..’ – It is perhaps no wonder the locals were not throwing themselves at me to be my new BFF’s – it sounds like I do not like it here – do not speak to me.  I can perhaps see that now – but its not how I meant it, all the time.

In fact I cringe and smile now at the number of acquaintances I see now that ask me – ‘How are you settling in now? You seemed to be struggling a little bit before’

It was that obvious? Yes Nikki – it was.

What was wrong with me? Please let me pause here and say – I did have some friends by this time – very lovely friends, friends I will have for a long time if not forever – but it isn’t only your family & friends that make somewhere home to you – if that sounds strange – you’ve still got to make your own peace with it – or I do anyway.

I don’t know the exact day that it happened – but it was made clear to me about six weeks ago when a friend – who I had added to my mental list of ‘People I would like to be better friends with because I think they are my kind of people, irrelevant of what they might think’ told me she was leaving after twelve months here, dammit, just as we had started doing Friday morning runs together – moving back to the UK, where her family had moved from as a work opportunity that couldn’t be passed up was on the table for them.  I realized if that were me – of course it’s all about me 😉 I wouldn’t want to move – I was in fact settled here in sunny Durbs, making friends, still trying to win over the locals, just starting the job search process, loving my African reading theme, learning more of the local lingo (for instance if you saw the word ‘gees’ how would you pronounce it?) and enjoying learning about politics as perhaps only someone with another country’s passport can.

This is really my home now – of course it already was, my family and all my stuff have been here for some time, but now, even though we still don’t have curtains – it really does feel like HOME and the next few years are all about building up to another ‘perfect’ millisecond or many of them because now I think somewhere out there – its waiting for me and I can tell you I have started looking & I’ll definitely be having a party this time.

South Africanisms as understood by me so far – kind of

Because there is yet no Luxe guide to South Africa (I truly hope someone is working on one pre-World Cup – if not for the humble Durbs for Jozi and Cape Town at least) I have had to find my own way amongst the plethora of terms that the locals use that are uniquely South African.

Growing up in Australia you are exposed to fairly large and fairly even amounts of British and American culture – primarily through TV so you generally know pretty much what they are talking about when you meet someone from each of those nations. In fact when an English person and an American are having a conversation it is often handy to have an Australian on hand for any translation issues.

So South Africa is another country that has a lot of English speakers with some historical roots in England how different can it be?

It wasn’t until I had waited for 3 hours for someone who was coming ‘just now’ that I felt the need to investigate what other translated information I might have to have on hand for future conversations with the locals. There are plenty of sites that you can search for South Africanisms on – and their explanations are a little more concise than mine – which I guess are the Australian take on what I am trying to learn for my cultural integration.

Things I have found out so far, which I imagine is just scratching the surface.

Just now – could be anytime between five minutes and three weeks – seriously! When people say they will see you just now – in their mind they know what they mean but they may never tell you unless you ask.  When we first moved here the guy delivering the fridge told me he would be there just now – I raced over to the house – which was empty at the time, to make sure someone would be there, an hour later I decided to start measuring window frames for curtains I still don’t have and half an hour after that decided to call the number on the invoice – the person at the other end told me – they would look into it and call me back – just now…….half an hour later (the shortest interpretation of just now I have ever experienced) they called me back to say the guy would be there just now with the fridge – OK I said but you need to give me a time frame.  So I learnt my lesson for that the hard way really, but it will no doubt save me hours if not days in the years ahead.

Now now – theoretically immediately or right now – but this is Africa so don’t hold your breath

Howzit – greeting used, means Hello – how are you? To which you must ALWAYS respond with a similar greeting – for example

Howzit?

Howzit?

Fineanyoo? – this is the South African way of saying – Fine and you? It is all melded together and has a specific singsong sound when spoken (in Durban at least).

It is a response to Hello, how are you – or – Howzit

Fine thanks OR Fineanyou? (it doesn’t seem to be important to listen to what the other person says.

For example I like to experiment in the supermarket with the checkout staff

Me – Hello

Them – fineanyoo? Or Fine thanks

What they thought they heard me say – Hello / Howzit / How are you?

