Arrival day in Joburg – too late, too dark
First day – clear blue sky, early summer comfortable temperature; spent the entire day at a conference at a local academic institution hearing about the China-Africa relationship from many Africans. V refreshing views that one doesn’t get in Beijing – that being, the onus for addressing/resolving some of the concerns cropping up in the bilateral relationship is on the African countries, not necessarily all on China. I start to notice how there’s so much walls all around the local landscape and how offices are situated behind the walls, rather than just residential housing that one associates with such walls.
Second day – stepped into office for the first time in the afternoon. Reminds me of the old foreign correspondent days of working out of a cramped hovel littered with too much paper, coffee and newspapers. Apparently we are moving the office, but in the meantime the sole correspondent for us in Joburg – only one of just three full-time reporters we have on the entire continent – is doing his best to co-exist with the other people who are in sales and selling stuff that has nothing to do with our main news gathering content. My colleague tells me that at an older office before this one, someone got shot in the stairwell and there were a few bad incidents. The ladies room near the current office is via a stairwell and I wonder how sound proof it is from the offices and elevators. My colleague gives me a lift at the end of the day and he says Joburg is one of the ugliest cities he’s lived in – the constant need to drive is terrible. I asked my colleague if Joburg could be considered a hardship posting.
Third day – full day in the office and still trying to deal with IT problems. I found out it is walkable to the office from my hotel and I try it though not before I split my credit cards, ID and cash between my shoulder bag and my pants pocket. It’s a lovely walk and I stop at a local street stall – Lindy’s Fast Food hand painted on its front – and buy a simple egg and cheese sandwich from the three plump African matrons behind the counter frying and cooking in kerchiefs. A local comes up and gets what looks like three portions of mashed potato blobbed together with gravy, but I think the matrons tell me it is the local mealies. What I do find is I smile a lot more because the hotel staff and cabbies all smile at me and ask how am I doing – and I don’t think it is just about them being good about customer service. And of course some local shouted Ni Hao! at me.
I went to my first braai tonight. The host was an American reporter based in Joburg. He became a single dad when he adopted his son at 4 months old in Thailand. He met his partner out there too and both with the adopted son moved to Joburg together – Tommy, his Thai partner, barbequed fabulously; the son is 4 years old now. The reporter’s brother and sister-in-law (Vietnamese American) live in Houston but from a small town in New Orleans. Another couple – she Thai American (with a Mum in Las Vegas!), and he French – came with their 18-month-old daughter, while a lady came with her half-Zim son. Two African ladies also joined the party with their nearly 4 year old daughter.
So much still to absorb and tomorrow is only Day 4!