2009/05/22
DAY 20: MEET RENAULT BROWN
This is my ride. I can't really explain why I bought her, I guess I felt sorry for her, sitting there in that ugly yard like a chained up puppy. She was also very cheap and The Father assured me he could fix her up. She's given me a few headaches over the past couple of weeks but I think we've reached an understanding... and I've noticed that other drivers keep a wide girth of us because she looks like trouble and I probably drive like a dickhead.
2009/05/21
DAY 11: HELLO TBWA\HUNT\LASCARIS\DURBAN
Ahh. Nothing like the first day on the job. I get flounced around the agency, being introduced to people who's names I won't remember for the next 365 days. This place is going to take some getting used to. Perhaps a wrecking ball and Cousin Matt, The Decorator can help.
DAY6: HELLO. I'M RACHEL, YOUR DAUGHTER.
I see The Father for the first time in 15 years. He comes to fetch me from The House That Nearly Was in order to take me car searching/shopping. He's chubbier than I remember and he's dyed his hair this sandy/auburn colour that doesn't quite hide the fact that he's gone completely grey. I can see he's dressed up for the occasion, sporting a new, crisp, checkered shirt, and the pony tail is gone. (I had a long paragraph about the pony tail here but then realised it wouldn't be fair to judge as it was the early 90's at the time...) The initial reunion is as I expected it would be, forced and strained. There is too much unsaid stuff between us for it to have been a joyous moment. The car ride to Pinetown (apparently second-hand car Mecca) is spent listening to him complain about his new Thai wife. I kept thinking to myself how it must feel for him to have me suddenly turn up in his life like this. One image came to mind:
I think it's fair to say that a few others in Durbs are probably feeling the same way about my arrival.
DAY4: THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT: BUNNY CHOW AND A TATTOO, ANYONE?
Watching my boxes stacked up in the living room, laughing at me, taunting me with the fact that they won't be unpacked for another 30 days, I go into panic mode and decide that a walk around my new neighbourhood would probably do me some good. I soon find a corner cafe and buy my first official Durban Bunny Chow and have my first conversation with a real Indian person. As I'm paying for my Bunny, I notice a tattoo parlour across the road. Without really thinking, I cross the road Bunny in hand, and demand a tattoo. Twenty minutes later I walk out with another star on my wrist, a bravery badge to mark new beginnings, change and hopefully some growth. I feel a lot better and trek home to unpack my clothes, make my bed and shuffle it around my new bedroom.
This is The House That Nearly Was. I have utilised my AWESOME Photoshopping abilities to add in some furniture and stuff to make it feel more homely because neither Kak Van Rooyen or I really own anything.
DAY 3: WELCOME TO YOUR NEW HOME, NOW PLEASE FUCK OFF.
Meet my housemate, *Kak Van Rooyen. Coming from Pretoria, I suspect he arr wiff arr not ables to uses the internetns wiff arr emails arr wiff telecomunications. As my last box was being moved into my new home he wiff arrs me that I's arr havings to be movings out by the endings of the months because the huisie arr wiff sold. Thanks for letting me know a few days in advance so I could put all my stuff into storage, Kak Van Rooyen. You arr kak.
*name and face has been changed as to not hurt his feelings.
2009/05/20
DAY 1: WOULD YOU LIKE SOME ARSE IN YOUR WINE?
"No thank you, Richard's Mom. I would not like some of
your arse in my wine. Oooh, you mean ICE. Ok then."
English speaking Durbanites enjoy turning vowels into other vowels, take the very important ‘i’ for example. It has completely vanished from their dialect and has been replaced by a very lazy ‘a’ or an even lazier ‘u.’ So going for an ‘arsecream’ apparently does not mean taking a trip down to the local Dischem for a tube of Hemroid-Be-Gone. Phew. Thank goodness. Below is a list I have compiled for those ‘voweletically challenged’ peeps out there who can’t understand a bloomin’ word these ‘Durbanaats’ are saying:
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