10 August 2011: It was an ordinary day at University, I was checking my e-mail at Aberdale labs. I received a forward form the office for international education about the international cultural week, it read:
“Dear International students
In response to a request from Prof Swartz, the Vice Chancellor of the NMMU, for a strategy to address organizational culture, the Centre for Advancement of Non-Racialism and Democracy (CANRAD), in conjunction with the Office for International Education, the Transformation Office (Monitoring and Evaluation), Alumni Trust, HR Equity, Art & Design, Language and Literature, Social Development, Foundation Studies, Faculty of Education, Arts & Culture, Law Faculty, the Sports Bureau, Student Governance & Development, and Marketing & Corporate Relations will host Diversity Month during the whole of August, in which International Diversity Week will take place from 15-19 August 2011….”
We had events like this at my high school Waterford Kamhlaba, I never lifted a finger. My peers would set up stalls with treats from their countries and I would just walk around and feed off them. Fast forward to today, I’ve become a much more hands on person, who finds satisfaction in showcasing the arts. The international cultural exhibition would be on the 19th. Mozambique has so many milestones our neighbours don’t even know about. We grow and export Cashew nuts, in Africa only Kenya and Tanzania have the tropical temperatures to grow them. In 2011 we were the third largest exporters of Cashew Nuts behind Brazil and India. We have Cahora Bassa, the fourth largest artificial lake in the world. Built there is the Cahora Bassa dam, the largest hydroelectric scheme in Southern Africa. It was built in 1969 during the Portuguese colonial government, it is now proudly ours as we bought most of the shares from Portugual in 2007. We inaugurated our first multi-use stadium up to international on 23 April 2011, which we will use as the main stadium for the 2011 All-Africa Games. These will be the 10th annual games, and the first hosted in Mozambique. Our beaches are unparalleled, 2000km stretch of paradise, it is the reason we are called the pearl of the Indian Ocean. It played in my mind, I could see myself, the flag, the stall, the treats, photos of our milestones, the socio-cultural exchange, it would be great for, my own self development, self-fulfilment, my curriculum and it would be legendary. I called my parents and asked for their help with some contacts.
11 August 2011: The minister of tourism provided my dad with the number of the CEO of the National Institute of tourism. My dad relayed the number to me, and under it the words “Go for it! Grab the beast by it’s tail”. The man’s name was Tomas Psico (PhD in Management). I contacted him and politely asked to call back explaining my lack of airtime, given I’m a student. He called back, asking about the state of my health first, “Primeiro de saude esta tudo bom?”. I replied positively, he was pleased and then we got to the chase. I talked about the event, he thought it would be a great way to share our country, the only one we have as he put it, with other nations. He told me his secretary would call on Friday morning. I thanked him, the man said “Nao, obrigado digo eu por pores Moçambique no mapa” (No, I thank you for putting Mozambique on the map). I gave feedback to my dad, he replied by text,
“Well done Edgar! You are building yours and everybody’s FUTURE.
Keep going!
S.Munguambe”
12 August: At NMMU, I went to the office for international Education. Janine Wagenaar the event co-ordinator was pleased about my intentions to participate, saying that it would be the first time Mozambique participated in the International Cultural exhibition.
I signed up, I had a peek at the other countries on her file and there were they had a lot more than one name signed up. I knew we were at least two on South campus, but I was not in touch with the other Mozambican and let me tell you why. Last semester, when I was new I saw this girl once at the office for international education. We were in line to pay our tuition fees, she was in front of the line, seeing that she held a Mozambican passport, once she had been helped I greeted her as a fellow compatriot, “Ola minha compatriota”.
All she said was, “oi tudo bom?’’ (hi, how r you?) and left. Naturally if you meet a fellow compatriot in a foreign country you are welcoming towards the person. Compatriots are birds of a feather, but given the indifference I thought that one had broken wings. I saw that girl again randomly, said hello and she ignored me. Whether she didn’t recognize me or just didn’t feel like talking to me is unknown to me. I too ignored her next time we crossed paths. Then I never saw her again. This brings me to the 17th at Janine’s office. I told her I knew there was at least one other Mozambican and asked her to find her and other Mozambicans so that I could get in touch with them for the sake of the exhibition.. Janine was glad to help. Before I left she gave me an envelope with R300 advance, the expenses I had to return in slips; and a list of all the equipment they’d provide us:
1 Trestle Table
1 Black Table cloth
2 Chairs
1 Felt Divider/Back screen
1 Flag on the screen of your country
1 Signage strip of your country name
1 Chafing dish
2 Spririt Jellies to keep food warm in the chafing dish
1 Serving spoon
1 pack containing the following:
- Toothpicks
- Serviettes
-Plastic cups
- Plastic teaspoons
Sweet, I was on my way. Dr Psico’s assistant called me, I explained everything, reiterated the fact hat we’d never been represented at NMMU. She asked how the transportation costs would be met. I thought it was cheapish of the national institute of tourism not to offer to cover these costs, after all it was for the good of the country. My options were, (i) give the materials to a trusted regular light traveller, so that he can give to my uncle in Johannesburg and trust him to courier it to Port Elizabeth or (ii) Contact another uncle, a big cat at LAM - Mozambican Airlines and trust him with the full transportation of the equipment or (iii) DHL the materials from Maputo to P.E. After talks with my parents, we agreed to go with option (ii) uncle Felix Salty.
13 and 14 August 2011: This was a very odd weekend, I’ll get to that in a different blog entry
15 August 2011: Monday I had lunch with Jes, my friend and fellow Media student. I told her of the cultural exhibition. She was thrilled at the idea and offered to help. I had to think it through I told her I’d get back to her later. I was still waiting for the other Mozambicans to pull through. In other news, Uncle Salty agreed to dispatch the suitcase with all the materials, the show was on the road!
16 August 2011: The case was on its way to Jo’burg, and due in P.E in the evening. I got an e-mail from Jenine with contacts of 3 Mozambicans, 3! It is bewildering how I’d been in Port Elizabeth for 7 months and hadn’t yet been in touch with these people. I sent them the most patriotic e-mail, calling them comrades and compatriots, I even signed off with a “Viva Moçambique!”. The show was on the road! However, the show was in for a 180 when it came over its first pothole. I got a mail delivery error from the server. I tried again, proofreading the names of the recipients. It would not go through. I remained cool, Jenine had also given me a phone number. I called it and the man who picked up was distinctly Xhosa and made sure he emphasised it, “I am 100% South African!”. He added that I wasn’t the first one that called him looking for a Mozambican. Not quite knowing what to say I said, “If you see a Mozambican let me know”. The day came and went, the suitcase did not arrive.
17 August 2011: My dad caught wind of a man called Isaias Muhate who made a presentation on Investments and Business in Mozambique in the field if transportation. He left the equipment at the South African High Commission in Pretoria. Dr Sululo was the number two at the Mozambican high commission in Pretoria. My dad gave me his number to contact him for additional equipment and pointers. I gave my dad a few nonchalant “yeses” and “um umh’s” over the phone. In the end I didn’t bother to call Dr Sululo.
I was thinking about the food for the stall. At home we savour Mboa, it is a cooked mashed up pumpkin leaves with tomato and coconut white. But making it in SA would be difficult, for starters I’d never seen pumpkin leaves in South Africa. The Cubata was a Portuguese restaurant I’d heard of by the North End stadium. I called the manager explaining asking if he made any traditional Mozambican dishes given our countries’ special relationship. All he had were prawns from Mozambique. I explained him my intentions and said I wanted to order the prawn speciality for roughly 80 people to sample. He just told me to show up so we could talk face to face. I agreed, in terms of food that was the plan, to be executed on Thursday straight after Media Ethics, my last lecture.
I got a call from SAA, the man on the other end told me the bag would arrive in P.E. with the 18:20h flight SA 145. He gave me a tag number. That was during my African film viewing, the viewing was not compulsive but critical to the model. You can’t make an omelette without breaking some eggs! So I bunked the viewing and hopped on a cap to the airport, I got there at 18:30. The passengers had already arrived and the carousel was clear. I spoke to a gay Indian man at baggage claims. He had two unclaimed bags by his counter, none of them had my name. He checked his computer for my name, all he got were closed flights from the holidays in June/July. There with my name. He called his counterparts in Johannesburg attempting to track the bag, his hands moved in a very flamboyant lady like fashion as he talked. I'd seen parodies of gay Indians by Russell Peters on TV, but reality was I’d never seen a gay Indian up close until this day. Anyways, there was still nothing. He sighed, I don’t know if it was because he was attracted to me or because the trail was going cold, “what does it look like?”, he said with a smile.
-“I’ve never seen the bag, it came through on SA 145 this evening for me”
-“The bag came unaccompanied?”
-“Yes, it has materials sent to me”
-“Oh, then this is the wrong place. You should go to cargo”
-“Where is that?”
-“Make a right from Avis, then left, you’ll see a warehouse at the end. You have to sign to go in”
-“Alright, thanks”
So off I was to Cargo. Pang, the taxi driver had this to say, “These people always f*** with you, they make you chasing your own tail”. The guards there at Cargo were idling away so Pang just drove through. There I spoke to a lady, as usual in these places I established that I am Mozambican, to cut them from starting a Xhosa monologue. She couldn’t find the tag number, said it wasn’t one of their flights. She wanted a tracking number, I wasn’t given one. I redialled the number that had called me earlier, it just rang and rang. She spoke to her colleague, who spoke to another colleague, who spoke to another colleague but not before cracking a loud joke. Nothing checked out or rather checked in my favour. Pang was getting impatient, he left the cap, “how much longer are you going to take?”
-“they can’t track it”, I said
-“Sisi what’s do you need to find the bag?”
-“I need a tracking number”, she said
-“well I don’t have one”, I repeated
Pang just stormed to the two Afrikaans speaking people (of the two lighter demographic shades of South Africa) on the other side. They Afrikaansed it out and then the man turns to me, asking the same questions the sisi asked, only faster. I was in a puddle, I reached my phone and dialled uncle Salty in Mozambique. No answer. I started darting my eyes plan-less. More of the same questions were asked in the next 5 minutes then I got a returned call.
-“Alo”
-“Uncle Salty, it’s Edgar.
-“Sorry Edgar I was in a business meeting, what’s the situation?”
-“I’m at the airport and these people can’t find the bag. I got a call giving me a tag number that doesn’t check out, what could be the problem?”
-“It should have arrived, I’ll find out immediately, then I’ll get back at you”
Further waiting, at this point Pang was pacing on the phone, he seemed to be swearing, but then again every word of Afrikaans sounds like a swear word. The Afrikaans man called me into the warehouse to check if any of the bags were there. The warehouse was largely empty, except for a few crates, boxes and cases. None of the cases had my name.
-“This is what you should do. Go to the first building outside to your left, speak to the man, he unloaded all the bags, he can probably help you”. He spoke to Pang outside in Afrikaans, by the body language giving the same instruction, a call came through from Mozambique, uncle Salty.
-“Edgar my colleague said the bag’s still in Jo’burg, it’s only coming through tomorrow. But you don’t have to go get it, it will come to you.”
-“OK, I’ll wait for it. Is there a contact I can save to track the delivery?”
-“I’ll send you a business card with the dispatcher’s number”
-“Ok, thanks for the feedback”
-“Take care”
I got in the cab and broke the news to Pang, “I just got the most f***ed up call, the bag’s still in Joburg, it’s only coming tomorrow”. He replied, “Welcome to the new South Africa my friend”.
We went back to Summerstrand, along the way he retorted, “Here they’ll give you the job if you’re black and you’re stupid, it doesn’t matter of the white, coloured or Indian guy is better qualified for the job”
-“If you’re stupid period you should stay at home”, I responded
Funny enough I never mentioned the race of any of the dispatchers. He charged me R120 for the wild goose chase. The heat was definately on
To be continued...
