Simon's Town

Since I last blogged, we've said goodbye to some volunteers and welcomed new ones. On Wednesday night we had our weekly social, at Cubana, and then farewell drinks for a couple of people at Forrester's Pub. In more thrilling news, Wednesday was also the day that there was a shoot-out at the Wynberg Magistrate's Court (which I walk past twice a day) and a shark attack on a British man at Fish Hoek Beach.

On Thursday I visited Bonnytoun again. We did a workshop with the boys about gender issues and inequalities between men and women, particularly in South Africa. When asked about what it means to "be a man", one of the boys in our group said that it meant that you couldn't cry. He then went on to say that he had watched his brother get shot in front of him and in that same week his grandmother died; he said that he couldn't cry because his mother and his sisters needed him. This young man is in Bonnytoun because of seven different convictions, including one of murder. Incidentally, his brother is also inside - he attempted murder because he wanted to be in prison with his brother. After re-grouping with the other volunteers, it disturbed me to hear that a few of them had boys talk about how being a man meant you could force yourself on a woman, especially if she was a "tomboy" and "if she didn't like the penis". This refers to the practice of raping women who are (or appear to be) lesbians - what is commonly known as "corrective rape" - something that is, unfortunately, very prevalent in South Africa.

On a more positive note, today I accompanied Tash (a volunteer from the UK) to St. Anne's. St. Anne's is a shelter for women and children, located in the suburb of Woodstock. Tash is currently working with the women there, and she is helping to facilitate a jewellery sale where the women will sell handmade jewellery that they have been making. I must admit that the shelter was not the dingy, hidden-away hole that I was expecting - it was bright, cheerful and had plenty of space for the children to play:

My task today was to photograph the pieces that will go on sale.

Bracelets made by the women of St. Anne's

Evelyn (St. Anne's) and Tash look at the pieces

Because the office closed at 1pm, Rachel (UK) and I decided to visit Boulders Beach. Boulders is located near the historic suburb of Simon's Town, and is home to a colony of African Penguins. The train ride in to Simon's Town offered us spectacular views, although at times it felt as if we were going to topple off the rickety track and right into the water!

The beach itself was beautiful; in fact, it reminded me so much of some of our beaches in Western Australia (and I hate to admit it when another country has great beaches).

 View of Boulders Beach

Looking slightly windswept!

 The lovely Rachel

The penguins were, of course, the highlight of the trip:

We stopped for afternoon tea at a lovely little cafe overlooking the ocean, and indulged in dessert - deep-fried coconut ice cream and Frangelico crème brûlée:

The area surrounding Boulders really is picturesque, with houses set into the mountainside, hilly streets and sweeping views of the sea and Table Mountain National Park.

I'll leave you with a short video of the train ride into Simon's Town...and those adorable little penguins:

Sisters. Mothers. Daughters. Wives.

Those of you who know me will know that one of my greatest passions lies in the advocacy of women's and children's rights. So you can imagine my excitement at having the opportunity to work in this area during my time in South Africa.

Yesterday I had my first client consultation at PAHRO; today, I went with Maria and a few other volunteers to a legal clinic that PAHRO runs in Lavender Hill, in the Cape Flats area. The clinic is run in conjunction with another organisation - "Philisa Abafazi Bethu" (meaning "heal our women" in Xhosa) - and we run the free legal service in a bungalow on their premises. After today's clinic, I now have another client.

I could give you an outline of the type of legal research and work that I am doing for each client. But what I want to share with you are the stories that have been shared with me. Please note that I have changed all names and omitted certain specific details, including our legal advice. Sadly, however, these stories are representative of what is being faced by a large number of South African women - indeed, women all around the globe.

Elaine's Story

Elaine came to us at PAHRO as she needed assistance in appealing a sentence for a criminal conviction against her. Elaine had been the victim of an attack and attempted rape by an ex-boyfriend (in which she suffered multiple wounds, on her body and even genitals, inflicted by him with a beer bottle). The attack was executed in the presence of her son. In self-defence, Elaine had reached for the bottle and struck back. Because of the seriousness of her injuries, Elaine was hospitalised for a few days. Upon being discharged, she was arrested by the police. Due to certain connections that her ex-boyfriend had within the community (and, therefore, with the police), Elaine was beaten by the police and charged with the attempted murder of her ex-boyfriend. The charge was downgraded to assault, but not before Elaine had spent the better part of 3 years in prison. She is currently serving a 3-year sentence under house arrest, which means she risked a lot even leaving her house to come to our office. I think the image of Elaine lifting her clothes to show us her wounds will stay with me for a long time. Though, I suspect, not as long as her pain and anguish will stay with her.

