Wednesday 19 February 2014

#Africaproblems

Let me preface this by saying I will not be complaining about Africa in this post. I love South Africa, and enjoy being a bit of a reverse migration trend. That being said, growing up in Australia means that some of the things I experience in South Africa have me amused.

Lately when I mention on facebook things that are only happening to me because I live here, I've created my own new hashtag (yes, I've succumbed to an internet subculture I don't entirely understand. Instagram and Twitter, you've made the hashtag more popular than ever before) - #AfricaProblems.

Here are some of my #Africa problems of late:

Number One: Monkeys

Image courtesy of National Geographic

Do not be fooled by these innocent, impish faces. They have already fooled my sister - every time she visits me, she is simply delighted by these little menaces. She finds it fun when they come inside your house.

The closest equivalent I had to these growing up in Australia was possums. They too are suburban pests. And though possums drive you insane at night with their nocturnal tendencies and running all over your roof, they are not nearly as invasive as monkeys.

Let me outline my history of home invasions with these masquerading imposters for you:

1. They first came into my house during the 2010 World Cup. This point is important as I just happened to have a vuvuzela (for a definition of a vuvuzela, visit here) sitting on the front table from the Australia vs Germany game the previous night. These monkeys will only respond to male dominance (sexists) so my female housemate and I were at a bit of a loss. So we picked up our nearest weapon and only hope: the vuvuzela.

Our attempts to brandish it as a stick were not so successful, but the loud hoots of the vuvuzela were enough to send it out the window. Thank you, ten years of French Horn, for giving me the basic mouth technique for playing this strange plastic instrument.

2 - 5. Two through five, as the next four visits were in my current kitchen to steal the last of my bananas, leaving the peels (and sometimes subsequent innocent dishes) scattered EVERYWHERE. I am sick of sterilizing the kitchen, and had to allay my husband's concerns over how exactly rabies is transmitted. Vile fruit thieves.

So we started keeping the windows closed in this sweltering Durban summer. But they still got in. They evolved genetically and have learnt to open windows. 

Urbanites, beware of this impending doom.


My Second #AfricaProblem: The Malfunctioning Security Gate

Image courtesy of google images

For those of you who are unaware, whenever you arrive at a South African suburban home, you will most likely be confronted with an image similar to the one above. I remember my first trip to South Africa in 2005, specifically the drive from the airport to our BnB in Johannesburg. I was jetlagged, and rather culture shocked by the stark contrasts of townships literally across the road from mansions, it shocked my 18-year-old sheltered Aussie hearts. And I remember the towering fences in suburbia and feeling overwhelmed at how claustrophobic the residents must feel.

Nine years and a few of my own brushes with crime later, I do have a better understanding of the situation here. Though I do like that the situation isn't quite as dramatic in Durban, though I do have my own automatic gate at the cottage my husband and I live at.

It feels so hi-tech to be able to press a button, have the remote open your gate, and drive into your house. Growing up in a country where only the absolute wealthiest people have such a set-up, it makes me feel fancy.

Except when the motor stops working. And until it is fixed, you spend every moment you want to leave the house repeating the following process:

1. Walking to the gate to unlock it and swing it open.
2. Walking back down the driveway to your car.
3. Reversing out of the driveway which involves an eternal struggle not to hit your side mirrors on the open gate. Ahem.
4. Getting out of the car to lock the gate, and being bitten by the giant ants that have taken up residence on the padlock every since you had to put oil on it in the hopes that it will open.
5. Getting back in your car, and driving away

....and then repeating this whole process when you come back home. Ugh.

Obviously, these aren't really problems. They are just how I refer to them as I appreciate the amusement such things bring (sometimes you have to laugh so you don't cry. Or get scared of genetically enhanced monkeys).

And as I said, I love South Africa and I hope I continue to enjoy the fun of #Africaproblems for years to come.


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