Sea, sand and… chocolate ice cream

After nearly a year, people are starting to ask that dreaded question “so, how does it feel now you’ve been there nearly a year?”  If you’re reading this, please note the use of the word “dreaded” and don’t ask the question!  The truthful answer is that I’m not anywhere near where I had hoped I might be after a year.  We’ve had a few health issues, an unexpected house move, a few more health issues (concussion anyone?) and still a certain absence of that key document I really should have.  I hadn’t realised how much a move like this can dent your confidence as you find yourself back at square one in terms of friendships, spheres of service, and having to work out who you are, why you are here and what actually are the gifts that you have been given.  I’ve learnt that I still have a long long way to go in terms of many things, one of which is knowing how to say ‘no’.  There are all sorts of motivational quotes around about how saying ‘no’ to things frees you up to say ‘yes’ to the right things.  That’s all very well when you know what the right things are!

Anyway, one of the things that I have said ‘yes’ and which I do enjoy is spending some time on a Thursday afternoon at iThemba preschool, run by our church, St Peter’s.  The children from iThemba all live in disadvantaged areas and spend the day at the school learning English, developing social, educational and life skills, and having a lot of fun.  One of the aims is that, because they have had an English language preschool education, they will be able to take up places at some of the better equipped local primary schools.  I spend time each week reading stories with five of the children.  There is nothing quite like arriving at iThemba on a Thursday afternoon to make me feel loved.  There are hugs and cries of “Teacher” from many of them, pleas to “please read with me, Teacher” and smiles to warm the coldest of hearts.   I read with a group of three and then a group of two – always the same children each week.  Usually we have to chase out one or two others who hope to sneak an extra story.

Even more fun than reading with them, is taking them to the beach!  A few weeks ago we spent the morning at the beach with the oldest group – 14 lively little characters all wearing lime green t-shirts.  The t-shirts are such a great idea.  There were two other preschool or creche groups visiting the beach on the same day, and it made it so much easier to instantly identify which were ours.  After a few weeks where these children had been forced to miss school because of rioting, it was good to take them out for some fun.

One of the little boys told me he had never been in the sea before and that he had been very scared, but still went in.  (A great opportunity to talk about how being brave is about being scared, but doing the scary thing anyway.)  Once he was in, it was hard getting him out!  It wasn’t the warmest of mornings, but a run down the beach helped warm them up after their splash in the sea, followed by a lot of fun on the playground and then… ice cream!  Nobody eats an ice cream quite as slowly as an iThemba child, so the green t-shirts had a lot of brown splodges.  Nothing that a soak in our bath and a trip through the washing machine couldn’t fix – the sight of 14 little lime green t-shirts swaying in the breeze on our washing line was very sweet.

Is children’s ministry my gift? No.  But it’s a fun way to spend an afternoon a week and it encourages the staff at the preschool, most of whom also live in the nearby township area.   And it’s a great excuse to break out the camera….

This young lady sure knows how to work for that camera!

Beaches are full of interesting things, like shells with things living in them… and we put those on our noses. Nope, no idea why.

This is the little guy who had never been in the sea before.  The first little while, this slightly puzzled look was his fixed expression.  Then, as you see, he got into the sea and well into the whole idea – including splashing his teacher.  And yes, the trousers half way down your bottom is a global fashion phenomenon….

My first reading group… he is smart, bright and has an amazing personality.  The girl on the top is warm, sweet and funny.  The other girl is a pretty feisty and sassy young lady.

Reading group two.  He’s a real character who has a very cheeky streak.  She has the poise of a supermodel and a serene beauty about her, along with a very sweet nature.

Neil’s cap made it to the beach too – a great English lesson opportunity as we talked about the difference between “lending” and “giving”.  Some people can roll their tongues and some of us can’t…

The good, the bad and the ugly…

I think that is the title of an old Western film, and there are parts of this beautiful country where it probably does feel like you are living in the lawless days of a cowboy film.  But it seemed to sum up the last few weeks quite nicely…

The good…

Spring in the Cape is stunningly beautiful.  Wild flowers grow in carpets of colour in places that for the rest of the year are dry and barren looking.  Even around here, the roadsides are full of colour with flowers that would be greenhouse specials back in the UK.  Arum lilies grow wild in damp areas and every journey brings new little patches of beauty to enjoy.

One of the “must do” things around here is to take a trip up the West Coast to see the wild flowers.  They appear each spring for only a couple of weeks and provide a vivid splash of colour in a normally dry area.  We took a little day trip up a few weeks ago.  One of the surprises of the day was just how many other people had made the trip. One of the main flower viewing areas is in a national park, where there was a 30 minute queue to get in through the gate.  Once we had paid our fees, we followed the other cars around, and around, and around until we finally arrived at the flower fields.  Along with a solid line of other vehicles.  Wardens were driving up and down shouting at the people ignoring the “Do Not Walk On the Flowers” signs which were almost as plentiful as the flowers themselves.  It was a lovely sight once you could see past the other people, but a reminder that sometimes there is nothing quite as destructive as people trying to enjoy nature!  A couple of photos..

