Phuthu Stay Phut, Don't go!

Superjerm did a time of 7.30 hours for last weeks lonesome Big Daddy ride. And no, he didn’t have any close encounters with Black Mamba’s, nor did he experience bitterly cold weather, come across unruly locals or take any bone-breaking tumbles, instead he was hounded by, wait for it, wait for it – valley fires. Big, rip-roaring valley fires. I’m so glad he only told me about this when he arrived back home because apparently the flames were tiny – about one storey high. Yuh, teeny tiny I tell you.. And with the same nonchalant tone he used to tell me about the Black Mamba attack, he proceeded to tell me about the fires. At one point he had to wait for the teeny tiny flames to cross the road before he could carry on with his ride. Kids, please don’t try this at home. It takes a very unique combination of bravery, intelligence and psychosis and if you get the ratios wrong then you might just land up a burnt marshmallow…and nobody likes burnt marshmallows…

I love our local sense of humour. The way we are always ready to crack a joke and play a prank. I love it that some of us look great in Armani while others have the courage to wear rugby shorts.
And it’s okay.
I’m captivated by the culture overload, the untamed vibe in the air, the music and the spice.

But most of all I love the people. We are flexible and deal with whatever life dishes out. Face it, it can get rough in South Africa. But do we sue over everything, like hot, spilled coffee?
No.
There is still a sense of conviction and honesty in our people – we like to go to bed with a clear conscience; we like looking others straight in the eye. Our people are good, solid South Africans.

Man, I love this place. It’s pulsing through my blood; it’s in my make-up.

Nkosi sikelel’ iAfriKa!

A little duckling enjoys a few rays of warm winter sun in the Durban Botanical Gardens.

Photo by: Katrine Anker-Nilssen

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The object in yesterday’s Brainteaser was a beaded mug: