Hobo vs. Student: A comparison

HOBO	STUDENT
Hobos lose teeth from hobo fights and biting pavements	Students lose teeth by drinking out of glass bottles and walking on uneven ground
Hobo's acquire their clothes from God knows where and pay little, or nothing, to achieve their "grunge"  look	Sudents pay large sums of blood money and tear holes in their perfectly good clothes to achieved the "sophisticated hobo" look. ‘Slebs have even caught onto the money saving scheme. Mary Kate Olsen has even had a fashion trend named after her:
Hobos don’t need toilet paper. They just use small animals or their pants.	Students go to great lengths to steal toilet paper from wherever possible, even if it means being caught on CCTV and throwing away their dignity.
Hobos sleep on very cleverly constructed make-shift beds made from a variety of everyday or household items, stolen goods and garbage. Hobos look at the world in a very unique way: that everything is theirs for them to sleep on.	Students sleep where ever they fall, in gutters, on toilet seats, in cars (that more than likely don’t belong to them), or on pavements. The comfort of the sleeping area directly depends on how much alcohol said student has consumed.
Hobos can crap their pants whenever they feel like it and nobody cares and / tells all their friends that a hobo crapped his pants. Because it is really quite alright and regular.	Students crap their pants if they get too drunk. It almost always occurs in a strange bed and when they perpetrator wakes up, a girl/ boy whom they don’t know is usually cowering in a corner rocking themselves and whimpering, there is also another bunch of strangers standing next to your bed pointing at a dark smudge on the mattress that matches the one on your pants. Shameful really.

South Africa: FAQ

This blog is dedicated to all the ignorant foreigners(ok, mainly Americans) who wish to travel to South Africa,expecting to see the big five at the drop of a hat and are surprised when there are no lions roaming the uncivilised "cities". If you are not an ignorant foreigner and have never asked any of these ridiculous questions then you have no need to feel mortified.

Please note: these are actual questions that I have been asked. If you have ever come across any gems, please do comment...


1. Are there white people in South Africa?


There is a simple answer to this, you simple minded racist American who has no passport and no idea about history outside of your own country (which takes up more space than it's worth): Yes, there are white people in South Africa. The British colonised this country, and, in doing so, brought their whiteness to the black South African soil. No, the whites have not died out in South Africa and are still very much alive. In fact, a white person is answering your question right now! Imagine that...

2. Is apartheid still in effect in South Africa?


No, you half wit. Take your finger out of your bum and read the news once in a while. If apartheid was still in effect you would not be allowed to come to our fabulous country because you're a self righteous, hypocritical prick who can frown on apartheid but can't admit that you gave your very own negro slave a good thrashing with your "foreign and exotic" ostrich leather belt (which,ironically,was made at the hands of another slave).


3. Will I be murdered in South Africa?


If that is your attitude, do not come here. If you look at every South African like they're a murderer you might actually convince them. And wind up getting yourself killed. In which case your fears were spot on, so you win, I guess. But then you'll be dead so you can't brag about it. The jokes on you. Ha.


4. Are there lions and other dangerous predators roaming the streets?


Yes and no. There are no lions in the streets. Although I have spotted a few predators. These come in the form of petty thieves and policemen who troll the streets looking for cars parked the right way,the wrong way,on the pavement,in a tree etc. When they find you, they will fine you. They seem to think it is better to keep crime down on the streets in the form of issuing speeding and parking fines rather than saving that victim of a violent mugging that occurred because said victim was walking around with an extravagant camera hanging around their neck (that's you, by the way) But no, the only "wild" animals roaming the streets are dogs with rabies and pompous tourists who've had one too many.

5. Can I carry my camera around my neck?


No. See above for reason.