     

The following weekend we went away for a couple of days with some friends to visit some friends of a friend in the UK who have started up a holiday let business at a place called Philliopskop Mountain Reserve.  We stayed in the middle of the fynbos surrounded by beautiful wild flowers and plants, and took a day trip to Hermanus, the home of whale watching.  At this time of the year, a number of different types of whales come right into the coast of the Cape.  In spite of a howling wind, we did manage to see a mother and baby swimming very slowly along right next to the coastal path, and some other whales breaching a little further out.  A beautiful sight, but don’t tell the Hermanus tourist board… we’ve had better whale sightings right here in Fish Hoek Bay.  About a month ago, we stood on the rocks for an hour or so watching a whale calving.  Sadly, we weren’t able to stay long enough to see a calf.  And just last week, my mum and I were able to make the most of the very long contraflow wait in the roadworks to sit and watch a couple of whales breaching about 100m off shore.  (Contraflow systems in roadworks operate very differently here to the UK:  1) Always manually operated, even when they are in place 24/7.  2) They can cover long, long distances.  Several miles.  3) They operate on long time slots.  You will usually see a sign warning you to expect 10-15 minutes delay.  By which they mean that they allow traffic to go in one direction for anything up to that period of time.  So, you switch off your engine, find your book, catch up on your emails, or, if you’re in our local roadworks, you look for whales.) Anyway, I have no decent photos of whales.  But I do have some photos of the fynbos flowers around Phillipskop…

       There are a lot more flower photos, but there’s a limit to what I can impose on you!

The bad…

We have had a very interesting mini-series of sermons at church recently, looking at what the Bible has to say about living in South Africa today.  People in the local community were asked to say what they felt were the best and worst things about living in South Africa.  Needless to say, crime, corruption and economic uncertainty were among the highest scoring negative answers.  One of the things that really struck me was learning about the Gini coefficient and how South Africa scores in that respect.  (This is the first time I have ever used the word “coefficient” in any piece of writing and it is definitely one of those words that makes you feel really smart!)  For those who don’t know what the Gini coefficient is (and that was me until a couple of weeks ago), it is used by some economists to measure income distribution within a country.  It works on the basis that if a country’s income were completely equally distributed, that country would have a coefficient of 0.  If all income in a country was earned by one individual, the coefficient would be 1.  (Some economists go from 0 to 100 instead.) Obviously, neither of those scenarios is really likely to happen, but it is an interesting measure of income inequality.  So, for example, the UK’s Gini score is 0.404, exceeding the EU average of 0.346 and even topping the US who score 0.4.  Clearly, the lower the score, the more evenly income is distributed around the population. In South Africa this is somewhere between 0.6 and 0.7, and according to World Bank estimates, in 2011 South Africa had the highest Gini coefficient on their records.  Which backs up the impression you have that in South Africa, the rich are richer and the poor are poorer than pretty much anywhere else in the world.  You only have to drive around Cape Town to see this: multi-million pound properties on a scale of luxury that it is hard to imagine, and also many many people living in homes made of a few bits of corrugated iron fastened together in the hope of keeping out the wind and the rain.  I’m no economist and nor would I suggest some kind of Marxist wealth redistribution, but somehow it just seems to be wrong that such opulent wealth exists alongside such grinding poverty.

..and the ugly

Alongside the poverty, and in some measure contributing to it, is the sheer scale of corruption in this country.  It is estimated that millions upon millions of rand have been filtered off through corruption.  Money that is desperately needed to provide adequate housing and better education, and also much needed to improve the quantity and quality of police, particularly in disadvantaged areas.  A few miles away from where we live, is an area called Masiphumelele (commonly known as “Masi”).  The infrastructure there was built for around 10,000 people.  It is estimated that around 35,000 people live there, many in makeshift houses, others sleeping entire families in one small room.  Nearby is another area called Ocean View, with a population of nearly 14,000.  (I don’t think you can see the ocean from there….).

These two areas, with high unemployment, high levels of drug and alcohol addiction and significant issues with gangs, share a police station which has been staffed by a maximum of 6 officers on any one shift.  Often fewer than that.  With only two vehicles.   Officers based there lack the confidence and the equipment needed.

Needless to say, crime in Masi is a huge issue and for several months, people living there have been peacefully protesting but with little effect.  More police officers were promised, but were to be new recruits, not the experienced officers needed.  A couple of weeks ago, the community of Masi reached tipping point when a 14 year old boy was raped and murdered in his own home.  Tired of inadequate policing, local people decided to initiate community justice.

African community justice is swift and lethal.  That same night, one man was executed by people from that community and another taken to hospital with serious injuries.  Community justice, as with state justice, is also fallible.  There is some doubt as to whether the dead man had played any part in any crime at all.  A few days later, another man was burnt to death in a necklacing execution by community justice, and several people were arrested for vigilantism.   Yesterday, those arrested were due to appear in court, and this brought about more unrest in the community.

There is only one road in and out of Masi and yesterday morning, this was blocked, as was the main road nearby, by burning tyres and stone-throwing protesters, insisting that those arrested be released on bail.  Protesters refused to allow anyone to leave Masi to go to work or school.  The police were able to re-open the main road, but Masi itself remained firmly under the rule of protesters.  Rubber bullets and tear gas were fired.  Frightened parents locked themselves and their children inside, eyes streaming from the tear gas.  Some people with medical emergencies were allowed by the protesters to leave, but the threat was clearly made – anyone leaving to go to work would be killed.    Those people from Masi who had worked night shifts as security guards, petrol pump attendants, carers, found themselves having to work a double shift as their day time counterparts were unable to get to work, and they themselves were fearful to return home.   And underlying this all, an additional fear for the many non-South Africans living in Masi – Zimbabweans, Malawians, Congolese…  The perception is that non-South Africans take all the jobs, and xenophobic attacks in South Africa are sadly too frequent.

What are the answers to all this?  There are many things that would help – better use of public funds, improved education, more job opportunities, better policing…  But one of the things that is so clear is that the Bible speaks such truth when it says: “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure” (Jeremiah 17:9)  Human nature is fundamentally sinful, which is why we see poor government, corruption, poverty, crime and why indignant responses to these things can so easily spill over into anger and violence.

In the middle of all this, it is heartening to see that the Living Hope project, started out of the nearby Baptist church, is seen by local communities as a place of help and a beacon of light.  Local people of all faiths, and no faith at all, look to pastor John Thomas to speak words of truth and peace about what is happening.  Police sent from all around the Cape were given food and a place to take a break at the Living Hope campus, situated virtually opposite the turning in to Masi.  A friend who works at Living Hope was able to have some interesting conversations about God with police officers, and these hard working officers were touched by the fact that an appeal from Living Hope brought in sandwiches and cakes for them.  Apparently in these situations it is not uncommon for them to work 24 hours with nothing to eat or drink and they have never previously experienced a community feed and support them in this way.

Questions? Many.  Problems?  Even more.  Answers? Only one.

The LORD is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble…  But God will never forget the needy, the hope of the afflicted will never perish.

Psalm 9: 9, 18

Where did the bear come from?

This isn’t a wildlife post – no bears around here.  More a kind of sociological, anthropological, geographical kind of musing really.  I’ve had that children’s song “The bear went over the mountain” going round my head lately.  I’m not sure if there’s meant to be any moral lesson in that song. Perhaps the futility of curiosity?  But if you know the song you will remember that he only went over the mountain to see what he could see. And all he did see was the other side of the mountain.

I don’t know where the song originated but I can tell you with cast iron certainty exactly where it didn’t  come from. That bear was not from Fish Hoek. No way, no how.  There are two reasons for this:

1. We don’t get bears around here. Way back there were lions and all sorts of other exciting African animals. People (mostly white people with guns) put a stop to that, but there weren’t ever any bears.
2. Even if we did have bears living in Fish Hoek, you can be pretty sure that they would never ever have gone over the mountain for no other reason than just to see what could be seen. Uh-uh, not a chance. Here in Fish Hoek, going “over the mountain” is quite a big deal and something we definitely don’t just do on a whim. We are surrounded on three sides by mountains, and on the fourth we have the sea, so you will appreciate that those of us living here in the Valley (yes, it must have a capital letter) have developed our own sense of identity and perspective on life.  And going “over the mountain” is quite a big deal for us.

You will hear people asking if there is anywhere that still has gas to refill their gas bottles (we have a gas shortage as a natural consequence of the electricity shortage) without having to go over the mountain. You will find people making a list of all the other tasks they should do and shops they could visit while they are over the mountain.  You will not hear people saying they’re going over the mountain just to see what they can see.  Over the mountain journeys are significant events and not to be undertaken lightly.

So, you see, wherever that bear came from, he was not from Fish Hoek.  We’re not that kind of mindless travellers. After all, a journey which takes a whole 20 minutes over the top of the mountain, or a similar amount via the coast road (when they’re not digging it up as they have been for about four years now) is quite a big deal.

If you now have that song going around your head, please accept my apologies.  Incidentally, if you do a Google search for photos to go with a random blog post about bears and mountains you come up with some interesting variations…

 

 

 

Clearly bears have found the excitement of going over the mountain has worn thin and are looking for new thrills.

I have to go now. I will be going to Tokai on Monday and need to make a list of all the other things I must do while I’m over the mountain.  I’m not going all that way just for fun, you know. I’m not a bear!