Showing posts with label Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University. Show all posts
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
First impressions: student life at NMMU
After three years studying at UNISA through distance learning I felt it was time to go back to school for the experience. Distance learning is also a long process that requires dedication, you can consider yourself a wiz if you can complete a three year bachelors degree in six years. At the rate I was going I estimated total of 8 years for me to complete my degree, that would take me way into my thirties. Honestly I was a bit paranoid about the decision to return to a contact university, due to my last disastrous experience. At the University of Sussex in Brighton, UK, I’d just had sinus surgery, badly operated by a quack South African doctor called Jeff Feinstein (yes I named him and do not recommend him!). Once the British winter kicked in, breathing literally hurt. I couldn’t endure, I went into depression. I went back to Mozambique a wreck for Christmas, its tropical weather made breathing easier. I temporarily withdrew from university, but full recovery was a pipe dream, I was forced to cancel my studies, my world had crumbled. Four years later after much stalling I had corrective surgery done by the finest doctor in Southern Africa, Dr Keith Davidge-Pitts. So now, feeling better, I decided it was finally time to hop back on the bandwagon.
So why South Africa? I’ll only be an Easter, long weekend, mid-semester or semester break away from home, it is a neighbouring country, that has the best universities in the continent.
Why the Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University? I chose the Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University (NMMU) because it is the most multi-cultural university in South Africa. 10-15% of the student body is international. Coming from Waterford Kamlhaba, a united world college with over 50 countries, NMMU seems like a good follow-up. These were my first impressions of student life:
I arrived in Port Elizabeth on the 18th of January 2011, with the objective to complete my BA in Media, communication and culture. PE is windy and chilly at times, at first I thought my sinus problems would return, they didn’t, in fact I breathe better. At home I’d sometimes sleep with a humidifier to filter the air, in PE I don’t need to, the air is so pure and the university is only 1 km from the sea, so I have clean air in my lungs all the time. Incidentally PE is beautiful, in South Africa I’d say the second to Cape Town. NMMU is beautiful too, the first thing I noticed about the campus is how green it is; the office for international education is in a plaza, with a long fountain pool. It is by far the best looking campus I’ve ever seen, I’ve seen campuses in Maputo (none of them are great), I’ve seen the University of Zambia, the London School of Hygiene and tropical medicine, the University of East Anglia, the University of Sussex, Wits University and the University of Cape Town. None of these campuses would ever win a beauty pageant running against NMMU!
The faculty at the university seemed good, during orientation I learnt that in the final year we get a chance to do an internship at a top media organisation such as Mnet or FHM, quite interesting.
About transportation in PE, the so called taxis, which are actually chapas (combis) charge R6 trip, that’s already at least R12 per day just by going to University and back, which is 1.5 km distance. So I decided to buy a bicycle, a good 1st hand bicycle for R1230 from a shop that provides assistance.
-“That’s too expensive”, said a fresher from Zimbabwe.
-“Actually in the long-run it will save me money”, I stated.
A “taxi” would suck me at least R1260 per semester, that’s R5040 in the four semesters that I’ll be studying. R1230, that’s already less than I’d spend on a taxi in a semester and I’d be exercising. Naturally, there are maintenance costs, like when I punctured my back wheel, I thought I could take it back to the shop for a fix-up but they don’t do such petty repairs, I had to buy a cycle repair kit for R15.20. Repairing a punctured wheel is simple, you remove the tube, place it in a bucket full of water and squeeze it until you see bubbles and that’s where the hole is. Use a scrapper to roughen the surface, apply glue to the area and apply a patch when the glue is almost dry. That’s it, I learnt something new and it’s easy peezy diy.
Living on your own means doing chores, like washing dishes, the few times I ever washed my own dishes, I did so wrong. Washing dishes close to the tap is a no-no because it always spills water onto the adjacent surfaces, which means more cleaning and more time wasted. Dishes should be washed close the base of the sink to avoid all of that. The same goes for cooking, if you’re pouring stuff, pour it close to the recipient to avoid spillage. Incidentally, a lot of undergraduate students would rather live off fast food and sandwiches than on a wholesome diet. Many don’t bother to buy neither fruit nor cooking equipment. I think cooking is one of the most relaxing activities, period. It is not the 7 headed monster that these undergrads fear, all you have to do is read cooking recipes, they even come at the back of everyday ingredients like stock cubes and rice bags, I only noticed this when I began managing my own apartment.
The garbage. I placed my garbage bin outside the house in the morning. When I returned in the afternoon it had been chucked back over the fence. I must have pressed the garbage man’s wrong buttons. I told this to the landlord, who laughed and said, “You have to place the bags outside”.
-“Black bin bags right?”
-“Yes”
Why black bin bags? I had left the bin itself outside filled with garbage in Spar plastic bags, these are no good because they are neither made from recycled material nor municipal size, it’s insulting to expect garbage men to collect pint sized commercial bags from your bin.
One thing I’ve always hated doing is the laundry. When I studied at Waterford Kamhlaba in Swaziland I’d accumulate a knapsack with dirty clothes and give it to the first Maputonian that went home for the weekend, he’d hand it to my mother who’d have the maid wash it and have it ready to give back to him when he returned to school on Sunday. At Sussex, we all had to wash our own laundry, which I found daunting. It’s a laborious process of separating colours, putting it in a washing machine, waiting, taking the clothes out, hanging them, getting dishpan hands in the process and ironing, what a drag! NMMU has a laundrette with ladies to wash and dry your clothes, they’re fast, efficient but they don’t do it for the love of students, 3kgs is R35 and they have a pricing for ironing depending on the item. It cost me R71 to have 3kgs cleaned. To save money I bought an iron and an ironing board because although I hate washing, ironing is not as bad and I’d be straightening small loads at a time.
The taxi (real taxi) driver told me Port Elizabethan girls were hot and willing. I’m not yet sure of the latter but he got the former twisted, these chicks are not all that...at all. I come from Mozambique, a country notorious for having hot women, I don’t recall ever cruising the streets or walking in a restaurant, mall or park without seeing some amazing looking women, natural beauties, even those with no class are ghetto fabulous. In PE it’s a whole different story, the white women generally speaking are not exotic, they have no palpable attributes if you get my drift. Most black girls on the other hand are fat with HUGE asses, you might think that is what black men desire, we find an ass like Nicki Minaj’s amazing because it is round and firm, these girls on the contrary have bigger and flabbier assets and a disproportionate body to go with it. Take college chicks, on campus there is a gym, a swimming pool and an array of sports to play, but that doesn’t seem to register with them. Perhaps it’s their diet, I’ve asked the waiters at two cafes on North and South Campus for fish or seafood, both shook their heads saying, “We don’t have seafood”.
There isn’t a shred of fish on any menu on campus, whether it’s a cafe, a diner, a fast food joint or a buffet. The cafe on South campus has fancy dishes such as pork stir fries and beef wraps but can’t deliver seafood. Even the Chinese restaurant in town, though it has seafood, it does not have fish! How can this be? Port Elizabeth is known exactly for having...a port, yet you have to go treasure hunting for fish!? No wonder these chicks are unattractive!! On my first week here, I’d go for a number 2 twice a day from all that meat, it’s nhama nhama nhama and more nhama! My alternative was to buy fish at Spar and cook more often that I’d expected at first. Anyways, the other colours in the rainbow are generally speaking better looking, but seem to be living in their own segregated world, but I won’t put everybody in a box just like that, in time I’ll see who’s real and who isn’t.
At any given point walking around campus and I hear at least three languages, Xhosa, Afrikaans and English. I thought it’d be English the whole way because the system is in English, though that’s not how things roll in the rainbow nation, here the blacks here speak Xhosa, the whites speak English or Afrikaans and the coloureds speak Afrikaans. The kats here think that if you’re black you speak their language, WTF? Wherever I go, someone approaches me in Xhosa like, “Unjani buthi, click click click....” and I always say, “I’m not from South Africa”.
This lady at the faculty office started clicking at me and once again I said, “I’m not from South Africa”, by then I was already on autopilot.
She then asks, “Why?”
In my mind I did a double take, what kind of a question was that?!?
-“Why?? Because I’m form Mozambique”, I responded perplexed
-“I’m just joking!”
