At the beginning of 2004, a good friend of ours, known to all as the Mule, embarked on a year studying at the University of Cape Town and generally working his way around South Africa. During his time there he kept a short diary and over the next few months he will be sharing a few experiences with us all...........so enjoy!
Chapter 1 - Finding My Feet
Landing at Cape Town International I was met by a very peculiar looking character with a seriously impressive Afro. He ushered us into his "party bus", a multi-coloured 1970's style VW Kombi taxi that definitely looked as if it had had its day. Driving down the N2 towards Cape Town he kindly informed his passengers, that comprised of seven nervous international students, that we were now on the most dangerous stretch of free way running alongside several kilometres of the infamous township, Khayelitsha. Misty told us that this sprawling mass of iron huts housed over a million people which was quite a shock to the system.
I had been told by the head of international accommodation services at the University of Cape Town that I was to be living with one guy from Canada, two girls from Norway and one from Germany. The law of averages strongly suggested that I would be in the company of at least one absolute peach!
I was dropped off in a suburb called Mowbray and introduced to my landlady, a very friendly faced, hippy looking fifty year old woman who showed me around my new house. It was a dark little semi-detached house and my room was a cold bare room with the smallest bed I’ve ever laid my eyes on – the thought of any rampaging in such a contraption seemed completely out of the question.
I then met the only person at home who introduced herself as Julia – not exactly the absolute stunner I had been imagining. She was quite a stumpy girl with thick glasses and an excruciatingly painful, high pitched German accent. She excitedly hopped around the house giving me a tour which predominantly consisted of an extremely intensive run down on the intricate workings of the alarm system and what to do in various scenarios that she had conjured up in her head. She then broke into the house rules which included leaving your own set of house keys on your own designated hook by the front door whilst in the house- apparently in order that every house member knew the whereabouts of everyone else!!
Eventually the next house mate appeared, a very happy faced, sweet looking girl with long dread locks from Norway called Elina. She was seriously amusing, laughing at anything and everything – we had an instant connection. She had been in Cape Town for one semester already and showed me the ropes including enlightening me that Mowbray was in fact one of the dodgiest suburbs!
Next on the scene, arriving a day later was Anthony, a stocky guy from Canada studying a masters course for one semester. At first he seemed on a similar wave-length and keen to explore the local nightlife. We ventured to a couple of local bars, played endless games of pool and chatted about anything from past lady situations to Canadian ice hockey. I honestly thought I had fallen on my feet and I was going to be living with an absolute legend. I’m not sure exactly what happened to our friendship, whether it was his masters course starting to get to him or the arrival of the fifth house mate.
Louise, also from Norway, had already spent a semester at UCT with Elina and Julia and was returning from a trip to Mozambique. She was quite a pretty girl, extremely confident and authoritative. With very opinionated and ultra eco-friendly views, with an extreme, feminist background, I was pretty certain that a long term relationship was not going to blossom between us!
It wasn’t long before things kicked off between Anthony and Louise. I was seriously pleased for Anthony but the novelty wore a little thin when my new companion transformed into a silent, love struck, soppy twenty-five going on forty-five year old whose only interests suddenly became reading and snuggling on the sofa with his new found love, watching some of the worst American chat shows before slipping up to bed before 9 pm. If he got very carried away he may have ventured onto the internet for a sneaky half an hour! What made things even worse was the fact that my bedroom was situated directly beneath Louise’s where they spent every night together.
Caroline, the landlady who first seemed very chilled, turned out to be a very peculiar lady, obsessed with rules and regulations. A short chat about “signing the lease and discussing a few house rules” turned into a two hour speech. She was in and out of the house at least once a day saying that she was ensuring that Constance, her maid, was doing her job correctly as a blatant disguise for having a general snoop around. She also turned out to be very sly on the financial side of things, demanding R1,880 a month for six months up front plus a deposit. Not only was I to discover that the taking of full rent was an unknown move in the South African property world as she would be making a healthy killing on the interest but also that this rent for a five bedroom house in one of the dodgiest suburbs in Cape Town was ridiculous. For this money you could be reclining in an obscene flat in Camps Bay, one of the most exclusive and luxurious locations, home to the rich and famous which overlooked the stunning Atlantic Ocean.
So all in all the Mule found himself in a house from hell. I was woken by the inbreds rising before 6 am to get ready for university where they would spend all day, every day. They would then return at 6pm armed with fresh vegetables and some vegetarian supplement that got them ridiculously excited. Louise, fresh from her chemistry laboratory would set to work on her daily cake baking whilst Louise and Anthony cuddled engrossed in the new series of Ricky Lake. Elina was by far the coolest of the household, often on weekend excursions or round at one of the many local guys that were literally besotted with her.
Travelling around was a serious mission. I had to rely on the minibus taxes, Toyotas packed to the brim with local black guys that looked at me with an astonished, confused and intrigued gaze. Despite horror stories involving muggings I had no problems at all. I just kept my wallet close and avoided speaking in a posh English voice on my mobile – that would clearly have rung alarm bells of flashing pound signs and possibly been curtains for the Mule. You would often find your head almost completely submerged between two large breasts or up against an interesting smelling armpit. This was not exactly the most luxurious method of travel but was quite an experience none the less.
Despite the characters that I lived with, I kept myself to myself just passing in and out of the house for the purpose of simply sleeping. The only time I really despised the situation was when they suggested the idea of hosting a themed party. This was quite a regular occurrence which I desperately tried to make sure that I was away for with the creation of very unlikely and elaborate excuses. When I was caught by surprise however on a few occasions, not having the heart to let them down yet again, I experienced what I wouldn’t wish upon anyone. Parties at 4 Grove Road commenced with some little Norwegian and German delicacies, usually made up of a very peculiar tasting concoction of nuts and oats, with one of their cringing “Tourist Appreciation of African Music” in the background. Then at about 6pm, the arrival of some of the most deranged individuals would begin. I would hide in my room for as long as I could without being blatantly rude. After a few deep breaths I would then throw myself into the danger zone. Making polite small talk to inbreds you have nothing in common with, apart from the fact that you are an international student at UCT, was an extremely painful process.