6. What are the usual prices etc for meals, drinks, etc.?


Drinks: depending on where you go, ranging from between R5 and R50.
 R5 drinks may be found at any student gathering where the bartender is so drunk he accepts your bottle caps as a currency and there is a lady on the floor with no pants on who is feasting on people's shoelaces.
The drinks get more expensive the closer you get to civilization. Head to an area such as camps bay and you could be expected to pay anywhere between R40 and R500 for a drink that barely moistens your mouth and leaves you with a bitter after taste as well as an empty pocket.
Food: feast on red meat and biltong while you can, poor city dweller! The price of meat in South Africa is far cheaper when compared to your sorry town which considers 15 minutes enough time for a good steak to mature. Shame shame shame. That's the only important thing to know I suppose, otherwise the price of food is all relevant to how much you eat, really. So, if you're fat, bring lots of money for food. If you're thin, bring little money for food...that's how it works anyway isn't it?


7. What should I pack in the way of clothing?


Erm....clothes. Are you always this dumb when you travel? Surely you consider driving to work "travelling"? What do you do then? Fret about what outfit to where on the road and then end up wearing nothing because you had too many options and couldn't choose? Shame.
How about bulking up on your geography and look at the weather situation over here. In summer it's hot. Very hot. Depending on where you are, summer in South Africa ranges between extreme perspiration and melt-your-face-off. When it is winter it is proportionately cold. Except in durban. But everywhere else in South Africa can expect a bone chilling and Himalayan "yetty" socks kind of cold. So dress accordingly.


8. How will I get around and what transport is available?


Well, you can hire a car, but then you must be a capable driver who is prepared to drive on the right side of the road and dice with just about every CY driver out there. If you doubt your ability (which you should, South Africans don't drive, they race) then I don't know what to recommend. Taxi's are frightening and you have a greater chance of losing your life (and your belongings) in one of those than twisting your ankle in a child's ball pond. (The chances of that are nominal by the way). Buses are only starting to get their shit together now, and the train is affordable but scary if you're alone.
I would recommend the good old fashioned foot. (If you have one, although two are recommended).


9. Will I get HIV/AIDS if I travel to South Africa?


Why do you ask? Do you get stupid if you walk into a room full of people with low IQ's?
Unless you like to dabble in some "slap 'n tickle" with hobo's or banging everything that hip thrusts in your direction then you're pretty safe.
You're actually probably most susceptible to TB and other diseases that attack people with low immune systems. I would recommend a strong vaccination against stupidity and ignorance and plenty of book reading to decrease your likelihood of doing anything ridiculous.


I hope all of your questions were answered. If you have anything more worth asking, do not contact me. Look it up, you ignorant swine.

A series of unfortunate misunderstandings....

You know those moments when you think someone said something that they did not, but you acted according to what you thought they said,or you come to school dressed in civvies on the wrong day, or when you nod, smile and agree to something which you didnt even hear? Or maybe you pulled some innocent dance move on someone whom you thought to be a willing participant and they called the police. A small Misunderstanding is all it is. They happen to everyone.

So I have this friend Anel, prounced like a- nel. Not anal. I called her Anal once. She didn't like it. I saw things I wish I'd never seen that day, things an afrikaans girl shouting in something that was neither Afrikaans nor English, and a swift movement with a very sharp pinkie nail which had been kept hidden by an Austrian glove for the precise moments when people called her "Anal". I nearly lost an eyebrow. Razor sharp that nail was.
The history of her misunderstood name stems from a dyslexic man with an orange beard. His girlfriend is Anel's cousin and was out trying to find something to  buy for anel on her birthday. Finally when she found the perfect gift, she texted her boyfriend. " I brought Anel earrings", to which he understood "I bought Anal earrings".....:mmm.... You can see how he could be confused. At which point he muttered under his breath "I really wish you hadn't". Cue hilarious laughter and ridicule. Particularly when anel was presented with the earrings. Meant for the ears of course (what would one even call anal earrings? analings? That gives me an image of dingleberries, which, if I'm correct, is not far from the truth.....

