Hours

We're on the carpet, sorting through an entire room scattered with Lego. We need some pink block to add to the construction of your house. First we tackled the camper van, then its trailer, then the camping table, and now the house. Her brother is building a monster truck, complete with battery-powered lights and the ability to pull a little built car onto its loading zone. Man, Lego, I hadn't remembered that playing with plastics blocks was so much fun (and so exhausting).

I originally wasn't there for the Lego, but for the coffee. My neighbour had asked this morning if I wanted to come visit a bit later, so this afternoon I walked over. I thought it would be this quick "hello, how was your week away, ok bye", but instead we played Lego with the kids and had coffee and then wine and then dinner. It was really fun not to be sitting with instant noodles and watching 7de Laan by myself.

Earlier today I read this article about South Africans in Europe and how when they are here they feel this need to emigrate because here it is so terrible with the corruption and violent crimes and general underlying feeling that at some point in the not so distant future, we will collapse completely into lawlessness. But the author made the point that mostly going away makes one realise what one had before, and then one misses the wide open spaces and knowing one's neighbours and chilling at the till because the cashier is working at a snail's pace.

I agree with the sentiment that "when South Africans speak up about crumbling infrastructure, poor service delivery and ridiculous schedule overruns it should not be viewed as privileged pandering", because we shouldn't accept that the police and the government is, at least in part, corrupt. We shouldn't have to patrol our neighbourhoods, we shouldn't have to be afraid all the time, and we shouldn't always play the race card when anything goes wrong.

But with all its faults, I think it is the people that still make us an endearing nation. It is that evening where you hung out at your neighbours just because, or that day your friend will played chauffeur and came to your graduation, or that your cleaning lady still calls you on your birthday even though she is retired, or that you make an extra lunch on Tuesdays for the guy who delivers the free newspaper. In the end it is simply that you like living here more than you would like leaving.

Nobody Nowhere

The three of us get off at Lognes. Or is it Torcy. I can't remember. We walk towards her house, past the bushes where the homeless sleep, past countless rows of apartment blocks and tiny suburban homes that look like they were taken from the Weeds title sequence. Little boxes in a mostly Asian neighbourhood.

Three older, Muslim gentlemen approach. Since we are the only people on the road, I say hello. They don't greet back. My friends also think it was weird. Why would you greet them.

But here, I do. Not everyone everywhere. It is not as though I walk around campus or shopping centres or the gym uttering hellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohelllo to anything that moves. Nevertheless, when my butt has been flattened by a day of sitting on my ass in front of a screen, I go on a walkabout in my neighbourhood. Mostly it is around the time that people return home from work, or walk their dogs or go jogging. So when someone passes, both parties ordinarily acknowledge the other, we nod or say hello. I don't think it is all that strange. Better than staring at my feet and ignoring that someone just walked past me when we are the only ones in the street.

In Germany we never really saw the other people living in our building. In France, I just saw my room mate, but it might have had something to do with the fact that we shared 18m². There, you just saw hundreds of people in the bus and the metro and the RER. Maybe it is that here we are privy to a lot more space, so seeing the neighbours is not considered a negative thing since we don't live on top of each other and can't hear what they are doing at all hours through thin walls.

Who knows. My friends might have been right and I should stop greeting random people, or I could be right and others should try greeting, too. 

Koekeloer

* Jammer ek kry dit net nie reg om 'n dit (:) op die (e) te sit nie. Simpel Alt+ wil nie werk nie.

Party keer is ek moeg van sit en moeg om na my skootrekenaar se skerm te kyk en moeg om te maak as of ek gym toe gaan en moeg vir goed leer en moeg vir die mense om my en moeg vir die verantwoordelikhede van die aldag en net moeg vir die lewe. Party keer wil ek net my oe sluit en slaap tot ek volgende week van self wakker word en die wêreld heeltemal verander het.

Vandag het ek die tweede eksamen uit nege geskryf en ek is al klaar uitgeput. Dis nie dat ek dit nie geniet om te leer nie, dis net dat ek dit nie geniet om daaroor getoets te word nie. Ek sou verkies om net mondelinge te doen. Om julle te oortuig met my woorde, nie my skrif nie.

Nou ja. As ek moeg raak vir hierdie vier mure gaan stap ek party keer deur die buurt en koekeloer vir die mense wat hier om my bly. Noudiedag het ek die fantastiese heuwel ( haha) aan wie se voet ons bly  uitgestap (dis letterlik net 50m, ek laat dit nou na 'n berg klink). Toe ek aan die ander kant weer afstap kom 'n ouerige paartjie uit hul kompleks. Ek sou skat altwee was in hul sewentigs. Sy het 'n donker blou broek en blou toppie en 'n string pêrels gedra. Haar hare was mooi opgepof soos die dames in Mad Men. Die oom het 'n deftige helderbruin ( nie juis bruin nie, eer soos sandkleur) broek gedra met 'n ordentlike hemp, 'n bruin belt en netjiese bruin skoene. Dit was snaaks om mense te sien wat vir 'n sondagmiddagstappie so uitegevat lyk.

Die tweetjies het handjies gehou. Hulle skaduwee het een geword soos hulle die heuweltjie afgestap het. Hy het net een keer vinnig haar hand gelos om oor die straat te stap maar dadelik weer daarna gesoek toe hulle aan die ander kant was.

Ek powerwalk toe maar verby. Ek wil nie die derde wiel wees hier nie. En dit lyk bietjie snaaks as ek so vir hulle dophou. Dis snaaks wat mens so Sondagmiddag sien: kinder speel in tuine, mense braai, honde blaf. Dit lyk as of almal tog heel gelukkig is.

Later sien ek toe weer 'n ouer paartjie. Hierdie keer was hulle nie heeltemal so uitgevat nie: sy het 'n beige sak aangehad en sy wit hemp was die selfde kleur as sy hare.

Toe hulle sien ek stap aan die selfe kant van die straat as hulle het hulle vinnig gewissel. Ek wonder hoekom. Oor my? Ek hoop nie so nie. Ek hoor hy sê vir sy vrou dat die son nie so sterk sal wees aan die ander kant nie. Ek weet darem nie, dis 'n Sondagmiddag en die son is oorals.

Dis vir my lekker om vir die bure te kyk. Mens weet nooit wie woon agter al die hoe heinings nie en niemand gesels meer met mekaar nie. Vroeer het ons partytjies gehou en almal om ons genooi, maar daai dae is verby. Met party bure praat mens en het 'n goeie verhouding, maar met die meestes nie. Agter in die een hoek van die tuin is daar 'n hekkie wat na die bure se tuin gaan. Ek ondthou ons het hom toe ek klein was dalk een of twee keer oopgesluit. Nie meer nie. Ek wonder of die mense wat na ons in die huis gaan bly dalk weer die hekkie sal oopmaak of of ons gemeente maar almal agter hul mure sal skuil.