 

Ooh, quick! The robot’s flashing…

I realise that a title like that means that some of you are completely with me, some of you are bewildered, some of you are feeling slightly disturbed and one or two of you (don’t you just love how I assume there are more than three people reading this blog?!) are saying “hang on, she’s mentioned robots before….”

For the uninitiated or the simply forgetful, robots in South Africa are what other people in other countries call traffic lights.  According to Wikipedia, this is because they were first known as “robot policemen” when they were introduced to take over from real policemen in the role of directing traffic at busy junction.  So, here are four things you really should know about robots…

1. The robots are where everything happens. This is where you go to sell stuff. So far the list of things we have seen being sold at robots includes:
– the Big Issue
– bows and arrows (toy ones, I hasten to add! Although given that our local locksmith sells pink tasers, anything is possible.)
– mobile phone chargers
– coat hangers
– tax disc holders
– hats
– pink flamingos (not live – made from plastic)
– inflatables of all sorts for swimming
– net covers for keeping the flies off your food
– paintings
– newspapers
– joke sheets
– toys
… and that’s just the ones I remember.

You can also buy people at robots. Not slave trading, but people often stand at the robots with signs offering their services for casual labour, and we have also come across some enterprising people who had printed out little slips of paper with their contact details on and were giving them to motorists as they stop.

Don’t for one moment think that being in the middle lane of three will mean you escape the attentions of the sellers – here in Africa we think nothing of standing in the middle of the lanes, and work on the basis that once the traffic starts moving again, provided you stand fairly still and don’t move suddenly, people will notice you there on the edge of their lane and miss you.

2. The sequencing of the lights is different here to in the UK. In the UK, the lights go green, orange, red, orange, green. Here, we go green, orange, red, green. And that sudden switch from red to green takes us by surprise every time! We also have flashing green arrows (you have right of way, please turn), flashing orange arrows (you won’t have right of way for much longer so turn quickly) and flashing red lights. I’m not that sure why the flashing red lights happen. From time to time you will find a junction where the lights in all directions are flashing red, and people treat this like a four way stop (see below). If you are turning at some junctions your lights might go from green to orange to red, then immediately back to a green flashing arrow. You really do need to keep your wits about you.

3. South Africans have a natural advantage when the traffic lights fail. Due to the demand for electricity exceeding the capacity to supply it, we have a schedule of power outages known as “load shedding”. (Incidentally, this has given rise to the verb “to be shed”, as in “When are we being shed today?”) During outages, most robots {traffic lights} will go out, although there are one or two strategic junctions, ie. particularly hazardous, where the robots remain on. In the UK, this generally results in total chaos and survival of the most aggressive. South Africans take traffic light failure in their stride, partly because they are just to used to it, but mostly because they are already trained for what to do in this kind of situation by having always had to deal with the joys of the four way stop street. These are a regular feature of the roads in the USA as well, I believe, but I have yet to see one in the UK. The principle of a four way stop is simple: you move on in the order in which you arrive, and if in doubt, always give way to the taxi. So, when we have no traffic lights, we just pretend it’s a four way stop and everybody is happy.

4. Pedestrian crossings:  We do have zebra crossings.  Unlike in the UK, pedestrians on the zebra crossing do not have right of way.  It is simply that they stand out better on the striped background and make it easier to miss (or hit) them.  We also have push button pedestrian crossings at certain traffic light junctions.  Somewhat disconcertingly, these operate on the basis that the little green man appears at the same time as the green light for traffic going in the same direction as pedestrians.  Which means that drivers turning at a junction have to (theoretically) give way to people walking across the road.  So that bold diagonal crossing that you can attempt at a UK traffic junction when you race the green man across the entire junction is completely out of the question here.  It is entirely possible that the pedestrian lights work differently in the city centre, but here in the quiet seaside town of Fish Hoek, that’s how we roll.

1 thing we’re really good at in Cape Town… and 2 that we’re not!

If you live in Cape Town, you can absolutely guarantee that by an early age you will have completely mastered the whole getting dressed and undressed thing.  I know that sounds a bit odd, but believe you me, around here you get a LOT of practice at putting on and removing clothes.  The simple reason for this is that in winter, you will have days when the temperature goes from very very cold to pleasantly warm all within an hour or so. 

Today, for example, I put on jeans, a long sleeved top, a jumper and a cardigan.  Not to mention warm socks and my fluffy slippers.  (I’m working from home today!)  By 10.30, the sun had come over the top of the mountain and it was warmer outside than in. When I opened the front door to let the sun in, I could smell the fresh, salty air and I came over all funny like the Mole in The Wind and the Willows when he smells the spring air and the scent of the river. Having emailed off the report I had been promising to our director, I decided that my reward for having done that and for having had to stay inside for two days earlier this week when the rain was coming in horizontally, was to walk into town for a few errands and maybe a sneaky little coffee by the beach.  And clearly a wardrobe adjustment was required.  Off came the socks and slippers, the jumper and the cardigan.  On went a cardigan that matched the top, a pair of shoes and off I went.  I nearly changed into cropped jeans but just couldn’t be bothered!  My mother will be disappointed (but not surprised) to know that I didn’t put any of the shed layers away.  But actually, there is no point.  They will all be going back on again later.  And I’ll still have a blanket around me on the sofa.  So, we are really good at getting dressed.  And undressed.  And re-dressed.

