I find myself staying at a backpacker lodge in one of the smarter suburbs of Joburg. Cheap, at less than 10€ a night, including free tea and coffee all day and an all you can eat breakfast. Lots of very interesting fellow guests from South Africa including a 40 strong, black church choir and of course, a strong international presence to boot.
Yesterday, along with a few fellow intrepid explorers, we braved downtown Joburg. Saw the sights, did the obligatory cultural bit and then debated over a visit to the South African Breweries World of Beer exhibition. For around 4.50€, one gets a tour, small beer served in a mocked up 1890 goldfield saloon bar, complete with pianola music and two beers of choice in the on site bar afterwards. They even let you keep the glass!
Taking a regretful leave of the exhibition, my by now, cheery companions and I retraced our steps to the lodge to arrive in time for dinner. South Africa is not the place to go on a diet. These guys don't screw about on the food stakes. 4€ buys a dinner to challenge the strongest waistband. No wonder all the Boers, (they are the ones in shorts with socks up to the knee), I have met are built like brick shithouses.
Ever the insomniac, I cadged a lift with the transfer bus back into town this, (Sunday), morning. As we neared the centre, I saw crowds of people being marshaled into position outside overflowing churches by hi viz wearing church officials. From the open doors came the amplified sounds of preachers getting close up and personal with the Lord.
Everywhere in town, I saw groups of people dressed in shining Sunday best. Whatever the brand of religion is down here, it is a happy one. Many of the faithful were radiant with joy and it was impossible not to be caught up in the general euphoria. That is until I took a side street and found a very different Joburg.
Strong smell of puke and wee wee, derelicts in doorways and a very heavy atmosphere. Not one to hang around in such situations, I beat a hasty retreat and found myself on a minibus rank
Joburg or Jozi, as the black South Africans call it, doesn't have a metro or even a great bus network. Instead, minibuses, in effect vans with seats, ply fixed routes but only leave when full. Used almost exclusively by blacks, the odd white face can occasionally be seen peering from the window, but these overwhelmingly belong to tourists. The fare is 9 Rand (60 cents), anywhere in the metro area.
Today, marooned in a less than salubrious part of downtown, I decided to give it a try. After a few false starts, I found the rank for buses going my way. Wedged between a bible carrying pastor and a large woman, laden down with shopping, I took a surreptitious peek at my travelling companions, to find 14 pairs of eyes fixed very firmly on me. The door slammed, we jerked into motion and the pastor told me,"open your hand." Expecting a blessing at least, I was shocked to find a stream of small coins poured into my palm. "Put in your 9 Rand and tell the driver 15", came the instruction, "but wait for the robots".
I hurriedly explained my minibus virgin status and the whole vehicle clamoured to help. I soon discovered that robots are what South Africans call traffic lights and that I had been elected honorary conductor for the journey. Everyone had advice on where to get off, how to cross the road safely and where to get a return service. I have seldom, if ever enjoyed a bus journey so much.
There is a complicated system on hand signals in use when flagging down a minibus. Forefinger up means "to town", forefinger down is "local," There are several other combinations of finger and elbow gestures, but I thought discretion the better part of valour.
Downtown Joburg has one of the highest crime rates in the world. Constant vigilance is needed during the day, even in the 'safer' areas and at night...forget it. That said, the black South Africans I have met have been charming, helpful and friendly. I am looking forward to getting out of the city, into the heartlands and meeting more of these wonderful people.