Charlotte's Story

Charlotte came to the Lavender Hill clinic seeking information about what to do regarding an interdict (injunction) for a protection order, made by her mother, against her. Her mother is alleging that Charlotte, a young mother, is physically and verbally abusive towards her two children; Charlotte now risks having her children taken away from her. Charlotte believes that her mother is making the claim maliciously, due to the fact that she herself was not a good mother to Charlotte. They were constantly moving around and her mother always had relationships with "ex-cons" (in Charlotte's words). When Charlotte was 8-years-old, her mother's then boyfriend sexually abused her. When she told her mother this her mother did not believe her, laughing off the claims. Charlotte admitted to taking "tik" (methylamphetamines) at various points in her teenage life, but said that she had stopped when she fell pregnant. She had letters of support from her oldest child's school principal, neighbours and friends of the family. Her youngest child, whom she brought to the consultation, looked happy and healthy as far as we could tell. "I'll be damned if I let them take my children from me", she told us.

Gertrude's Story

Gertrude was another lady who attended the Lavender Hill clinic. Although one of Rachel's clients, I also sat in on her consultation and found her story (like those of the women before her) incredibly touching. Gertrude is trying to divorce her husband (and father of her children) because he is abusive and controlling. Moreover, he is a police officer (so who knows the extent of the control he exerts). Gertrude is a qualified teacher and manager; yet she has not been able (or allowed) to find employment in these fields. She has been trying to leave her marriage for the past 10 years, but to no avail. Again, Gertrude's tale was not dissimilar to ones I have heard before. But I found her strength and grace inspiring.  Although her manner was soft, her words spoke volumes: "I came into this marriage a poor person, and I don't care if I leave a poor person. I just want my independence". I come from a country where one of the greatest concerns in a divorce is the division of money and assets - and here was a woman who just wanted her freedom back.

I hope you read these three stories and spare a thought for the women in the middle of them. The last 48-hours, for me, have been a reminder of the suffering and abuse endured by women (and children) the world-over, particularly at the hands of men. I hope that, even in some small way, we can help Elaine, Charlotte and Gertrude. But what of the millions of other women and children? I keep telling myself: one step at a time. Unfortunately, on days like today, it seems like there are too many steps and not enough time.

I don't wish to end this blog post on a negative note, as I really believe in the work that various people and organisations are doing. So, as always, I welcome your thoughts, comments, ideas and questions.

Afternoon at Mzoli's

My first weekend in Cape Town did not disappoint. There were a few casualties (including my hair - which still smells of braai, despite two washes), but what a way to end my first week!

On Friday the office shut at 1pm, so a few of the girls and I went for an afternoon drink in the sunshine. I had my first glass of South African wine (chardonnay from Durban), although I will reserve my judgement on this front until after I have done some thorough research in the wine region...

Friday night was my first foray into the city. A large group of us volunteers hit up Long Street (apparently the place to be), starting our night at a rooftop bar at a backpackers. After that it was on to a series of pubs and bars where the music got progressively worse (i.e. better) and we met up with more volunteers. I took a number of hits about the Wallabies from a few Springbok fans, which might have ended in more than one bar fight had I been in a less forgiving mood. Two great things about the nightlife in Cape Town: 1. you don't need to get ridiculously dressed up; and 2. you don't need to spend an arm and a leg. And, because I like lists...Things I learned: 1. don't put cheap mobile phones in your back pocket, as they WILL break when you sit down; and 2. if there are chillies in the bottle of alcohol that they are pouring from, you should probably pick another drink.

So Saturday rolled around and I rolled out of bed sometime in the late morning. I had a pretty lazy day, that involved going for a good, greasy breakfast and wandering around the Cavendish mall. It was National Heritage Day (which meant braai day), but I was saving myself for Mzoli's again, so I chilled out around Wynberg Park and decided to lie low for the evening. That night was Latifa's turn to go out, and she looked amazing in her sari:

That's not to say my night was completely without excitement; a cat followed Natalie home and managed to find its way into our apartment (well, maybe we let it in).