I didn’t find that funny, the whole Xhosa thing was getting to me. One day I wore my International student T-shirt and my international student bag. I walked down the corridor only to hear a, “Shap ekse, u click click kanjani click click”
-“Woa brother, I’m not from South Africa”, I said (again!) this time pointing at my shirt and my bag
-“Ohhh alriiiit, so you’ve neva lived here?”
Naturally, otherwise I would have understood you.
-“No”
He asked for directions and I helped him get to his venue. This predicament is not only limiting for me but to this whole country, how are they going to become one unified nation if there are several different cultures? People are never going to see eye to eye. South African comedian Trevor Noah jokes about this in his special “The Daywalker”, how even in Joburg, his city, people ask him if he’s from Cape Town, and worse in Cape Town the coloured people think he’s from there and speak to him in Afrikaans! The man is half Xhosa, half Swedish and has nothing to do with being coloured culturally yet he was accused of being a ‘banana type’, yellow on the outside and white on the inside!
In my city people talk to you in Portuguese regardless or you being black, white, grey or green because that is the official language. How can you end segregation if people automatically put you in a box because of the way you look? I’m not going to click with these people, take a social environment, a bar for instance, you don’t know people, but you can easily join in on conversations or chip in on something you overheard, that is not possible if you don’t understand the language and already there is a hindrance in socialization.
Security. I’m living in a studio apartment, on the same grounds as a house. The walls have barbed wire, the gate has spikes and two locks, my unit has another lock for a barred door and a key to a second door, talk about security, it takes me 5 minutes just to enter the house. The whole neighbourhood seems to be like that. The taxi driver said, “People here are so f***ing paranoid, that even the people in asylums have more common sense than them!”
Are they? I went for a swim in the aquatics centre at NMMU and left my sports bag on a chair by the side, just like I do in Maputo. I then took a shower and placed the bag in the changing rooms unattended. When I got home I couldn’t find my wallet, and I distinctly remember putting it in my bag. There were people circulating the swimming pool and the changing rooms but it never crossed my mind that one of them would steal from me. I should have used the lockers, next time I’ll know. Gone is my ID, some money and my debit card. I was forced to cancel my card, fortunately I didn’t need money immediately, I had sufficient food for some days until a new card was issued. This is South Africa, the crime rate is high, in terms of security it has nothin’ on my country.
In hindsight, I’ve had and interesting experience so far. This is a learning experience, I’m finding out a lot about myself and a lot about life, I consider every situation either a win-lose or a win-win, these are lessons that I will take with me for the rest of my life. This journey is going to be educational, I’m constantly learning and that’s the beauty of it.
Edgar Munguambe 290111
So why South Africa? I’ll only be an Easter, long weekend, mid-semester or semester break away from home, it is a neighbouring country, that has the best universities in the continent.
Why the Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University? I chose the Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University (NMMU) because it is the most multi-cultural university in South Africa. 10-15% of the student body is international. Coming from Waterford Kamlhaba, a united world college with over 50 countries, NMMU seems like a good follow-up. These were my first impressions of student life:
I arrived in Port Elizabeth on the 18th of January 2011, with the objective to complete my BA in Media, communication and culture. PE is windy and chilly at times, at first I thought my sinus problems would return, they didn’t, in fact I breathe better. At home I’d sometimes sleep with a humidifier to filter the air, in PE I don’t need to, the air is so pure and the university is only 1 km from the sea, so I have clean air in my lungs all the time. Incidentally PE is beautiful, in South Africa I’d say the second to Cape Town. NMMU is beautiful too, the first thing I noticed about the campus is how green it is; the office for international education is in a plaza, with a long fountain pool. It is by far the best looking campus I’ve ever seen, I’ve seen campuses in Maputo (none of them are great), I’ve seen the University of Zambia, the London School of Hygiene and tropical medicine, the University of East Anglia, the University of Sussex, Wits University and the University of Cape Town. None of these campuses would ever win a beauty pageant running against NMMU!
The faculty at the university seemed good, during orientation I learnt that in the final year we get a chance to do an internship at a top media organisation such as Mnet or FHM, quite interesting.
About transportation in PE, the so called taxis, which are actually chapas (combis) charge R6 trip, that’s already at least R12 per day just by going to University and back, which is 1.5 km distance. So I decided to buy a bicycle, a good 1st hand bicycle for R1230 from a shop that provides assistance.
