|
South Africa: Me? Soutpiel? |
|
|
|
Written by Stephen Baines
|
|
Thursday, 16 November 2006 |
This week has been a rather odd experience. I was originally due to come to South Africa back in June, but for various reasons that didn't happen. I prepared to come this time, and spent the last couple of weeks being told "don't go" and "be very careful", and "don't do this" and "do this" and generally being given the impression that a trip to Johannesburg was only slightly more preferable to a one way ticket to Hell.
The journey here was interesting, for whatever reason SAS didn't issue me a boarding pass for the whole journey, so I had to faff about at Charles de Gaulle getting a new boarding pass, which didn't exactly thrill me. That was slightly preferable to the boarding the plane, and then the pilot announcing that the pressurisation system had failed and they were "trying to jam it in one position" and they "hoped that'd work for the journey" and that "running like that we hope we'll have enough fuel". Not really what you want to be hearing... It was a long long flight, and a cold one. But I got there, and the getting through customs was rather painless.
A colleague picked me up, and we set off for the hotel. A map book was thrown in my direction as we hopelessly tried to comprehend the junctions on the South African road network. One tour around a slightly worrying area, and we were back in the right direction and off to find the hotel, and admiring the wonderful jacaranda trees which are in full bloom. My main instructions for the journey from the airport were:
1. Put everything in the boot
2. Lock the door
3. Don't wind down the windows
4. Try not to look like a tourist
5. Try not to look like a local
6. Keep your eyes open
7. Don't stare in case it causes problems
Tricky to achieve all of those, but I guess we succeeded as I got to the hotel without being murdered.
I checked in, went to my room, and went to sleep for a few hours. Bliss.
The evening and night, and some of the next day, saw the most amazing thunderstorms. There is something wonderful about watching a storm in full force. I could only do it from my hotel room, as I was warned not to wander the streets. Mind you, the sign in the hotel room didn't exactly reassure me, telling me to double lock the door at all times, and if someone knocks on the door don't answer, and if you order room service, don't answer the door till you phone reception to check it's really them.
Usually on these sorts of trips I get an opportunity to see some of the local places and get a feel for the place. Sadly by this point most of my feels for the place were bound around even the locals telling me how scary and dangerous it is. As the week went on this was a common theme, with tellings of smash-and-grabs in cars, people being herded into rooms at the swimming pool so they could be robbed, and people getting carjacked etc. It doesn't exactly warm you to the place.
The guys on the training course were great, and I really enjoyed teaching them. In the process I learnt a Afrikaans word - they asked if I fancied working here and becoming a 'soutpiel'. They found the term hillarious, and eventually told me it means "Salt Dick". The origin being that the English that work here typically have one foot in South Africa and one foot in England, with their penis dangling in the ocean. An interesting term and rather amusing.
During meals out, chats, etc, everyone told me how much progress the country is making, how great democracy is becoming, and whilst I was here legislation was passed to make gay marriage legal. Not one person I spoke to has said they liked the days of apartheid and everyone said they believed in equality. Yet... Maybe it's being here and knowing it happened, and so you are ultrasensitive to things going on, but there was always the feeling of low level racism still existing and being normal. People split themselves into groups by race, little comments people made in passing, and how differently a white person serving someone would be treated than if it was a black person. Nothing outrageously obvious, but noticable. The odd comment would slip out, and the odd reaction, that betrayed something underneath that just made me feel uncomfortable.
The country has come a long long way in just a few years, but I really do doubt I could ever be a soutpiel.
This week has been a rather odd experience. I was originally due to come to South Africa back in June, but for various reasons that didn't happen. I prepared to come this time, and spent the last couple of weeks being told "don't go" and "be very careful", and "don't do this" and "do this" and generally being given the impression that a trip to Johannesburg was only slightly more preferable to a one way ticket to Hell.
The journey here was interesting, for whatever reason SAS didn't issue me a boarding pass for the whole journey, so I had to faff about at Charles de Gaulle getting a new boarding pass, which didn't exactly thrill me. That was slightly preferable to the boarding the plane, and then the pilot announcing that the pressurisation system had failed and they were "trying to jam it in one position" and they "hoped that'd work for the journey" and that "running like that we hope we'll have enough fuel". Not really what you want to be hearing... It was a long long flight, and a cold one. But I got there, and the getting through customs was rather painless.
A colleague picked me up, and we set off for the hotel. A map book was thrown in my direction as we hopelessly tried to comprehend the junctions on the South African road network. One tour around a slightly worrying area, and we were back in the right direction and off to find the hotel, and admiring the wonderful jacaranda trees which are in full bloom. My main instructions for the journey from the airport were:
1. Put everything in the boot
2. Lock the door
3. Don't wind down the windows
4. Try not to look like a tourist
5. Try not to look like a local
6. Keep your eyes open
7. Don't stare in case it causes problems
Tricky to achieve all of those, but I guess we succeeded as I got to the hotel without being murdered.
I checked in, went to my room, and went to sleep for a few hours. Bliss.
The evening and night, and some of the next day, saw the most amazing thunderstorms. There is something wonderful about watching a storm in full force. I could only do it from my hotel room, as I was warned not to wander the streets. Mind you, the sign in the hotel room didn't exactly reassure me, telling me to double lock the door at all times, and if someone knocks on the door don't answer, and if you order room service, don't answer the door till you phone reception to check it's really them.
Usually on these sorts of trips I get an opportunity to see some of the local places and get a feel for the place. Sadly by this point most of my feels for the place were bound around even the locals telling me how scary and dangerous it is. As the week went on this was a common theme, with tellings of smash-and-grabs in cars, people being herded into rooms at the swimming pool so they could be robbed, and people getting carjacked etc. It doesn't exactly warm you to the place.
The guys on the training course were great, and I really enjoyed teaching them. In the process I learnt a Afrikaans word - they asked if I fancied working here and becoming a 'soutpiel'. They found the term hillarious, and eventually told me it means "Salt Dick". The origin being that the English that work here typically have one foot in South Africa and one foot in England, with their penis dangling in the ocean. An interesting term and rather amusing.
During meals out, chats, etc, everyone told me how much progress the country is making, how great democracy is becoming, and whilst I was here legislation was passed to make gay marriage legal. Not one person I spoke to has said they liked the days of apartheid and everyone said they believed in equality. Yet... Maybe it's being here and knowing it happened, and so you are ultrasensitive to things going on, but there was always the feeling of low level racism still existing and being normal. People split themselves into groups by race, little comments people made in passing, and how differently a white person serving someone would be treated than if it was a black person. Nothing outrageously obvious, but noticable. The odd comment would slip out, and the odd reaction, that betrayed something underneath that just made me feel uncomfortable.
The country has come a long long way in just a few years, but I really do doubt I could ever be a soutpiel. |
|
Last Updated ( Thursday, 13 September 2007 )
|
|