Natalie with our feline friend

Sunday dawned, bright and clear, and I packed myself into a van with Meschak and a group of German and Swiss volunteers and headed to Mzoli's. I think I explained the concept behind Mzoli's in my second blog post, but it is entirely different on a Sunday. It seemed that every man, woman and dog (and I am not merely using an expression) crammed into the restaurant, which meant that it took us 2.5 hours to order and get our food! But that didn't matter, because we had South African cider and good company to pass the time.

 "Backstage" in the braai room: where the magic happens!

Not even at full capacity: this is NOT busy!

Enjoying South African cider

Meschak, Martin & Catherina

With some of the other volunteers

 Yes, that is a bucket full of sausage

Maybe it was the sunshine; maybe it was the hundreds of people dancing to the bass-heavy African beats - but it is as if the restaurant takes on a life of its own. The best thing is that it involves the entire community. There are hawkers touting everything from sunglasses to beer glasses, as well as a very illegal trade of alcohol (in that people in the nearby houses sell it, and I very much doubt they have licenses). If the word "vibrant" ever manifested itself in physical form, it would be Mzoli's on a Sunday.

A typical Mzoli's patron on a typical Mzoli's Sunday afternoon

I was meant to go horse-riding that afternoon, but after a grumpy taxi driver and a few miscommunications, a bunch of us ended up in Heathfield at a pizza place, where we spent the remainder of the afternoon/evening. But no matter; I have decided that I am on South Africa time and am just trying to go with it. Anyway, I have a whole lot of weekends ahead of me - and if this one was anything to go by, I don't think I'll want to leave Cape Town!

The Boys of Bonnytoun

The last two days have been consumed with work, both in and outside of the office. I have also been getting to know many of the other volunteers. Today I found myself on a project where, between the ten of us, we represented seven different countries (Australia, England, Scotland, France, Italy, Germany and America). This has to be one of the best aspects of Projects Abroad - not only am I learning about South African culture, I am also interacting with people from all over the globe.

Yesterday (Wednesday) I was assigned my first two legal files by Maria. The first is for a client who has a number of property-related issues (outstanding from a divorce - go figure); the second is for a client who needs assistance claiming money from a bank (it appears he is owed a sum under his insurance policy, yet the bank is refusing to cough up). I won't go into much more detail than that, out of respect for the privacy of the clients, but it is interesting work (particularly as I navigate the South African legal system and new legislation)!

Today I was out of the office for almost the entire day on various social justice projects. The first was a visit to Bonnytoun, a juvenile detention facility for young men (aged 14-17 years) who have allegedly committed crimes and are awaiting trial (and, in a few cases, for some who have been convicted and are awaiting transfer to prison). The drive out to Bonnytoun took just over 30 minutes, as it is located on the outskirts of Cape Town (in fact, quite close to the winelands). The facility itself was much like the juvenile detention centres I have seen back home: sparse units with dormitory-type cells and equipped with bunk beds, toilet facilities and even flat-screen televisions (possibly the only perk). There are about 60-80 boys at any given time, and they are split into two different dormitories - the red dorm (for the younger boys) and the blue dorm (for the older teenagers). There is a grassed area in the centre of the units, akin to an old-school prison exercise-pen. The boys are given three meals daily - at 8am, 1pm and 5pm. Other than that, I doubt there is much in the way of activities (outside of exercise and watching television).

The purpose of our visit today was to run the first session in a series of workshops called "Peace by PEACE", a conflict resolution program that was developed by the Columbia and Yale Universities. We split the boys into groups and worked through a number of activities with them - starting with ice-breakers, then talking about how conflicts start, how they escalate and what we can do to resolve them in a positive way. The boys were asked to give examples of conflicts that they had been involved in. In my group, two of the boys talked about a fight that had arisen when one had stolen drugs (marijuana) from the other. Although this caught me off guard, it was actually nothing compared to some of the other stories. Afterwards, when the PAHRO volunteers were discussing the session, I heard how one boy showed a volunteer the stab wounds all over his body from a knife fight with another boy (over a girl!) and another boy talked about his father beating him after coming home, high on methylamphetamines (or "tuk" as they call it here).

The boys themselves were a diverse group, not just in their age-range but also in their personalities. Some of them looked too young and innocent to be in a remand facility. Others looked older beyond their years. This made sense, as they are in Bonnytoun for everything ranging from pick-pocketing to murder. However, we were able to hold their attention spans for the better part of 70 minutes, and they in turn provided us with many laughs. One of mine was particularly cheeky, offering to show me his stash of weed (apparently family members will sneak drugs in to the boys, so this is not uncommon). At the conclusion of the session, all the boys wanted to shake hands and even get a hug - something which I was reluctant to do at first (wondering if they were going to try and cop a feel elsewhere!) but which I soon realised was harmless enough. Even the shyest boy in my group, who had barely said two words the entire time, lined up for a goodbye hug!

