GMT +2

WARNING FOR THOSE WITH SHORT ATTENTION SPANS:
I haven’t posted something in a while so the whole kit and caboodle is going up here. If you want the quick version with just the facts and not the rhetoric just read up until the red asterisks ****. For those with a bit of appreciation for banter (thanks to my blond Romanian sister for the support, you know who you are) read on! :)

Not having the time when you have the motivation or not having the motivation when you have the time is often why bloggers go AWOL every now and then. That’s my excuse anyway.

It’s been a bit of a whirlwind time since I got the call to head to Africa and it’s only now that the aforementioned two have come together.

Back tracking a little, I got an email from the office wondering if I was interested in Africa. About an hour after I sent an enthusiastic reply I got a call asking if I had my passport on me and whether I was ready to go NOW. Huh? Umm no, it’s back in Sydney and I might need to repack. So after about another hour my flights were booked to head off in about a week. Still had to get home from Maralinga.

After about 10 hours travelling the next day, starting in the back of a Fletcher and ending in a Qantas burner, I managed to get home at about 9.30pm. The decision was made to see as many people as possible before heading off this time so the entire duration of the taxi ride home was spent finding out where people were at and when they could be available.

Next few days were spent getting jabbed for all manner of nasties and a little shopping to get stuff together. Fri night was the designated ‘catch up’ night and an open invitation made to those who were interested. Managed to get most people on the list, it’s surprising how much you can get done in a few days when you put your mind to it.

Everything packed, crammed into the flying fish can of a plane for the long haul to Joburg. 14 hours have never seemed so long. Not to complain too much, but those of you who know how I like to eat, feeding me twice on a 14 hour trip with only pretzels and water in between just doesn’t cut the mustard. I ended up buying one those hideously overpriced choc macadamia boxes to see me through. What wasn’t funny was see the 2 five dollar notes in my wallet for a $20 item. Fantastic plastic to the rescue again.

Looking out the window from the plane at the airport only to see brown grass and red dirt, I thought we might have landed back in central QLD. But no, 14 hours 30 mins had passed and I was the mother country of the Springbok.
Standing in line waiting for immigration was my first taste of ‘Africa time’. What I found rather amusing was the ‘If you have a complaint please refer to the relevant department’ sign next to the ‘Welcome to Johannesburg immigration’ sign. No mention of who the relevant department was but at least they were thoughtful enough to acknowledge those with lesser patience.
Not so amusing was the 1 hour wait to move 20 places in the queue. And that was the locals line that I had some how found myself in.

Meeting me at the airport was my soon to be pilot/guide/bunk buddy Rohan. I had sent an email earlier telling him to look out for the 6’1” Asian guy wearing a drover hats and seeing as they were in reasonably short supply on that flight, he found me without too much trouble.
Driving the quarter hour to our hotel in Centurion I saw the odd scrub fire along the median strip. I could only guess the locals were either a) attempting to flush out would be car jackers b) trying to stay warm or c) cooking their dinner. Still have no idea why you would light a fire in the middle of a dual carriage four lane highway.

Pulling up at the swanky Protea Hotel I was really starting to like what was ahead despite the pictures of the DRC I had in my head. Actually I should just mention here that the plan was to only spend about a week in Centurion before heading off to the Democratic Republic of Congo. That’s where the real work is and my to be home for the next month or so. In any case I had a great pizza for dinner by the natural/man made lake that edges up to the hotel and neighbouring shopping mall before crashing to bed.

For very similar reasons to the Malaysians and Singaporeans, it seems the locals here love their shopping and their shopping malls. I guess it really stems from the need to have somewhere to hang out and play. Considering the average house has a 7 foot wall topped with razor wire around it, you can understand why there aren’t too many parks or places outside to mingle and congregate.
One thing that did catch me by surprise was how well everyone was dressed around here. Well the one’s with money anyway. No such thing as a general no name clothing shop, everything here has a brand of some kind. Even the ‘Discount Clothing’ warehouse is filled with cheap branded American labels. I was actually thinking of a new pair jeans. I haven’t worn them for years and considering they cost upwards of AUD$60 at home I never found the need strong enough. Well when they cost about AUD$10 a pair here, and with more choices of cut and length than you could poke a roll of boer worse at, I bought a few.
Now to be completely politically incorrect here (well it is my blog) the local Afrikaans women here are really gorgeous. Must be the Dutch and European heritage but the concentration of good looking chicks here fair out weighs what you get in Sydney. The only thing is that they could smile a bit more because they look even better when they do. I guess when you consider the history and the current climate around here you can understand why they’re not jumping out of their skins to each new day. I’ve got a more social commentary later on but for the sake of brevity I’ll continue with what else has happened.

The next couple of days entailed running around meeting the local African office support team (sum total 2 people) and checking on the plane etc. One of the ladies is the logistics manager and very much a mother goose type personality. A true Afrikaan through and through but she would do anything for us guys here in the field. A really beautiful and lovely person. The other lady, well she’s the helper around the office, blonde in the same way Jessica Simpson is an academic but also very nice as well. Did manage a bit more shopping to keep me occupied in the DRC. One thing that is rather expensive here are books and magazines. About 10-50% more in fact. But if it keeps off the boredom… Oh and a new guitar. Yes, yes didn’t I just buy one in Mt Isa? I really like that one so it’s sitting at home lest it get stolen or shot. I found a music shop here and got an entry level Cort for a couple of hundred bucks which as cheap as they get. But it’s actually a lot nicer than I thought and I might bring it back with me. Original plan was to just leave it at the office here when I take a break and pick it back up again when I’m back on shift. We’ll see.

