So a few weeks ago I woke up feeling sick, all dizzy lizzy. I thought, this has got to be food poisoning, but from what? (Seriously, how many more countries can give me food poisoning??) Maybe it was a stomach flu... So I did WHAT YOU SHOULD NEVER DO and googled my symptoms to see if stomach flu is common in Durban this time of year.
And, of course, flu like symptoms.... same as malaria!
Needless to say, worrywort here was half-conscious in a cold sweat, convinced she had contracted malaria from some rogue mosquito down from the north and was about to die a horrible spasmatic death.
But the chills passed and I managed to make a postponed meeting with Asiye eTafuleni in the afternoon. I tried to play it cool but was all, "I think I should go to the clinic to be tested for malaria". Tasmi took me seriously and said she and her boyfriend would take me there when he picked her up.
Waiting in line at the emergency room, a nurse asked me what I was there for.
"I think I should be tested for malaria." "Oh! Were you in Kruger or Zululand this weekend?" "Well, no." "The mosquito bite, is it infected?" "Well, no." "And you aren't sweating..." "Well, I did. For about 10 minutes a few hours ago..."
"Well, you can pay R400 ($60) to see a doctor but I'm pretty sure you don't have malaria."
Tas' boyfriend overhears and exclaims "WHAT? We came here for malaria??? HAHAHAHA! Aleks, I have had malaria three times, so believe when I say you do NOT have malaria. Let's go!!"
An obvious FAIL and an embarassing one at that.
Fastforward to yesterday. I'm back out doing fieldwork research, and one of our interviewed recyclers turns out to have TB. Sure, I only spoke with him for 10 minutes in the street, but I now have this nagging cough...
I wonder when's the earliest I can get a chest scan done without Sandile hearing about it.
Last month, Eugene invited me along on a tour of the Markets Of Warwick. Warwick Junction is the largest informal market in the country. Comprising seven different markets - including a bead market, clothes, veg, meat, and the herb/'muti' market - it's been around for 100 years as a place for informal traders to sell their products.
Last year, Warwick was under threat from redevelopment and also from a bad reputation it had garnered over the years as a dodgy place. So two major things to emerge from the traders is the Traders Against Crime watch group, and the Markets of Warwick community tourism project.
The project is organized by Asiye eTafuleni, an informal workers' NGO with whom I'll be working on a cardboard recycling project, but the goal is to one day hand the program completely over to the traders.
The day we went, we had a (typical) smattering of international tourists and women from the wealthy parts of town, coming to visit an area of Durban they had never visited before. Needless to say, they thrilled in the 'vibrancy' of the area.
The petrol station next door just opened up a Beauty and Relaxation Salon.
So now there is a spa I can go to at lunch!
And yeah, you heard me right, just your run-of-the-mill GAS STATION SPA. D, H and I have yet to check it out, but the super diva gay cashier who works the convenience store tells me they're actually "fabulous value".
Cast of Characters #3 - The Hipsters, the Fine Arts Club, and the Jollers
It was only a matter of time before we stumbled upon the hipsters and artistes of Durban.
Two weeks ago, the ExPat Crew visited the oldest coffee roastery in Glenwood (the Main St/Commercial Drive of Durban) to check out a night market. It was quite the scene. While there, Eugene started chatting up staffers Mitch and Dale. Cool kids impressed with our Vancouver street cred. They invited us out to a zombie(!) party out in Stamford Hill the following night. Where I ran into my neighbour and her deliciously artsy friends.
Together with his girlfriend, Mitch and Erin are the hub of the cool kids.
Sophie - neighbourand all-around retro sweetheart - with wicked photographer boyfriend Xavier.
Adorable Jess, Soph's best friend and singing partner. And this weekend, Eug, Christoph and I joined co-workers/fellow Thrillers Liz and Julie down the south coast, drank our faces off for a princely sum of $22(!!!!), convinced everyone to risk it with a late-night trek to the beach, and slept in a teepee. Awesome times, guys - thanks for the invite!