After lunch, I went back to the community centre I had visited on Tuesday, to assist the children with their debating workshop. Today we organised the children into teams and debated the topic, "That schools should not make students wear uniforms". Some very interesting points were made! From there we visited another community centre (in Athlone, another suburb), where we are helping the children prepare for a mock trial, which will eventually be held at the Wynberg Magistrates Court. The group of kids here was entirely different to our small (and placid) group at the previous centre. This group took a lot longer to settle down, were more interested in dancing and singing than memorising their speeches and seemed to be full of beans. That being said, they really surprised me with how quickly they picked things up. And it was great being around such spirited young people - they certainly kept all us volunteers on our toes!

Tonight, as always, Latifa had a fantastic dinner prepared for Natalie (my roommate) and me. Although this is what she calls one of her "simple" meals, it was delicious: deep-fried salmon patties, creamy potato mash, chilli beans, vegetables and rice.

I love that South Africans eat so much carbohydrate-rich food...especially as I work up an appetite on the 20-minute walk home from the main road each evening.

Tomorrow, being a Friday, the office closes at 1pm. No doubt I will find something to occupy my time with, particularly as I have a sunshine-filled weekend to look forward to.

From Town to Township

I'll begin by saying that, transport-wise, today went without incident. Apparently there is method to the minibus madness, so no big dramas getting to and from work. Today was jam-packed with activities and, as I have no photos, I will try to describe everything in detail.

Upon arriving at PAHRO, I was introduced to Theodore Kamwimbi, a human rights lawyer who heads up the office. Theo is originally from the Democratic Republic of Congo, and he shared his story with us of how he came to be in Cape Town. Unfortunately he leaves this Friday for Canada, to complete further study, so I don't have a lot of time to pick his brains! But he is clearly very passionate about the work he does in South Africa, which was very encouraging.

A few volunteers and Lyndon, the social justice co-ordinator, were going to Gugulethu (one of the townships) that morning. So I jumped on the bandwagon (or rather, in Lyndon's car) and went along.  It was like a completely different Cape Town to the one in which I have been living. In fact, in parts, it reminded me more of an Indian slum than anything else. From afar, it looked like a sea of shanty houses (flat roofs and crumbling walls). Once inside, I could see that the houses were secured dubiously with bits of corrugated iron, the "roads" were poor (and many without signage), dogs roamed freely...there was even a shop unashamedly marked "Ghetto-Tyres" (which, I must admit, elicited a giggle from me). But there were also aspects to Gugulethu that surprised me - such as the Shell petrol station and the large shopping mall, smack in the middle of everything.

The purpose of the visit to Gugulethu was to attend a community forum, on crime and social justice issues, that was aimed at engaging local residents. Other people in attendance included members of the local police force and councillors. Despite not understanding most of what was being said (the majority of the people spoke Xhosa), it was a really interesting experience. The discussion got quite heated in points and it was clear that there was a divide, even amongst residents. Some topics of concern were gangsterism, juvenile justice and family & domestic violence. However, the forum provided the community with the opportunity to express their concerns and put their heads together to reach solutions. The people at the forum were so welcoming and very open to having us (foreigners) sitting in on their discussions. In fact, for a township where there is one murder every two-and-a-half days, I found the people we met to be pretty friendly!

Since we were in Gugulethu, Lyndon took us to Mzoli's for lunch. To fully understand the institution that is Mzoli's, please read the Wikipedia entry. I will limit my description to what we ate: imagine walking in (to what is basically a butcher's shop), choosing a pile of meat, having that meat barbequed for you (here it is called braai)...and paying next to nothing for it. We ordered chicken wings, pork loin, lamb shanks, sausages and a slab of steamed bread (essential for mopping up those delicious braai juices), and paid the equivalent of AUD$4.50 each. And I haven't even described the taste yet. (Just so we're clear, it was amazing.) For me, the biggest difference between a normal BBQ and braai, is not just in the method of cooking, but rather in the mouth-watering spicy marinade. Who knows what these South Africans put in it - but it is bloody delicious!