And things we’re not so good at here?

1. Walking on the pavement.  

I snapped this lady walking in front of me today.  It’s not a great photo because the sun was shining on the screen of my phone so I couldn’t really see properly, but you will see that in spite of the presence of a perfectly good patchwork pavement (sidewalk, whatever…) she has chosen to walk on the road.  This is actually fairly normal here.  Probably because quite often we just don’t have pavements, so walking on the road becomes a habit.  Or maybe there’s some subtle cultural thing I haven’t picked up on yet…. And I’m now known as that funny woman who walks on the pavements.

2. Driving sensibly around roundabouts (traffic circles).

We really seem to struggle with this one here in the backstreets of Fish Hoek.  It probably is a wider problem than just Fish Hoek though, given the confusion in “official” circles as to what the rules really are.  According to one bit of the AA South Africa website, circles operate on the same basis as 4-way stops, i.e. first come first go.  However, if you go by another part of the AA South Africa website and the Arrive Alive site, you must give way to traffic from the right.  Further research seems to indicate that it all depends on whether it is a mini roundabout or a big one, with mini roundabouts operating as a 4-way stop and bigger ones having priority to the right.  What actually happens is terrifying and unpredictable, perhaps because nobody wants to be the first one to get out of the car with a tape measure.  Before I started looking into this, I was a little confused.  Now I’m just plain bewildered.  I think perhaps the motto is “He who dares, wins”.

And yes, I did take a little walk along the beach and sat on a bench with a coffee enjoying the warmth.  Until a middle-aged man with a rubber ball on a piece of elastic wandered by and asked me if I was as lonely as he was.  He didn’t stop to wait for an answer which is just as well, because, unusually for me, I was lost for words.  The bouncy ball was a little distracting.

How to spot a South African abroad

There might be a point in time when this would be useful.  I can’t really think of when that might be, but here you go anyway.

Of course, there are some obvious pointers…. the Springbok rugby shirt.

the flag painted on the face.

Although you’re not likely to spot this away from major sporting events.  And of course, by “major sporting event” we do mostly mean rugby, cricket and football.  You’re not going to see many guys looking like this t the rhythmic gymnastics.

Another thing you might see, but given the temperature in the UK, this is a little unlikely, is Afrikaner shorts.

I do apologise if I offend anyone, but it is a known fact that some Afrikaans guys wear short shorts.  As per the photo.  These come in khaki or airforce blue. And only one length.

But assuming that it is too cold for shorts wearing, and bearing in mind that even when it is shorts weather, not all South Africans wear shorts like this, here are some ways you can definitely spot a South African in the UK:

At the petrol station:  The car that has pulled in very hesitantly, as if waiting for some kind of signal as to what the driver should be doing, then stops by a petrol pump and nobody gets out?  That’s a South African.  They were waiting for a petrol pump attendant to wave them towards the right spot, and now they’re waiting for someone to come and fill their car  up for them.  And check oil, water, tyre pressure, etc.  Be patient with them.  After a few minutes they’ll remember where they are, get out of the car and approach the petrol pump very nervously.  You might want to get in the queue behind someone else.

At the supermarket: 

1. If they come up to the checkout and look absolutely bewildered by the moving conveyor belt, but otherwise seem pretty much supermarket savvy… South African.  More specifically, if they’re from this particular part of Cape Town, they shop at Pick n Pay or Shoprite but not Checkers in Blue Route Mall.  Checkers in Blue Route Mall has genuine moving conveyor belts.  They’re incredibly short, but they are the real deal.  Where I shop, we just have to dump it all on the counter next to the till and keep shoving it along so the lady can reach it.

2. Now they have put their shopping on the belt, they are standing aimlessly whilst a huge pile of checked shopping mounts up on the other side of the checkout.  Every other shopper is frantically trying to pack their shopping at roughly the same speed at which it is scanned (which we all know is impossible).  The South African is wondering when the lady who packs the shopping is going to come along.  Again, join a different queue.

In the carpark:

If you spot a car with a bumper sticker indicating the driver is a South African in your local Tesco carpark, give it a wide berth.  Park a long long way away.  Once the South African has woken up to the necessity of packing their own shopping and has shlepped it to their car and put it in the boot all by themselves (a rare and exciting experience), they will get into the car and reverse backwards, waiting for the car park attendant to tell them to stop.  Only there is no car park attendant… Which is why you have parked your car a long long way away.

