Translation? My arrival time is very uncertain as the roadworks contraflow system is (a) rather busy, (b) highly stressful, or (c) currently the scene of a drive-by shooting and a taxi drivers’ turf war complete with a burning tyre roadblock.
From which you learn that in spite of having been here for 16 months, I still haven’t quite grasped the correct contextual usage of the word “hectic”. In the UK, I can confidently use the word in sentences like, “I am so sorry I haven’t been in touch; things have been a little hectic.” Over here, “hectic” seems to have a slightly more fluid meaning, which has connotations of stress and possible life-threatening danger. But I have also heard it used in slightly less dramatic circumstances. All of which mean that it is a word I try to avoid using for fear of seeming a little melodramatic.
As for the rest of this title, anyone who has either read previous blog posts or had anything to do with South Africans, knows that “just now” has a different, somewhat less time-bound meaning over here. And the stop-go? We do contraflows in roadworks in a different way here. None of this waiting for two minutes with your engine running and your fingers drumming on the wheel before negotiating your way through a 1/2 mile stretch of roadworks. Oh no… in rural areas here, we think nothing of having a 15 or 20km stretch of contraflow, with a 15-20 minute waiting time. And even here in the almost legendary South Peninsula Main Road roadworks (currently heading for their 5th birthday celebrations…I’m thinking of baking a cake), although the distance currently being 
churned up is only a few hundred metres, we still hold to the principle of the long wait. Which is fine. You turn off your engine, get out your book or pick up your phone and catch up on your social networking. Timing is everything, but totally out of your control. Firstly, there is the timing that allows you to join the queue at the right point so that you only have one 20 minute waiting spell, rather than a 20 minute wait, followed by a bit of driving, followed by a 20 minute wait again. Secondly, there is the timing that allows you a waiting spot with a good view. Hairdressers and Indian restaurant.. not bad. False Bay with the mountains beyond, and maybe even the occasional whale in season… much better. Portaloos…oh dear, but at least you are fairly near the front of the queue.
Those of us who live in the right places and know the right back street routes, manage to bypass a bit of the queues, because once the line along Main Road starts moving, drivers around here are incredibly kind to those coming in from the side streets and allow us to filter in on a one from each direction basis. In the UK, you would be dependent on looking pathetic and trying to make eye contact with someone in the main queue. Here, it is regarded as an unwritten rule that this is what must happen.
I’ll leave you with another example of South Africans using words in a different way. The word “shame” here is an all-encompassing pantheon of sympathy and empathy, covering birth, death and everything in between. It has absolutely no connotations of guilt or implied blame. Recently, I was messaging an American friend and asked how the family were. He said that his wife and teenage daughters were sleeping in after a late night packing suitcases. I replied “Shame”. Then hastily realised that this might be seen to imply disapproval of their late rising. Cue a swiftly typed explanation and apology. Thankfully he has a great sense of humour and plenty of cross-cultural experience, so he was amused rather than offended. So, if you ever hang out with South Africans and they say “shame” in response to anything you say, revel in their compassion and sympathy. And remember… it is the correct reply to anyone who tells you that they are stuck in hectic traffic in the stop-go.
African Crossroad 