Suffered from a severe case of writer's block, or in my case blogger's block recently. I spent my first week back in South Africa in a daze, the second week I was in Durban and the third week, this week, I was pretty much in denial. Which leaves this coming week to do a gazillion-and-one things. Yeah! Procrastination is alive and well and temporarily living in the le Roux-cottage in Fourways, Johannesburg!
Tonight I find myself sitting
under the blanket my mom made me, sipping my green pea and ham soup and trying
desperately to ward off the freezing cold weather outside and the severe
loneliness inside the cottage. Tried to call the hubby for a chat but had
to call it a day after several "Hello my Love, can you hear me? Yes, I
can hearbzzzzzzzzzz's". Frustration.
Drove around the streets of
Pretoria, now called Tshwane, roughly translated meaning "screw the
Boere, we're changing all the names". More accurately, Tshwane
is the Setswana name for the Apies River, (apie = small ape) which runs through
the city. Some sources say Tshwane means "black cow", so
I am not sure if the people of Pretoria are now referred to as apes or cows,
but suffice it to say I think this name change was quite unnecessary and a
complete waste of taxpayers' money. Ok, rant over...
Feeling melancholic tonight
after my sojourn through the streets of... *clenched teeth* Tshwane, the
town where I grew up and where the majority of my family still lives.
While I love Johannesburg with it's insane traffic and constant rush to
do-more-see-more-earn-more-have-more-be-more; and the completely calm bubble I
now live in, in Jordan, I miss the old-time charm of Pretoria, sorry,
Tshwane. Screw that. Pretoria. That lovely grand dame of
South Africa with her Herbert Baker-buildings, her squiggly Jacaranda lined
double-wide streets and the purple Jacaranda dress she wears only in October
for her inhabitants' delight. And the smell...
To me, Pretoria smells unlike
anywhere else in the world. I can't pinpoint it. It is just
different. Maybe I don't really smell Pretoria. Maybe it's the memories
of growing up, of hating high school but loving the friends I made there.
Maybe it's the security that came from not having to
move around all the time, the stability. Maybe it's remembering the smells of
the Sterland ice rink where we used to go and ice skate whenever the
opportunity arose; of drinking copious amounts of blue Slush Puppies; or
thoughts of the Wimpy where I fell in love with double cheese burgers and
chocolate milkshakes. Or the irresistible aroma of lamb chops and wors (sausage)
on the braai at Loftus Versveld before all rugby matches.
Maybe all of the
above... Hmmm, I suddenly realise where my love for food comes from: food
equals love, warmth, comfort, happiness. Good times. Let them
roll...
Under the Jacaranda tree
The Union Buildings, Pretoria
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ReplyDeleteI've long maintained that if I ever found myself in a position where I had to live in a city Pretoria would be my first choice. Shame it no longer exists...
ReplyDeleteI think a lot of it is still there, Herman. It just takes longer to find, but if you know what you are looking for... yup. Still there. I am deeply saddened about all those old apartment buildings in Sunnyside and Arcadia, though. I think that is gone forever. I used to dream of having an apartment in one of those old buildings with the bay windows and wooden floors. Sadly, it seems mostly druglords and other unsavouries now live there. Wonder if someone sometimes looks at the buildings and appreciate their beauty?
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