Seriously, after a few months here, I have already lost the ability to pack a shopping bag or judge the distance behind my car when reversing.  You’ll be glad to hear that Neil hasn’t bought any new shorts though.

Into the unknown…

This morning I felt like a proper missionary – even if only for a moment or two. At around 9.30, I met our pastor in the car park of a supermarket and set off into Mitchell’s Plain. Mitchell’s Plain is township about half an hour away from here. It is one of South Africa’s largest townships with a population of around 300,000. Around 90% of the population of Mitchell’s Plain are coloured, with about 7% being black, and the remainder Indian/Asian and white. The western half of Mitchell’s Plain is more affluent (relatively speaking) than the eastern half, and it was to the eastern half that I was headed today.

Housing in Mitchell’s Plain is largely made up of “proper” houses built from brick or concrete blocks, rather than the shacks made from corrugated iron and timber that you will see in the informal settlements. However, there is still much poverty and drug abuse and gangsterism are rife.

And so it was that I found myself heading along a long stretch of road, following a white bakkie (pickup truck). Given that most cars in South Africa seem to be white, and of those white car a disproportionately large number are bakkies, this could have been a bit of a challenge! This road winds its way along the coast, with sand dunes on either side. It is easy to imagine that you are many miles from anywhere, but actually just the other side of the dunes to the north are densely populated areas. For quite a long stretch of the road, the beach and the sea are right next to the road. At weekends, this is popular with fishermen, but even then, the sheer size of this beach means that it always seems very sparsely populated. This is a road that we have been told it is best not to drive along at night.

Once we turned off the road, we found ourselves on wide two-lane roads with small houses crammed in on either side. I was struck by how quiet the roads were – not many cars and not many people. This is probably a very different scene at rush hour but at 10am it was very quiet. Our little convoy headed first of all for the taxi rank (with a few missed turnings and three point turns on the way) to fetch a Nigerian lady who is studying theology here in Cape Town. She leads the Bible study that I was on my way to join. We then made our way through narrow back streets to collect various ladies before ending up at Sally’s house. The overall sense of the area is one of bleakness. There was no sign of much in the way of vegetation anywhere. A few very wind-battered saplings were leaning drunkenly away from the wind alongside the road at one place, but any open spaces were dust, not grass.

At Sally’s house, we did what ladies do so well everywhere in the world… we drank tea and we chatted, before we opened our Bibles and looked at the beginning of Philippians together.

The average age was probably around 55-65 – hard to tell as the only lady who mentioned her age told us she was 73 and I would never have guessed that! Most of the ladies have Afrikaans as their first language but attend an English speaking church and so they all put me to shame by being able to have Bible study in their second language. They are a lovely, loving group, who love the Lord and love to study his word. I know I am going to learn a lot from meeting with them.

At the end of the study, pastor Andrew came back (he had escaped the women as quickly as he could at the beginning of the session) and took me and a couple of the ladies to see a small school that the church there have started up. State-run schools in the area are very varied and there are often not enough places, leading to classes of unmanageable sizes. Trinity Church’s school has around a dozen children in the pre-school class, the same number in Grade R (Reception) and around the same number in Grade 1. They hope to grow the school with the children, but space is a challenge. There is sufficient space to accommodate next year’s Grade 2 class but after that they will run into real difficulties. The vision is to be able to buy two houses that are on the same block as the (small) church building and expand to fill that whole block. All of this will cost money which will only be found from donations and gifts. But for children in this area, a good primary education is essential if they are to be able to break out of the cycle of poverty that they live in, and the school hopes to provide these children with a Christian foundation to equip them to stand against the drug and gangster problems in the area.

The church also run children’s and youth programmes. One or two of their youth have come through to joint events with the youth at our church in Muizenberg and we would love to see if it is possible to send a few of them on youth camp in December, but the fees for that are prohibitively expensive for them. I asked how much… less than half of the FIEC camp we sent our girls on in the UK. The young people would gladly try to raise some funds themselves, but the reality is that there is no spare money within their communities. Hopefully we will find a way to subsidise them.

Once I had seen the school, the lovely ladies were very concerned that I should not be left to try to find my way out of Mitchell’s Plain alone, so we drove in convoy back to the main coast road, where I turned off and left them, ending up stuck behind a large and slow lorry. But given that the view out of the window was of the waves on the beach, it could have been worse!

I know that a number of people were praying for me this morning as I made my first visit to Mitchell’s Plain, and I was very thankful to God for that. Please do pray on that I will know how best I can serve these lovely women and enjoy the fellowship with them.

A fairly typical outlook in Mitchell’s Plain – although I didn’t see any grass!

Liberty Mall in Mitchell’s Plain – quite a contrast to other parts of the area

Beach life…

Down on the beach the other Saturday there was a lovely little visual illustration of how the church works.