Another small misunderstanding due to not listening and a poor comprehension in the English language occurred when I was in grade 7 during a performance of the Wizard of Oz. I looked very gay and munchkinny dressed in my oversized skirt and night cap. Whislt my friend Mel and I crouched behind a mushroom (awaiting to leap out and scare the Lion) I was stung by a bee. A bee on the set of the Wizard of Oz! Preposterous! It was excrutiating! I cried silently and announced to Mel in a whisper that I had been stung by a bee. At which she responded by looking at me incredulously and with disgust before whispering in a very harsh voice that I should remove myself immediately from behind the mushroom and get off the stage before I embarrassed myself. I didn't really understand her. I suppose a bee sting can be quite embarrassing? I didn't want to offend the crowd with my bee sting so I crept off the stage and hid in the curtains, missing the only 5 minutes of fame I have ever had in my short life. The misunderstanding comes to light when, after the play, I was pointed and  laughed at and called "wee wee munchkin" by all the other "cool" grade 7's. It turned out Mel had thought I had said "I just peeed!", so she claimed she was saving me from social suicide by telling me to get off the stage. Just as well she told the whole grade then that I peed my pants when I didn't. Nice. And the worst is that no one belives you when you say "I didn't just pee in my pants"....."Yeah ok, sure you didn't...."

This next misunderstanding may be the reason why my friend's mom laughs like a lunatic and calls me camel when she sees me. I was at home for the university holiday and had to catch up some studying for a psychology assignment about depression in adolescents, so I decided to get ahead and do some light reading on the subject. After reading an article about camel humps for about 2hours I came out feeling very confused and worried. So I phoned my very wise Dr friend Squiggy to ask her opinion on the matter:
Me: "Hey Squ, have you started reading up on psych yet?"
Squ: "Yes, have you?"
Me: "Well I've tried but I don't understand it, maybe you can help me. I really don't understand how camels have anything to do with psychology and adolescents. I know that they can store water in their humps and have multiple eyelids to protect them from sand and wind, but how does that affect their mental state? Do they suffer from depression because they live in an arid desert? Or because they have to survive invasive sand storms day in and day out? Or because arabs keep riding them and don't pay them? And how do they even measure depression in camels?! Please tell me what you came up with?"
Squ: "Um....... I think you read the article we had to read for biology instead....."
At which point Squiggy burst out laughing, dropped the phone and called her mom to tell her about my "hilarious" misfortune.
See? A simple misunderstanding which cost me my dignity as well as my mental well being. How about using that for a case study on depression?

Congrajulashins! Your cellnumber was picked in the Vodacom millionairs competishin and Yuo have wun R130 000 0 00. To clam your winings call Dr Joseph on 082 596 3698

Who hasn't received an sms like the one above?? Shame on you! You have yet to feel the confusion between excitement and anger when you win a fake competition that is in fact trying to steal from you.

With reference to my previous blog "I like to win competitions", you must understand that,by now, I like to win competitions. Therefore you can imagine my disappointment when I received this sms to call back Dr Joseph to claim my "winings" of millions. I was in a moral dilemma. I was torn between criticizing the millions of spelling and grammar mistakes which existed in but a single sms (surely its not possible to be THAT crap at English?) And making excuses for the composer of the sms because I so badly wanted to win those millions. And why should I have to phone them? I am a peasant and can't afford to phone people.

But I did. I phoned Dr Joseph just to check if I had, in fact, won my millions. He acted surprised when I called back, I imagined his face to look like a deer caught in the headlights, which I'm sure wasn't far off. He didn't sound like he was English, or even remotely literate. In fact, he sounded suspiciously like the man who had tried to steal my bike right from between my legs a couple weeks earlier using nothing but a walking stick and an off-looking wig.....He told me to call back in 5 minutes, so, instead of smelling a rat, I called back in 5 minutes. Then Dr Joseph confirmed with me that I had won the millions and asked me for my I'd number and my banking details. Then I told him I would call him back. You know, play hard to get.

So maybe I called my mom and several other friends before being advised to actually call Vodacom to verify my winnings. They confirmed that Dr Joseph was running a scam and I was a gullible lunatic for believing the SMS that was sent around to just about every Vodacom user to heighten their chances of selecting some poor, desperado tosser who couldn't distinguish between illiterate con artists and road signs. Enter: myself. How embarassing.

I was furious that it had all been a scam and it had played on my emotions of being a winner!

Most people would have left it there, feeling deflated and a bit silly. But no, not I. Instead I did call back Dr Joseph and told him that I knew that he was running a scam and that I had alerted Vodacom, the local police force, as well as tipped off the "HAWKS" that he was running an illegal scam and murdering neighbourhood cats..... Extreme? I think not. (I just threw in the cat story to spice it up a little. Needless to say the SAPS did not appreciate my sincerity)

All to which Dr Joseph replied "very well" and hung up on me. I couldn't believe that he didn't even fight for his cause?! Although I'm kind of glad because I did walk around looking over my shoulder for a couple months worrying that I had threatened the wrong prankster. I doubt it though, for someone who spelled "claim" as "clam", I think I need not worry.

Things to know about traveling in Africa.....

1. There are no such things as tampons in Africa.
Therefore be sure to pack a years supply when traveling. I made the mistake of disregarding this fact and learnt the hard way. Cheap pads are not fun and make a crunching noise when you walk on a hot day. On a cold day too for that matter.

2. No taxi's are road worthy. Therefore do not be alarmed when the boot (which has been cable tied shut) flies open mid-journey and all your belongings disappear

3. Apparently road rules do not apply to anyone with a wheel. I say "a wheel" because we did spot a very drunk looking man on a unicycle who looked to be in no state to be operating a wheel on the road

.
4. Goats and chickens also pay to ride the bus
It is completely normal to sit next to a goat on the bus. Don't be alarmed though, he's not there to snack on your pants, he's really just minding his own business and concentrating on getting from A to B. They also ride on the back of bicycles apprently. That was a strange sight indeed!!however, Chickens tend to "rule the roost" on most public forms of transport and you'll more often than not find yourself sitting next to a well groomed chicken as opposed to a human being. Or goat.

5. Cover up in the rural areas. Now this is where I find african customs ironic. Its perfectly fine to have your titties hanging out and about but flash some boys an ankle and you're that "harlot" running around the town giving all the boys ankle dances. So, keep the legs covered.

6. Men dont eat with women. Sexism is pretty rife in Africa, the women slave over the meal for the entire day and then they have to sit on the floor in another room while the men enjoy their meal sitting on very comfortable couches with a painting of jesus hanging up behind them.

7. Wear closed shoes. I didn't, I thought I'd be carefree and wear flip flops for my entire trip. At one point I stubbed my toe very viciously on a stick. Months later I was inspecting my feet like an ape and found the little devil lodged underneath my toenail. Nice. Rather avoid the scenario altogether and wear takkies and jeans like an american.

8. Keep it clean, sweep your dirt. Africans have an innate sense of pride in appearance. They even sweep their front yard which is made up solely of dirt. I don't know where they put the "dirt" which they sweep, but they make it look very clean. Be sure to keep your area clean too, apparently an unswept front yard is about as offensive as exposing yourself to the elderly.

9.Don't drink the beer that comes in a milk box. I believe its called "Chibuku". It's not right for beer to come in a box. That is all.

10. Be sure to take playing cards. You'll need them for a rainy day because there is no electricity.

11. Bus tickets are cheap for a reason. It costs approximately R40 for an 8 hour bus trip, because the buses are crap and guaranteed to break down. They can actually afford to make them so cheap because they manage to cram 200 people, 10 goats and about 30 chickens all onto one 60 seater bus. It's especially pleasant when the baby sitting squashed next to you gets carsick and regurgitates his mother's breast milk onto your lap.

12. Apparently filling up with petrol is irrelevant on a 10 hour bus ride

13. Barter! barter! barter!! Street vendors spot a white person and automatically triple everything to "mzungu prices". Try not to get ripped off, you know the value of things and sometimes it is better value for money if you barter the shirt off of your own back rather than pay a cent for that woven straw hat.

