Two weeks off from Thandokhulu has left me in a state of relaxation I have not experienced in Cape Town. Instead of waking up at 6 in the morning, teaching at Thandokhulu, rushing to Khayelitsha for a book club, and then running straight to class, I’m sleeping in, taking time to myself, and exploring Cape Town from an entirely different vantage point.
At first, it almost seemed like I was doing something wrong. Not only had I deterred from my routine that had apparently became more ingrained than I even realized, but I had time to breathe. Once I got over the initial shock, I decided to try some new things.
I started with experiencing Cape Town entirely on my own, something I had never really done before. As Observatory (more commonly known as Obs) was a favorite area of mine, I decided to go spend some time there on my own.I flagged down a minibus and crammed on, suddenly more aware of how much I stood out now that I was alone. I had not been to Obs in a few weeks, and I could not remember if the ride there was five or six rand. I asked the caller (the man who calls out the window of the minibus) how much, and he told me R8. Which isn’t true. Partially out of nervousness from being alone, partially out of not really caring since he only overcharged me by 26 American cents, I handed him the money without questioning him. As soon as I did it though, I was frustrated. I was mad at myself for being too passive, I was mad at him for overcharging me. I then, somehow or another, got mad at the whole city. I got mad at the poverty and its affect on the whole country, I got mad at the unrelenting draw to white people and their perceived money and fame. I was just irrationally and unfairly mad.
The caller then began to talk to me in either mumbled English or, more likely, Afrikaans. I explained to him that I could not understand him, but he continued to repeat himself. Finally, a woman in front of me cut him off abruptly by saying, “She’s American.” Her tone seemed annoyed and borderline rude and I assumed it was on account of me. I laughed nervously, affirming that yes, I was American, and settled in to stare out the window and mind my own business.
A few moments later then woman turned to me and touched my knee lightly. “Just a word of advice,” she whispered softly, “make sure you ask how much it costs before you even get on the minibus. They can tell you’re not from around here and they’ll take advantage of you.” “Yeah, I know, he overcharged me. Thank you.” I replied with a smile.
I was relieved to know that I had miscalculated; the woman was not annoyed with me. I turned back to the window, a little more at ease. A good five minutes had passed before the woman again turned to speak to me. She gestured to the caller and said, “He’s not going to apologize to you, but I am. I’m so sorry. We’re not all like that.” She seemed so hurt by this man’s actions, and I immediately felt a rush of gratitude towards her. “No, I know. I’ve had nothing but good experiences before this.” Not entirely true. But her kindness erased them all. I was beaming with happiness on the inside, simply because of this tiny little act of kindness this woman showed. It’s amazing how much one person can change your entire attitude. Or at least mine.
I got to Obs, shopped around, and had a great lunch at an organic restaurant where I was able to order freshly squeezed beet juice. But I walked home.
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