-“That’s too expensive”, said a fresher from Zimbabwe.
-“Actually in the long-run it will save me money”, I stated.
A “taxi” would suck me at least R1260 per semester, that’s R5040 in the four semesters that I’ll be studying. R1230, that’s already less than I’d spend on a taxi in a semester and I’d be exercising. Naturally, there are maintenance costs, like when I punctured my back wheel, I thought I could take it back to the shop for a fix-up but they don’t do such petty repairs, I had to buy a cycle repair kit for R15.20. Repairing a punctured wheel is simple, you remove the tube, place it in a bucket full of water and squeeze it until you see bubbles and that’s where the hole is. Use a scrapper to roughen the surface, apply glue to the area and apply a patch when the glue is almost dry. That’s it, I learnt something new and it’s easy peezy diy.
Living on your own means doing chores, like washing dishes, the few times I ever washed my own dishes, I did so wrong. Washing dishes close to the tap is a no-no because it always spills water onto the adjacent surfaces, which means more cleaning and more time wasted. Dishes should be washed close the base of the sink to avoid all of that. The same goes for cooking, if you’re pouring stuff, pour it close to the recipient to avoid spillage. Incidentally, a lot of undergraduate students would rather live off fast food and sandwiches than on a wholesome diet. Many don’t bother to buy neither fruit nor cooking equipment. I think cooking is one of the most relaxing activities, period. It is not the 7 headed monster that these undergrads fear, all you have to do is read cooking recipes, they even come at the back of everyday ingredients like stock cubes and rice bags, I only noticed this when I began managing my own apartment.
The garbage. I placed my garbage bin outside the house in the morning. When I returned in the afternoon it had been chucked back over the fence. I must have pressed the garbage man’s wrong buttons. I told this to the landlord, who laughed and said, “You have to place the bags outside”.
-“Black bin bags right?”
-“Yes”
Why black bin bags? I had left the bin itself outside filled with garbage in Spar plastic bags, these are no good because they are neither made from recycled material nor municipal size, it’s insulting to expect garbage men to collect pint sized commercial bags from your bin.
One thing I’ve always hated doing is the laundry. When I studied at Waterford Kamhlaba in Swaziland I’d accumulate a knapsack with dirty clothes and give it to the first Maputonian that went home for the weekend, he’d hand it to my mother who’d have the maid wash it and have it ready to give back to him when he returned to school on Sunday. At Sussex, we all had to wash our own laundry, which I found daunting. It’s a laborious process of separating colours, putting it in a washing machine, waiting, taking the clothes out, hanging them, getting dishpan hands in the process and ironing, what a drag! NMMU has a laundrette with ladies to wash and dry your clothes, they’re fast, efficient but they don’t do it for the love of students, 3kgs is R35 and they have a pricing for ironing depending on the item. It cost me R71 to have 3kgs cleaned. To save money I bought an iron and an ironing board because although I hate washing, ironing is not as bad and I’d be straightening small loads at a time.
The taxi (real taxi) driver told me Port Elizabethan girls were hot and willing. I’m not yet sure of the latter but he got the former twisted, these chicks are not all that...at all. I come from Mozambique, a country notorious for having hot women, I don’t recall ever cruising the streets or walking in a restaurant, mall or park without seeing some amazing looking women, natural beauties, even those with no class are ghetto fabulous. In PE it’s a whole different story, the white women generally speaking are not exotic, they have no palpable attributes if you get my drift. Most black girls on the other hand are fat with HUGE asses, you might think that is what black men desire, we find an ass like Nicki Minaj’s amazing because it is round and firm, these girls on the contrary have bigger and flabbier assets and a disproportionate body to go with it. Take college chicks, on campus there is a gym, a swimming pool and an array of sports to play, but that doesn’t seem to register with them. Perhaps it’s their diet, I’ve asked the waiters at two cafes on North and South Campus for fish or seafood, both shook their heads saying, “We don’t have seafood”.
