Its a Small World After All...

Sunday was a miserable rainy cold day. My roomie and Dutchie (whose kind of my boss at the office) decided to go to Muizenberg flea market on the coast. Muizenberg is where all the cool surfer types hang out. None of the stalls we wanted to visit had turned up, there were no scarves or earrings or any such things. The gusty blustering wind blew off my little red cap which was stopping my ears from looking blue. I thought to myself...what are we doing here?

We sat in a cafe and drank coffee to warm up. We had planned the day before to go to a braai party in the township of Guguletu called Muzolis. Should we still go, no one seemed keen. We were close to abondoning the plan. The Americans were being slightly lame. Put off by the rain. The Germans were lured along with the promise of cheap juicy meat.

Our driver dropped us off outside the restaurant. You could hear the party before you could smell it. We met up with one of Dutchie's friends, her ex-PA no less, a really nice guy who showed us how it worked. It was a covered shack. It was a loud party rammed with a sea of people pulling apart charred meat with their bare hands. He found us a picnic table under the plastic cover. Showed us where to buy our 6 pack of Savannah ciders. We walked with him to the butchery where we chose our meat raw, paid for it and then took it to the smokey fires at the back to get it braaied. Even though they accidentally put my sauce on Dutchie's chicken, it was still delicious!

When I first arrived in SA I had a lot of TIA (this is Africa) moments. In the minibus, looking up at Table Mountain from the PA office, meeting people, even eating dinner with my host family. Life here has become more normal and I haven't had one for a while. But being at this braai party sent little pickles down my spine and I really felt "OK, I'm in Africa!"

The group sitting next to us were celebrating a 21st birthday party. Dancing and jiving and sharing cake. A white middle aged lady was jivvy with them, a beautiful smile stretching over her face. I thought I recognised her. Maybe she just looked like someone I knew at home. Later in the queue for the loos the same lady embraced me "How are you?". Then I realised she was the lady I had sat next to on the plane, whose daughter lived in London. She wasn't meant to be in that seat, she was meant to be in business class, but there had been a mix up. It was so nice to see her and her family and be able to say "Your country's beautiful!". Especially as I felt so wobbly coming here on the plane and she was so chatty and kind. It is in these fleeting moments of openness and connectedness with people who you essentially really don't know but feel you do that you realise that the kindness of starngers is what keeps us all glued together and that He is good.