14. Yes, you can bath in the lake. It is not unusual to get your kit off and whip your hair back and forth in the lake whilst singing the latest hit and massaging sunsilk into your hair like you're in an exotic advert.

15. Don't buy those tasty looking critters on the kebabs. A) they are not cooked all the way through and B) they are rats. Vermin. Something that should not be put on a stick and roasted on an open fire and then put in your mouth.

16. When tired, catch a lift on a bike with no gears. It costs about R3.50 for a trip and you get to sit on the back of a bike while the poor man in front gets to pedal away up all the crazy hills with no gears.

17. It's normal for prisoners to get "day passes" where they leave the prison for the day and walk around the town peddling their wares. They just have to be back by bedtime. Good news that is, I'm sure the murderers and rapists will take those rules very seriously. That's not unsettling at all.

18. "Don't smoke the weed in the North, it'll make you go crazy", this is the best advice I received on my trip, coming from a Doctor on the plane ride next to us who had disproportionately large hands and brought up the subject of smoking weed when I made absolutely no reference to it whatsoever....

Cashiers with attitude

Every time I think I'm having a bad day, I just go on and pop into my nearest Dischem. Not only do they have a wide range of products to suit your every need, they also come at very affordable prices. I once went into a Dischem to purchase some Immodium, my favourite lunchtime snack. Not only did they have a special on Immodium (two for the price of one) but I also managed to walk out of there with a recipe book, a pair of ankle weights, (they're weak, ok) a heat pack, and a months supply of free tampons (they came with the heat pack. Bizarre, really). All for the  unbeatable price of R299!!!!! What a fantastic store!!!


But no, it is not for this reason alone that I wonder around the local Dischem on a particularly bad day. It is because, no matter how crap your day has been, you know that the women / man (unlikely) sitting behind the till has had by far a worse day than you. Times your shit day by 500 and, apparently, that is how bad it is to work at Dischem.


The reason I know this is because, recently I visited the store with my Cazza because I needed a product for a "friend" who was experiencing some lady problems. Thrush, if you must know. After asking at the till for some cream and hearing an immature snigger, we turned around to spot a very, very old man who was, in fact, laughing at us. Fantastic. How polite. After standing in the 40-man queue for 45 minutes, (You know how popular Dischem is on a Saturday, hot diggity!) we were told to go to till 7, where we were greeted, or, at least, snorted at, by a very sullen looking African woman with a very nicely done weave. I thought about commenting on it, but she didn't look to be in the mood. Now,I'm sure that Dischem values their customers and so, for future reference, I recommend that every till should have the "Dischem commandments" stuck onto it, with rules such as "Smile at the customers and greet them", "Do not be unkind to them when they would like to purchase a packet" or "Do not take your sweet time packaging an embarrassing product such as thrush cream". This would be helpful, I'm sure.
Instead, when we arrived at till 7, there was no smile, there was no kindness, and the lady with the nice weave certainly took her time packaging our product. This is more or less how the conversation went:


Dischem lady with weave: "Do you have a Dischem card?"
Cazza:                              "No"
Dischem lady with weave: *sigh* pulling of face into a grimace * sigh *
                                          "Do you have an ebucks card?"
Cazza:                               "No"
Dischem lady with weave: *sigh* sneer* (scans barcode of thrush cream)
                                        "Would you like a packet?"
Cazza:                              "Um, no thanks, that's ok"
Dischem lady with weave: *sort of smiles and perks up a bit*
(Megan nudges Cazza and reminds her that we are carrying around a box of thrush cream)
Cazza:                              "Um, actually, please may I have a packet?"
Dischem lady with weave: *sigh* mild suicidal look flashing in eyes * 


The Dischem lady then proceeded to find the smallest possible packet behind the counter to try to squash the box of thrush cream into. Obviously it did not work and she had to try a new bag. This bought about more sighing and a kind of vein that was becoming very prominent on her forehead. The box didn't fit into that bag either, eventually, when I started fearing for our lives about 4 bags later, I snatched it from her and said "Never mind", and ran from the store. She probably died after we left from being such a bitch.