As we wandered along the beach it was obvious that there was quite a bit happening down there.  There were flags up and tape marking a track and a finish line.  A very excitable commentary was coming over a very poor tannoy system, so it took us a while to work out why there were men in lycra running around the beach, leaping into the sea, straddling surf boards and paddling canoes.  And when I say “in lycra”… well, just be thankful that I didn’t take photos.  Leopard print speedos and a crop top?  We really struggled to see the significance or purpose of the tight fitting lycra crop tops… on guys?  Anyway, once we had overcome this visual attack on our sanity, we managed to work out that this was…. (go on, admit it, you’re really desperate to know)  an Iron Man competition.  I think there were some women taking part too, but let’s not get into the political incorrectness of this. (If you’re very concerned about political correctness and making sure we get man/woman inclusiveness in our language all the time, you might want to just skip the rest of this blog because it was going to take me too long to find the correct words and terminology once I got to…. oh, but that would ruin the suspense…. you’ll have to wait and see what’s coming!)  They seemed to have to do a run along the beach, a swim, another run, grab a surf board and propel themselves along on that whilst kneeling down, another run, then get a canoe before finishing up with a final run.  A small crowd (maybe 20 people… I did say “small”) was watching half heartedly.

By now, you’re wondering where on earth the church-mission illustration is coming from?  Well, quite literally in the middle of the course marked out for these lycra-clad leviathans, a very different group of men and women were engaged in a very different activity.  About a dozen scruffily dressed people, with wellies and a pretty cool collection of dreadlocks were busy untangling some fishing nets and sorting out a small fishing boat.  The Iron Men were running, paddling and canoeing past them without so much as a second glance.

And to be fair, the fishermen (“fisherpeople” “fisherpersons” “fisherfolk”? sorry, no) didn’t seem to be too overawed by the display of muscle power going on around them.  They had more important things on their minds – these are not leisure fishermen but people who do this for a living.

The nets and the boats have an obvious Biblical resonance – barring the dreadlocks, this could almost have been Galilee.  But it struck me that what was happening on the beach had a couple of little visual aids in there for us…

1. In a world where having fun and our leisure activities are seen as so important, where physical appearance and fitness can become an all-consuming passion, as Christians, we are (or should be) like that little group of fishermen on the beach; focused intently on something which really matters whilst everyone around us is focusing on their own amusement.  These fishermen (and women) knew that it was vital that the nets were untangled and stowed safely if any fish were to be caught, and this task took all their attention.

2. Even the less scientifically minded amongst us can look at that boat and look at the number of people helping out with the nets and see that they aren’t all going to fit in there.  Africa may be the place where we can fit 37 people into a 16 seater minibus, but we draw the line at attempting that sort of exercise with boats.   But apart from the guy in the red shirt on his own who I think was a bored tourist, the rest of them were very definitely part of the same team – they weren’t all going on the boat, but they were all equally invested in the success or failure of this fishing venture.  Do you see where I’m going with this one?  In church life, we have those people who seem to be the ones doing the up front stuff:  the ones we see going out in the boat.  Left behind on the shore, are the remaining two thirds of us, sometimes wondering if we’re actually making any valuable contribution to anything at all.

I think the actual crew of the boat is no more than about four or five.  That leaves a lot of people standing behind seeming to not really be important.  But having watched this team of people at work, I can tell you that the job of sorting the nets, untangling them and putting them carefully in the boat, moving the long poles that they use to stabilise the nets, dragging the boat up out of the water and carrying it safely out of the way… there is no way on this earth that four or five guys could do all that on their own.  They might be the ones who go out in the boat, but they are as dependent on the rest of their team as our church leaders, missionaries, evangelists, church planters and teachers are on the rest of us.  We all have a part to play.

We’re not going to draw out the fishing analogy any further here because I know we are all called to be fishers of men, reaching out to the lost.  The fact that these guys were fishermen is slightly irrelevant to the point which is that we’re all needed, we’re all in this together.

But I don’t know any pastors with dreadlocks.

 

 

Normal communication has been resumed….

I know, it’s been a long long time since the last blog posting.  Partly because it’s been a bit of a busy time in our household (more of that in a minute) and partly because I just didn’t seem to have much to say.  Weird and most unlike me.

Anyway, abnormal service is now being resumed, I hope.  

We have had a lovely introduction to the wonders of (private) healthcare in South Africa.  South Africa has a kind of two tier system, whereby those who can afford to do so, take out medical insurance and go private, and those who can’t afford to do that take their chances with the public health system.   I think public healthcare varies hugely from place to place, whereas if you are fortunate enough to be able to use the private system, the care is excellent.  South Africa, after all, is the home of the heart transplant, with the first successful transplants being carried out here in Cape Town.  And just this year, transplant teams here blazed another trail with a successful transplant of a very sensitive part of male anatomy, but let’s not go there.  We found out three days before we left the UK that I would probably be needing some gynaecological treatment.  Not great timing in some ways, but there you go.  So, I asked around here for recommendations and ended up making an appointment, which in due course led to a short stay in hospital and a spot of surgery.   No waiting lists – just pick a date and in you go.  I was a source of some amazement to the theatre staff when they found out I had only once been in hospital before (one hospital birth, one home birth) and had never had a general anaesthetic before.  Anyway, all went smoothly and I was out a few days later, all ready for six weeks of quiet recovering at home.