It can be quite amusing because every conversation starts with

Hello, how are you

Reponse to which is

Fineanyoo /Hello fine thanks

People tend to hear it or reply that way even if you don’t actually say it.  When you just front up to some sort of counter and launch into your request  / query or issue people look at you strangely until you revert / relent (tick appropriate) and ask them how they are.  Then you can get on with it.

Bakkie – pronounced bucky. These are known in Aus at utes and come in all shapes and sizes – used primarily for transporting goods and people – yet to find a total number of people you can fit in the back of a bakkie but its certainly a number north of 15 (thats the highest number I have counted while at a set of robots).  Bakkie’s are also used if you are going to have a braai at the rugby and obviously for an array of off-road driving.

Takkie – pronounced takkie – an ‘a’ sound rather than the u sound that is used for bakkie. Takkie’s were on the school uniform list I was perusing in Hong Kong prior to arrival in SA, Takkie’s – plain white – had to refer to an expert in South African language skills to find out that it meant sandshoes / runners / trainers / sneakers

Robot  – this is a traffic light. The first time you hear – go left at the second robot is quite a funny moment – especially if a six year old is there to say – there aren’t any robots in South Africa! (quite appropriately covering for his parent who had no idea how to find the said robots)

Braai – while directly translated this means a barbeque, I am not sure the direct translation does it justice. The Braai is a very serious business to South Africans and you don’t just chuck a banger on the braai (name for the apparatus as well as the event as in other English speaking societies). For starters there are no bangers (sausages) but there are boerewors  – that are long curly suspicious looking items – the SA sausage equivalent.

A braai is generally quite a long event and involves copious amounts of drinks (may be alcoholic if you are an adult) – there are usually several courses of meats and accompaniments – generally it seems more complex than an Aussie bbq but is similar in that all the men stand / sit in one place and the women in another for the preparation and cooking phases (based on my limited experience so far).

Dagga – the mari-juana, you know, just in case you need to know

Lekker – good, nice, yummy – its all good.

Azwell – as well, which is how it is spelt here but it is definitely said as one word with a zzzz sound rather than an s.  It almost exclusively goes on the end of sentences, such as

I’m glad you said that, because we are also going to do that azwell (doesn’t seem needed after we are also going to do that – but is a comforting add on it seems in the spoken word)

Divine – pronounced anywhere from divine to divvvaaaaaiiiiiiine, depending on just how divine the item is. Divine is a more general term – meaning lovely, nice, good or obviously divine.

Shame – Shame or shame man are pronounced in a similar fashion to divine, depending on how much you mean it, depends on how much effort is put into the Shame / shaaaammmme.  

I have a headache

Oh – shame

My child broke his / her leg

Oh – Shhhaaaammmme

However it can also mean cute or sweet – sometimes

Get the idea?

Eish / Ish – difficult to explain – exclamation point, similar to Aiya in Hong Kong

Izit – is it. Not really a question more a statement, although sounds like a question (goes up at the end) – still really working that one out.  Used a lot in conversation – apparently if you don’t really have something to say in response to something someone has just said to you – you can use this

We went to the pool today

Izit?

My mother is coming to visit today from Australia

Izit?

Oke – just like bloke without the bl on the front and the same meaning

Ja – Yes, sure whatever – a bit like a cross between the German Ja and the English Yar

Boet – pronounced like foot (but with a b) means little brother but can also be a generalization to speak to anyone.  We have friends who call their youngest daughter boet, so we call her that that azwell and one day when we were out someone walking past called my son boet – I’m not boet he said – can’t you tell, she’s over there.

Car guard – while this has quite an obvious meaning but it is important to know the expectations so you do not risk your vehicle’s wellbeing in the car park or on the roads.  At the end of your parking time you give the car guard some coins if your car is still there and all the pieces are attached 😉

It seems a little unclear if you are paying to have your car protected from the car guard or someone else – either way it works well all around generally everyone is happy with the process.

I am still working on the etiquette of the car guard helping me put all my groceries into the car after quite a long visit to the supermarket vs running in to the ATM and requiring no assistance – should the amount be different or the same? 

There are some I have missed because I really still don’t understand them – will have a go at them some time in the future ;-), who knows there may be a Luxe guide by then to help us all through them.