See? No matter how shit you think your day may be, just think that, someone out there with a severe attitude (and possible mental health) problem is having a very hard time packing thrush cream into the correctly sized bag, and, as a result, are having by far a worse day than you.

I'm nearly back in the Circus

A couple months ago on I slipped a disc in my back. I know what you're thinking: "How the hell did she do that?!?!" In answer to your question: No I was not doing flick flacks across a slippery surface. And I was not break dancing with my fellow post men on a cardboard box outside the delivery room. I was not doing the tango with a very sexy Latino man and one of my heels broke. I didn't fall down some stairs when I was drunk. Nor did I fall off my bike trying to play the fool and showing off riding backwards. And I certainly wasn't trying to dance like Michael Jackson....well...not this time anyway...


Instead it is a very boring story. I was at work, and I simply bent over, tried to pick up a table, and instead fell to the floor writhing in agony clutching at my poor back. Not only did this happen at work. It also happened on Valentines day- only the busiest day in restaurant history the world over. I was in so much pain I nearly fainted. I strained a smile at my boss, and excused myself to go to the bathroom, where, as I tried to sit down, I experienced so much pain that I passed out. Then I woke up. Ok then I also threw up a little bit. Just a little. Luckily I managed to get off work for the rest of the day and went to the physio, who happened to be a very handsome, strapping young lad, and I cried and cried and cried and snotted all over his bed as well as the sleeve of his T-shirt. Humiliating.


This isn't the first time this has happened to me either. However the first slip of my disc is a far more entertaining story.


I was in Grade 9, an extremely awkward and ugly time for me. Not only had I finally hit puberty, 3 years later than all of my friends. I was quite chubby, I had braces that always seemed to attract very stubborn plant material, (which, by the way I chose to eat, it wasn't like I was bullied into eating grass or similar things, although, that wouldn't be a far cry either) I had mild acne, (due to the late onset of puberty) and it was also around the same time that I was nicknamed "Squirrel". I don't know why really but I think it had something to do with my unmanageable hair. Kids can be so cruel. Anyhoo, as if life wasn't heinous enough for me at that time, I had to make a mockery of myself by breaking my back in front of the entire school. So embarrassing.
 It was break time and I was hanging out at the tuck shop, obviously. (Just in case some poor sucker dropped 50c, or, even better, a nik nak) Break had also just let out, so all the grades were hanging around, and we were right next to the Matric quad. (Where I had my eye on a man with very curly hair whom I dreamt about making my under aged husband. I'm glad I didn't go through with it. Our children would be very ugly and curly.) I was trying to pass the time until I struck it lucky and so, obviously, practised my Michael Jackson dance moves. I did the one where he yells "HeeHee" and jumps up and balances on the tips of his toes. It was ideal for me because I had my good ol' "Toughees" on. Good shoes they are, them Toughees. My moves were getting better and I had almost perfected it, until some dipshit behind me moved backwards and sent me flying across the quad. It was one of those falls where you run faster and faster and get closer and closer to the ground, until you've landed flat on your face, basically running into the floor. However, as my face was about 10cm from the concrete, I hit a slippery spot and suddenly wrenched backwards and fell in the gutter. As if it wasn't embarrassing enough that the whole school and all of the matrics witnessed this "accident", what made it worse was that I couldn't get up. I was stuck and momentarily paralysed. Lovely. I think my back had also already been weakened when, a couple of weeks before, I was practising popping wheelies in a wheelchair and I came short. Down a flight of stairs.


Oh well, that is my sad story of my broken back. Not that you care, but it is slowly getting better and my dreams of joining the Moscow Circus and being with my trapeze partner, Roul, once again are within reach. For now I will just have to stick with Boswell Wilkie, polishing the clown's shoes and pursuing an affair with the stable hand who has one eye and a very suspicious looking kneecap..