so I’m writing this as the power comes back on. we’re at stage 2 load shedding today but I’ve learned to check the eskom website everyday as yesterday was stage 3 which means 3 areas all had no power at once instead of just 2. It’s quickly become a part of the day-to-day. we dash to put the kettle on just before it starts and sit on our newly astroturfed balcony with new (for me) friends and candles (hopefully laura won’t come a-knocking… no open flames allowed!) talking about adventures, new jobs and juicy issues. maybe a small part of me is even enjoying this load shedding.

I’m chuffed about the positive response to my blog so I’m keen to do the next instalment. I want to be up-to-date and writing less retrospectively. Thanks for reading and for your support everyone!

So lots to tell. I got my car last week. yes the cubby hole (glove box) falls out onto the floor when you open it and there’s a ding on the right back side of the car. I think that’ll just make me blend in. Most cars around here sport a knock or a scratch as though it were a freckle and makes you more African. But that may just be my imagination. I’m excited. I’m no longer bound to the flat and am like a caged zebra snorting and kicking at the ground itching to stretch the hooves (ok my African metaphors may need some work…can you stretch hooves??). I’m happy. except when the boot doesn’t open. after a concerned phone call and an explanation of the mechanics of the locking mechanism (blonde moment?) i was good to go. i was instructed on the safety associated with cars. No, not how to indicate (something that is used inconsistently here) or parallel parking but things like: you must always put your handbag in the boot so they can’t ‘smash and grab’ (yikes!) and you must keep windows shut and doors locked (‘warthog” – family joke). lucky for the aircon. it was 32 degrees today. so now i’m free to weave and swerve in traffic as the locals do. whoop! I love the pace of the roads here. you snooze you lose.

i went to a book launch last week. a lady whose dad was involved in the anti apartheid struggle and exhiled to the UK was speaking with a former judge and friend of her father’s about her autobiography. it felt like my dad could have been friends with them and reminisced and cracked jokes with them over a castle beer. i left with her book signed plus a stack of others under my arm and a new friend’s number in my phone feeling happy about taking part in what the city has on offer. at the lights (here: robot (??)) I encountered a man. it was dusk so my radar was up and i felt someone approach from behind. he smiled when i looked back at him revealing huge gaps between his teeth which he seemed to slurp saliva through in order to prep his mouth for what was to come. he was stooped with dirty clothes and a backpack on his back. he croaked that he’s looking for a wife. would i be interested? after a second of processing I burst out laughing, the full blown tip your head back cackle laughing. but then i realised – he was for real and i had just laughed in his face. he asked if i had a rand for an old man who’d lost his wife 2 years ago but all i heard was him repeating his proposal. I hurredly declined and began to cross the road only to realise that’s not what he’d asked. it felt like a smack in the guts. what old man hobbling along with a cane and missing teeth should be begging? where is his glorious retirement, his family, his well deserved luxuries? but he’d already gone out of sight. i considered doing a lap to find him in my car but i didn’t and instead went home feeling like a bad person.

i had my first day at placement last week too. it is definitely going to be different work from at home. i received a chugger of a folder with reading material on the service, legislation, rape in SA and trauma interventions. As I flick through it I mentally high fived myself for finding a placement that is so organised but also realised I was going to face some big stuff. I had a long chat with my new supervisor, Shirley. She’s a lady able to play the line between gentle listener and spirited personality, short, blonde and she knows her stuff. She was keen to know what had brought me to this placement and what I was expecting. I decided pretty quickly that she was cool. Shirley talks to herself when she’s on the computer and says shit and fuck a bit and when she told me to come in late the next day she became my new favourite person.

the next morning i heard the story about the oz family in stellenbosch. I wondered how i was going to cope with these stories and feel safe. i decided I would stop reading the news at least for a while to settle in. they were killed by an axe to the head. i saw in a doco at home about khayelitsha township that that’s the prefered gang method of violence. they go for the head. arghhh. i decide to look look up self defence classes.