Which leads me to where I sit now. Punching out prose and verse (lol yeah right) to those who care to read. It’s still damn cold here, I’m shivering slightly but I can’t tell whether that’s the cold or the coffees I’ve put through my kidneys. Once the sun gets low it’s time to move indoors or pull out the down jacket and beanie which fortunately I did pack.
I’ve been here 5 days longer than expected and probably another 5 more as one of the instruments on the plane is buggered (3 times over actually) and we’ve got no idea where or when we’re getting another. Such is the fickleness of aviation.
No complaints though, I could be waiting in far worse places, like the DRC ……

****

Well that’s the usual bit of where is Mr Lee and wtf is he doing. Time to peel a few layers.

I’ve always maintained that the spirit of a place grows from the influences and attitudes of the people that fill it. The buildings, the surrounds, the environment are only a reflection of that. Seeing how people interact with each other, with their surrounds and to outsiders is what makes travel interesting to me.
Beyond that, trying to understand how those ideas and actions come about in the first place and finally where I would fit in and how I would be were I to live there gives a bit more meaning to a trip rather than the usual stop, snap and go.
I’m in a fortunate position that the places I visit I do get to see what it is like to live and work there, even in a limited capacity. It really makes me appreciates what I do for a living and gives some meaning to what I do.

In the time I was working around Australia however brief I realized a few things.
Australia’s a big place but at the end of the day an Aussie is an Aussie not matter where you go. Despite doing things in different ways, we mostly chase the same things, live our lifestyle in the same laid back way. Our attitude is our identity and it’s something a) I really like and appreciate and b) is something that is very ingrained in how I see and live my life. I’ve discovered I really like being an Aussie for what it’s worth and while it’s not about flag waving and anthem singing, being proud of the influences that drive you through the day is a fulfilling thought.
I think most of my whinging and complaining about Sydney is that the people there have lost a little of that open, easy going and optimistic mindset that you find in smaller places around Oz. Getting away from that and seeing that there were still plenty of people with my same mindset was a great thing. While I wouldn’t like to be away from Sydney forever, I don’t think only living there forever would be a great thing either.

Now over here in South Africa I’ve made a few mental notes on the people here. First a bit of scene setting and background.

Most people would know of the history of apartheid in South Africa (if you haven’t just Google it) and divisions between blacks and whites. It’s recent enough in history that there are a lot of people especially in the baby boomer and generation X ages that remember what it was like to have full control and power of the blacks in their country and are a little resentful of what it is like now. The whites here still control the vast majority of the economic wealth despite being only a 10%-20% population minority.
In recent years there is a swing towards shifting this balance and it’s reflected in business and criminal laws. There are two examples I’ve seen here, firstly, every business has to employ a certain number of blacks versus their white workers. It’s actually quite a strict law and it’s quite common to see the black South Africans as the majority of front line customer service staff while the whites still hold greater positions of authority and power as managers and owners.
The second example is of a black South African man that killed a person trying to rob him of his mobile phone. Although I don’t know the full details, the reason he made the news was that he had been found not guilty of murder, was released and had just been re-arrested for another robbery. I’ve been told if a white man were to kill a black man here, the consequences would be very dire indeed.
There are rumours that things may be headed the way of Zimbabwe and the laws they have there.

Understand I’m not making a judgement of what is right or wrong or what should or should not be, it’s just to give you an idea the circumstances that surround the people here and how it could influence the way they interact.
So the divisions are still quite clear, particularly in the cities with most of the animosity coming from the white Afrikaans.
Having said that, most of the black population here are honest hard working people who are trying to earn their living just like rest of us. There is no social security here and at most intersections you’ll find a dozen or so guys with their finger in the air hoping to pick up a days work so they can get by. They do look after themselves as well in that they are clean and don’t smell. They’re clothes might have more holes than a particular Australian Labour politician’s IR laws but they are clean and ready to work. And I’m really going to throw the cat in here and quote a fellow Aussie I met “every time I hear the Afrikaans complain about the blacks here, I say to them, ‘I’ll swap your black for our blacks any day of the week”. I don't mean to offend anyone with that, it's just a comment on the differences between the indigenous cultures.

So where does that leave an Aussie Asian brother who cusses and drinks with the best of them? Actually, I’ve been reasonably well received here. I do get the occasional odd look from the Afrikaans but nothing more than ‘I don’t see many of your kind here’. Once I start talking and especially when I mention I’m an Aussie the attitude is as welcoming as it will get.
Back in the days of apartheid, Asians, Indians and Middle Easterners were classed as ‘coloured’. They didn’t get full rights but weren’t as marginalised as the blacks.

So really it’s the same story as most Asians in the Western world, they’re not openly welcomed, but not completely disliked either. More indifferent than anything. Argue with me if you want, but that’s what I’ve been seeing and experiencing my whole life.

Not that it bothers me much. I get the odd moment where I know things would work so much better if I were blond haired and blue eyed, but then there are moments where I’m very glad I am the way I am. Focusing on confusing the hell out of people who try and pigeon hole me by my appearance is a favourite past time and provides endless enjoyment. Nothing beats the look of shock and confusion on someone’s face when you quietly walk up to them and then belt out a ‘Gday how you goin cobber?’’
And you know what, the people who manage to get past that and really connect, are the type of people I want to get to know anyway.
I’m not very likely to be surrounded by superficial people who just love me for my rugged good looks and I’m very happy about that. :P

Well that’s about as much as I can ponder for the day. The staff in the café are probably wondering how the heck I have so much to write. Probably you are too. :) So off to upload all this to the site and unload some tea. More to come later.