After lunch it was a quick stop back at PAHRO, and then on to a community centre in another suburb of Cape Town. There, we spent the afternoon with local high school children, teaching them about public speaking and debating. Obviously an area that I do know something about (plus, they spoke English!) so this was a great activity for me to start with. The children will eventually form a mock trial team, so the purpose is to build their confidence and teach them skills that they can use for the mock trial, and beyond.

Although that brings the work part of my day to a close, the action didn't stop there! I had put my name down to take part in the staff vs. volunteers soccer match, held at an indoor sports centre in Claremont. I caught a taxi to the stadium (conquering yet another fear I'd had - catching a taxi alone in Cape Town); my driver's name was Vernon, a man who has lived in Cape Town his entire life ("and wouldn't live anywhere else!"). Anyway, the taxi turned out to be the least of my worries. Little did I know that a) I would be the only girl playing soccer! and b) the boys would be so violent. Maybe that's what you get when you throw an Italian, a couple of Poms, an American and a bunch of South Africans onto a field. I can't say that I really helped my team; my greatest achievement on the field was taking a soccer ball to the head (owch!) but that was purely accidental. I mainly just ran up and down, screaming when the ball came my way and failing to make two goals. On the plus side, I did work off my braai belly!

Having made some new friends amongst the volunteers at the soccer match (or perhaps they just felt sorry for me after witnessing my shambolic performance) I then went with them to Cubana, a restaurant and bar in Newlands (i.e. across the road from Claremont). I met a couple of other volunteers there - one girl from the UK and another from Darwin. Again, I couldn't get over how cheap food and drink was (about AUD$3-$6 per cocktail, and not much more for a main meal). Curse Perth and our exorbitant prices!

I'm back at home now, and ready to turn in for the night. I will share one last snippet with you though: after just three days in Cape Town, I have perfected the South African handshake. No, nothing dirty - just a very lengthy handshake that involves a ghetto-type grip and some thumb flicking. Yep, I'm practically a local.

Of Markets and Minicabs

Today was mainly my induction to Projects Abroad, the Projects Abroad Human Rights Office ("PAHRO", where I will be doing most of my work) and Cape Town in general.

I was met in the morning by Meschak, one of the volunteer co-ordinators:

He showed me how to take the minicab* to the Projects Abroad Head Office (located in Newlands, not far from Wynberg) and introduced me to the staff there. We then had lunch in Claremont (a familiar name!) and I picked up a South African mobile SIM card and mobile phone.

Ribs in a wrap? Chai-vanilla smoothie? Hell yes!

There was an amusing incident when two men came running towards us, screaming at us to get in their minicabs (a common occurrence); however, I jumped out of my skin in fright (thinking that they were about to mug us). I really need to get used to a few things around here...

After wandering through Cavendish Mall, we caught another minicab to PAHRO, located in Rondebosch (which is also home to the University of Cape Town campus). The offices are fairly new and spacious, especially as there are not many volunteers at this time of year:

I met Maria, one of the lawyers, who is from Kenya but studied law in Cape Town and was admitted in South Africa. At my induction was another volunteer from the UK - Rachael - who has just been admitted and is on leave.

The PAHRO legal services division was explained to us - there are five types of files which are allocated to volunteers, under the supervision of Maria or Theodore (who heads up the office). Most of the files are refugee files - these mainly require written work (such as submissions to the refugee tribunal) although some of the larger cases require representation at hearings. The second type of files are for the family law clients - these will often center around cases of domestic violence, child custody disputes and sometimes property. Thirdly, there are the human rights cases. These are often referred from other organisations, and require legal opinions and advice relating to violations of human rights. Fourthly, there are the workplace cases - the majority of which are unfair dismissal claims, but also a few sexual harassment allegations and disputes over pay. And then there are the cases that do not fit into any of the above areas - Maria said that a few cases in this category involved allegations of police brutality.

There is also a social justice division within PAHRO - the work in that division is at the grass roots level (going out to townships and educating people, working with youth in detention and also with other disenfranchised groups, such as battered women). I can expect to do some work in this division too, as well as work within legal services.

We caught a minicab back to Wynberg, and I took some photos of the neighbourhood for the benefit of the folks back home (please see my Flickr photostream below for a link to all the photos taken thus far).

 Markets, Lower Wynberg

Church and mountains, Upper Wynberg

Meschak very patiently put up with me stopping to gawk at squirrels and, every so often, the back of Table Mountain.