my fear across the day steadily increased. I visited the sexual assualt centre at the hospital where I heard about mothers being complicit in the sexual assault of their daughters because of poverty and to a meeting with other bodies that work in the sexual assault area – police, doctors, lawyers, hospital administration etc. on the way home i picked shirley’s brain for safety tips and how she copes with the day-to-day. in the afternoon i read a case file to start prepping for my first clients. yikes. the woman had suffered not just one but multiple assaults by people known and unknown to her; from my conversation with another counsellor i learn this isn’t rare here. that was followed by a meeting with the court support coordinator who with blazing eyes told me one after another shock stories.

i left that night my senses on high alert and doom settling into my gut. what the hell was i doing here? this is madness. i felt like when i watched paranormal activity and wanted my mum and slept with the light on for a month (did i mention i was 26 then?). it did have to be the only day i was approached by a homeless man wanting some money on my way to the car. i was already halfway to panic level so when he started walking towards me my heart hit sprint mode. ‘should i put my bag in the boot? should i just jump in the car and lock the doors? is there anyone else around? should i give him some money? should I run? arghhhh! don’t overreact. be cool. be cool’. i threw my bag in the boot and dived into the front seat, slammed my finger on the door lock button and smashed the accelerator- nothing but away! on the drive home i had to grip the wheel to steady myself and breathe. all i wanted to do was move. move into another neighbourhood, move out of the placement, maybe even move home. I jumped on skype doctor. it was 2am at home but my poor parents exhausted from working a big week of markets patiently ‘held back my hair’ as I vomitted out all my fear – gang rapes, multiple rapes, living near a street of regular muggings, hijackings, flying bullets. this is not the africa you left!

it’s interesting how quickly you can lose the plot. i felt like this was de ja vu of my first night but this time it was like i was the scared child and the perspective-keeping wise adult that knew it would pass all in one. talking with my parents i noticed my initial panic subsided quickly when given the airtime and i had a clear plan for exploring my options. that night i went to the hairdresser (who was super rough and nearly ripped chunks of hair out. aaauuwww!) but the similarity of the ritual to something from home, a good sleep and of course the chat with my parents seemed to be the morphine i needed. i came to my senses. i was not in a gangland warzone. i was not living in a squatter camp (more pc: informal settlement) or township. my family and friends who patiently listened to my worries were right. i needed to give myself some credit. i am savvy and i have good instincts. i’ve travelled before. gosh i’ve even managed a situation in rome with a false armed gypsy man trying to steal my best mate’s bag. yes we almost got ourselves in deep shit by following him but still (:)). my supervisor had said international students often become paranoid for a while and then settle. yep. that was me. that night I was in the flat alone and slept right through.

The antidote to my week of adrenalin was a weekend with my new swiss friend from the book launch. That Friday we went out for a drink in the afternoon sunshine of Gardens. My sister and I had stayed there when we came out in June and thought it was beautiful. Yoga places, cute cafes and health food shops sprinkled along streets clogged with parked cars. We even went to the place where Zinz and I had had our first meal – ‘phat’ oreo milkshake in 1 litre globe glass with a juicy burger. this time I went for my paleo (called banting here)-friendly sparkling water and a roast veg salad. it was the perfect afternoon to compare travel stories and gush about Cape Town. when paying i added just under a 10% tip (total 124 rand and I said 135) only to be reprimanded by the waitress – was i from overseas? was there anything wrong with the service? and oh just so you know here in SA it’s customary to give a 10% tip if the service was good. ummm..thanks for the great service?! so we left and i thought next time i might try somewhere else. woodstock was growing on me more and more.

In stark contrast that night we went to a beautiful restaurant in the same area – charcoal -thanks trip advisor!. Picture a little cottage lit up in a dark road where the waiter sees you coming and welcomes you as you walk through the gate. Through the two large solid timber doors we entered a gently lit lounge/dining room set up with cushioned benches around the walls and filled with a mix of romantic whispers and friends laughing (the only thing missing from my date was a man!) We chose a corner where both of us wriggled to get comfy and grinned at each other. the grinning was further encouraged by the local wine that was sent out for us and the menu that comprised south african food choices. Dad’s recommendation of kabeljou fish was available but would have to wait for another time. we were going meat. ostrich and the kudu. and it melted, it dissolved into salty, sweet, juiciness in my mouth. after we’d solved the problems of the world the bill came out. $35 AUD each and even less in franc. We gave a 15% tip and smiled. i think i’ve found my happy place.