There isn’t a shred of fish on any menu on campus, whether it’s a cafe, a diner, a fast food joint or a buffet. The cafe on South campus has fancy dishes such as pork stir fries and beef wraps but can’t deliver seafood. Even the Chinese restaurant in town, though it has seafood, it does not have fish! How can this be? Port Elizabeth is known exactly for having...a port, yet you have to go treasure hunting for fish!? No wonder these chicks are unattractive!! On my first week here, I’d go for a number 2 twice a day from all that meat, it’s nhama nhama nhama and more nhama! My alternative was to buy fish at Spar and cook more often that I’d expected at first. Anyways, the other colours in the rainbow are generally speaking better looking, but seem to be living in their own segregated world, but I won’t put everybody in a box just like that, in time I’ll see who’s real and who isn’t.
At any given point walking around campus and I hear at least three languages, Xhosa, Afrikaans and English. I thought it’d be English the whole way because the system is in English, though that’s not how things roll in the rainbow nation, here the blacks here speak Xhosa, the whites speak English or Afrikaans and the coloureds speak Afrikaans. The kats here think that if you’re black you speak their language, WTF? Wherever I go, someone approaches me in Xhosa like, “Unjani buthi, click click click....” and I always say, “I’m not from South Africa”.
This lady at the faculty office started clicking at me and once again I said, “I’m not from South Africa”, by then I was already on autopilot.
She then asks, “Why?”
In my mind I did a double take, what kind of a question was that?!?
-“Why?? Because I’m form Mozambique”, I responded perplexed
-“I’m just joking!”
I didn’t find that funny, the whole Xhosa thing was getting to me. One day I wore my International student T-shirt and my international student bag. I walked down the corridor only to hear a, “Shap ekse, u click click kanjani click click”
-“Woa brother, I’m not from South Africa”, I said (again!) this time pointing at my shirt and my bag
-“Ohhh alriiiit, so you’ve neva lived here?”
Naturally, otherwise I would have understood you.
-“No”
He asked for directions and I helped him get to his venue. This predicament is not only limiting for me but to this whole country, how are they going to become one unified nation if there are several different cultures? People are never going to see eye to eye. South African comedian Trevor Noah jokes about this in his special “The Daywalker”, how even in Joburg, his city, people ask him if he’s from Cape Town, and worse in Cape Town the coloured people think he’s from there and speak to him in Afrikaans! The man is half Xhosa, half Swedish and has nothing to do with being coloured culturally yet he was accused of being a ‘banana type’, yellow on the outside and white on the inside!
In my city people talk to you in Portuguese regardless or you being black, white, grey or green because that is the official language. How can you end segregation if people automatically put you in a box because of the way you look? I’m not going to click with these people, take a social environment, a bar for instance, you don’t know people, but you can easily join in on conversations or chip in on something you overheard, that is not possible if you don’t understand the language and already there is a hindrance in socialization.
Security. I’m living in a studio apartment, on the same grounds as a house. The walls have barbed wire, the gate has spikes and two locks, my unit has another lock for a barred door and a key to a second door, talk about security, it takes me 5 minutes just to enter the house. The whole neighbourhood seems to be like that. The taxi driver said, “People here are so f***ing paranoid, that even the people in asylums have more common sense than them!”
Are they? I went for a swim in the aquatics centre at NMMU and left my sports bag on a chair by the side, just like I do in Maputo. I then took a shower and placed the bag in the changing rooms unattended. When I got home I couldn’t find my wallet, and I distinctly remember putting it in my bag. There were people circulating the swimming pool and the changing rooms but it never crossed my mind that one of them would steal from me. I should have used the lockers, next time I’ll know. Gone is my ID, some money and my debit card. I was forced to cancel my card, fortunately I didn’t need money immediately, I had sufficient food for some days until a new card was issued. This is South Africa, the crime rate is high, in terms of security it has nothin’ on my country.
In hindsight, I’ve had and interesting experience so far. This is a learning experience, I’m finding out a lot about myself and a lot about life, I consider every situation either a win-lose or a win-win, these are lessons that I will take with me for the rest of my life. This journey is going to be educational, I’m constantly learning and that’s the beauty of it.
Edgar Munguambe 290111
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