Tomorrow will be my first official day at PAHRO; however, I think the real test will be whether I can make it from Wynberg to Rondebosch on my own! Apparently I can look forward to a dinner of curry and pappadams tonight, courtesy of Latifa. So that should give me the energy to face another day...and another minicab ride.

Latifa (host mum) and me

* minicab: a mini-van that is built to seat 15 people, but really fits as many South Africans as can squash themselves into all corners of one...and my mode of transport to and from work for the next 2 months!

Welcome to the Rainbow Nation

Perth - Johannesburg

I think I knew that I was going to like South Africa before the plane even left Perth Airport. Elias - the big, black, gay flight attendant on SAA Flight 281 - quite literally did a song and a dance around the plane before take-off. The captain cracked a few jokes about the rugby. And the accents of the passengers on board were beginning to grow on me.

The flight from Perth to Johannesburg was 11 hours and 50 minutes. I slept for most of it, which turned out to be good (as I would later need my energy to sprint from the international terminal to the domestic terminal at O.R. Tambo Airport, 20kg of luggage hanging off various parts of my body).

Johannesburg - Cape Town

From Johannesburg, I caught another South African Airways flight to Cape Town (see above paragraph for the nail-biting thriller that was "Is-Zarah-going-to-make-her-flight?"). I was seated next to a coloured* man called Christopher, who has lived in Cape Town his entire life. He told me about growing up in apartheid South Africa and the changes he has seen since 1994 (post-apartheid). He recounted a story of helping a white (Afrikaner) colleague move house in the 1980s. After helping this colleague shift furniture into his new home, he was offered a drink. But he had to stand in the back garden and drink from a tin cup. He said that he did not really question this, as he had grown up with apartheid and since a child had accepted that was how things were. He then told me that, when apartheid was abolished, his colleague came to him and apologised for this incident. He proudly told me that now he not only goes to his colleague's house to watch movies (where he sits on the same couch), but that he is allowed to use his ensuite bathroom! Strange that such a simple thing should mean such a great deal. But despite such a fractured past, Christopher told me that South Africa is constantly changing for the better, and that he knows it will continue to change in his lifetime.

* I am still getting used to the fact that the terms "coloured", "white" and "black" are used to label the various ethnic groups within South Africa. Please be aware that I write this blog within the context of the South African culture, so no offence is meant when using these terms.

Cape Town

I was met at the airport by Denver Flowers, a driver who works for Projects Abroad. Denver had yet another take on race relations in South Africa ("You have money, you get away with murder. Literally.") and the experiences of his own people ("As a coloured person, the whites think you are stupid.") But he also had a very dry sense of humour ("You may say you have boyfriend, but plenty of girls also get South African boyfriend.") and was clearly impressed by me ("A girl with only one bag of clothes for 3 months? This is a first.")

Upon arriving at my host mother's flat in Wynberg, I was greeted by her cousin, Iris. Latifa (my host mother) was out for the day, so Iris welcomed me to her home. "Ubuntu", she said, "we must care for each other." She chewed my ear off with (what I assumed was the abridged version of) her life story. This is a woman who has been a social worker, counsellor and had - during her time working with orphans - met Mother Theresa. If that wasn't enough to place me in awe of her, she also nipped off for 30 minutes to "make me a home-cooked meal", then re-appeared with soup, chicken briyani and juice.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon reading ("Disgrace", by J.M. Coetzee) until Latifa returned. Latifa, a practising Muslim, is a mother and grandmother who owns and operates her own tour company. She made me feel right at home, and when I accompanied her and Iris out to the shops I felt like I was back in Perth, with mum. I also met Natalie, a Swiss girl who I am sharing my room with. Natalie speaks French and is currently learning English, so we are slowly getting to know each other (me with my atrocious French, and Natalie with her limited English). We bonded over the fact that she also loves the movie "Mean Girls" (she had a copy of the French DVD - "Lolita Malgré Moi") and my stuffed toy kangaroo. However, she was slightly horrified when I told her that we enjoy eating kangaroo (apparently this is something Australians and South Africans have in common - we both eat our national animals).

And, since a few people have asked me about the weather, I will offer this comment: it was raining when I arrived, it continued to rain this afternoon and it will probably rain tomorrow. The weather has made Table Mountain look particularly ominous, as it is shrouded in mist and cloud. Still, I can't help but get a kick every time I look out the window and see it looming over the city. I really am in Cape Town.