Or so I thought…. less than a week after my operation, we were at a different hospital with younger daughter.  She ended up having her appendix removed, so whether or not she will leave her heart in Africa remains to be seen, but her appendix is definitely staying.  We were admitted via Casualty by our GP and yet again, the quality of care was superb.  Izzy’s surgeon was lovely and we have since found out he is the surgeon of choice for other surgeons!

So much for a quiet recovery.  However, we are now both back on our feet, and looking forward to getting on with some more normal life.

It has been wonderful to see how God has been close to Izzy through this experience and she has known him to be with her.  I am able to say the same and to be thankful to him for the amazing way he provides us with spiritual family in new places.  A group of mums meet near us to study regularly and I had only managed two sessions before the hospital season opened up, but they stood with us in prayer, sent messages of encouragement and provided meals.  What a privilege to be part of God’s world wide family.  This has also been a useful time for me to put the brakes on and spend some time thinking and reflecting on what where I feel God would have me serve him here.  There is no shortage of opportunities for social or gospel work, but the Lord knows I have a tendency to leap in, and so forced me to take some time out before I could commit to anything.  I am excited about the possibilities that might be opening up, and continue to trust that God will lead and guide.

How does the (African) chicken cross the road?

To be honest, I have no idea, as we aren’t living in a rural area where chickens and goats roam free.  One of our neighbours has recently acquired an adolescent cockerel, or so I hear, but that’s as rural as it gets.  I know it’s an adolescent because I’ve never heard it crowing before mid-morning.

So, now that we’ve established my total ignorance about chickens, I can tell you that there are, however, some significant differences around the world in how people cross the road….

In America you would cross a road by car.  I understand that in city centres where people do actually walk, it is not acceptable to cross unless there is a green man at the lights, regardless of the amount of traffic.

In France, crossing the road as a pedestrian in a city centre is probably regarded by insurance companies as an extreme sport of the kind likely to send your premiums soaring.  French cities do have zebra crossings, but these are really there to suggest to pedestrians the most likely point at which they might like to consider losing a limb and to help the emergency services with speedy collection of body parts and hapless pedestrians.

In the UK, drivers will stop at zebra crossings and most pedestrians will remember what they were taught as children: stop, look, listen.  Local authorities employ people whose job it is to go around schools and teach pedestrian classes.  At least, they do in Worcestershire, because I have spent a whole morning assisting a lady as she taught a group of 9 year olds how to cross a road.  Thankfully there was no test at the end, otherwise my daughter would still be walking to school with L-plates on.

In South Africa, you cross as and when the mood takes you.  Only the weak and fearful wait until the road is clear in both directions.  The brave and cool go half way, then stand waiting as buses, lorries and taxies miss them by a hair.  In South Africa, it is also acceptable and perfectly normal to wander down the side of a three lane highway.  And to cross it without the aid of any man-made nonsense like bridges.  Very disconcerting to the British driver who has no experience of seeing people moving along the side of motorways.  We’re very used to seeing motorway maintenance staff at the side of motorways, but they’re usually not moving.

In Fish Hoek, we have quite a number of roundabouts, or circles, as we call them here.  Actually, the road layout in Fish Hoek is quite interesting.  We live on Carlton Road.  As you drive along Main Road you will see a road called Carlton Road turning off on one side.  Logically, you would think that is the place to turn if you want to come and see us, but if you do, you will find it comes to a fairly abrupt end at a T-junction and that the house numbers get nowhere near what you are looking for.  That’s because if you want to get to us, you have to turn down Banks Road, which then (at the circle) becomes the other half of Carlton Road.  This isn’t the only little local anomaly.  The back roads of Fish Hoek are often the place to find perplexed looking motorists who think they have found the road they were looking for, only to discover that this is just half of it.  The other half is somewhere else.  This could be an oversight on the part of the town planners, but personally I think it is part of a plan to keep outsiders away and deter tourists.

Anyway, the procedure for crossing a road junction with a roundabout-circle is very different here to in the UK.  I thought a little diagram might help, using the infamous “Magic Roundabout” in Swindon.  The route in blue is the route the British pedestrian would take.  The route in red is the South African route.  You will see that the blue route includes various points at which the pedestrian stops and assesses the situation.  The red route is pretty much straight from start to finish via the most direct possible route.  Any stopping points are likely to be half way across the road rather than at any predictable point.

So perhaps the question should be…. how do chickens cross the road?  They go round the edge of the roundabouts, because anyone with any guts knows you just go straight through the middle.