Julie and Liz, development planners after Troy's heart (aka no nonsense bitches out for a good time at all costs) Clown Gavin and SGF Andreas
Some days I leave work feeling extremely hopeful. Other days, it can seem quite helpless.
Community planning is an important building block for cities - bringing all stakeholders to the table to coordinate objectives for the long term is important policy to have. But at some point, Community Planners always have to break ties with the very people they have spent months connecting to. Usually when community consultation starts to look too much like social work - aka when people need help the most. Does that make us cognizant of our role, or just manipulative policy whores?
During Phase 1 of this project, our team became involved with a YMCA halfway house in the south of the city that takes orphan boys off the streets. They gave their opinions on a vision for the city, we taught them how to tend a vegetable garden in their yard, and we hooked them up with a mosaic tiler who would mentor them to mosaic using broken plates.
Listening to disadvantaged youth and giving them 'green' skills is undoubtedly a great thing. But Sikhathemba's programming goes far beyond this, and while more boys keep arriving, the financial support is starting to dry up. And they're frustrated and looking for the city to help. So who do they come to? Us, obviously.
The husband asked us to help them secure some paint to spruce up their buildings, and after weeks of trying to put them through to the appropriate channels, T said "screw it" and got a local paint supplier to donate a few buckets of paint. Of course, we'd deliver the paint accompanied by Communications staff and company banners, etc so the donation would be duly noted in a cheesy photo op.
Now this whole activity was beyond what community planners are supposed to do, but we still felt pretty douchey when we showed up and it was obvious that the two buckets of paint were not going to be enough. But we still had to do the photo op regardless. Awkward.
The wife was grateful, but when she showed us around the buildings so we could see all that needed to be done, I wanted so badly to organize a fundraiser right there. Couldn't we do something to help them secure the funds they needed to do this work that is so necessary in the area?
But that's the problem. While it is a true shame that this long-running halfway house is in desperate need of funds, there isn't much now that Community Planning can do to help. Nor should it even if it could, because God knows that dozens of other orgs in the city are in the same situation. This is the last interaction we'll likely have with this group; we'll continue to promote their organization to the "appropriate channels", but really all we can do is pray that this organization that was so helpful to us two years ago will manage to continue the very work that made them so valuable to us in the first place.
Not exactly the "sustainable" future we strive for, is it?
My 31st birthday will be one for the books - my big African birthday (as you can see, I decided to dress for the occassion). It was a busy one - out for lunch, my work party where I had to bring my own cake (??? - Bizarro Durban Strikes Again!), an 'exotic' Chinese birthday dinner with the ExPats, then choir, then a movie with my roommate. Though 2009/2010 was still a great time of homeyness and friends, my 30th year certainly wasn't what I had expected (I mean, I spent a shocking majority of it unemployed). So how wonderful it felt to turn 31 ridiculously happy with the place I am at in my life right now. Remember that sad bastard entry I posted when I first got here in Durban? Well, I can safely say that I feel I'm exactly where I should be in my life, doing exactly what I should be doing, and that I'm pretty darn good at it, too.
An amazing feeling, and one that has taken me by surprise. So this year's birthday morning song (yes, I still do this) had to be Dog Days Are Over. This year, I'm running fast for my mother, fast for my father, for my children, for my sisters and brothers. Leaving my love and my longing behind. You're right, Florence, I have carried them with me for too long.
Bring on the mandolins, retro beats, and sparkles and let's see what 31 brings me!
So granted, Halloween isn't exactly a worldwide tradition. But if there was any country that wouldn't understand Halloween, it would have to be South Africa. "So parents send their children out at night...." ?????? "dressed in scary outfits and masks..." ??????? "and they wander the streets banging on people's doors..." ?????????????? "and people gladly open their doors and reward this behaviour with candy" ????????????????????????
Sadly, this city just isn't there yet. I'm not even sure how trick or treating would work here - people standing out by their security gates?
Anyway, when TOC and I were all jazzed about celebrating Halloween, people were curious. The party crowd at Montezuma on Saturday was an odd but enthusiastic one.
And even though I knew no children would come, I still proudly put my jack o'lantern out on Sunday to celebrate one of my favourite holidays.
