Saturday, March 12, 2011

Lost and Found

This week I lost a bracelet that AA bought me when we first arrived and that I was very attached to. On Tuesday, in an attempt to retrace my steps and find it, I walked back to Oude Molen eco village café to search where I had been sitting the day before. Just before the cafe I saw that someone in the Eco Village had flung all their belongings outside their house (which was actually more like a long barn) along with a hand painted sign saying ‘’Brik ‘n’ Brak’’. I cannot resist impromptu stalls and it was almost as if they had set a trap specifically for me. I steered The Ginger Prince in and rifled through all the items. I was more excited than TGP who thought we were going to see some horses and then had somehow ended up shopping. He kept looking up at me saying ‘’Neigh? Neigh?’’, but I pretended I didn’t know what he meant.
The mild mannered and eccentric father and son team who were selling up convinced me that they were African Art connoisseurs  and kept throwing things into the conversation like ‘’this used to hang in my gallery in town’’ and ‘’this is a very special piece’’. The prices varied hugely and it was a little like a mini-Ikea (complete with corrugated roof) in that you convinced yourself that because the little vases and things were a real bargain everything else was as well. I bought one small thing and carried on to the café (and the Neighs) where I looked for my bracelet with no success. As I sat drinking my coffee I thought about the great big African mask that had dominated a whole corner of the house sale and that I had dismissed as too expensive for brik ‘n’ brak. When I eventually winkled TGP away from the pigs and horses and dogs I went back for another look.
 There she was sitting on a chair in the corner, as huge, dramatic and unexpected as the first time. The son hopped over on his crutches and brought her out to show me. Having had the experience many times before (notably in Marrakesh) of buying some artefact that looses all its other-worldy charm the minute you get it home I was a little cautious. But it was just so hard to resist the idea that I had come by something so unusual in such an unlikely setting, it seemed almost like destiny. The father then came over telling me a story about where it came from (which I have now mostly forgotten) and both father and son insisted together that I had a real eye for African Masks and African Art in general ‘’Really?’’ I said ‘’ I don’t think I do, do you think so? I don’t know anything about this type of thing!’’. ‘’Yes’’ they agreed ‘’you definitely have an eye’’. And the more they said it the more of their things I picked up to buy.
Still unsure about the mask I called AA at work and there followed a miscommunication about the price (that he still thinks was deliberate) and he thought I was quoting him Rand rather than Pounds and so thought it cost £12.50 rather than £120. This type of thing happens a lot. ‘’Definitely’’ he said ‘’Go for it, if you like it’’ so I gave them £100 for it and picked up a couple of other little nik naks on the way. Father and son loved me so, so much. The son took me through to the back of their house/ shop/ barn to show me some of his more expensive pieces during which I also met his mother who was lying on a day bed waving away flies and watching television amongst an endless array of paintings and wall hangings. He then looked out the phone number of a real-estate friend of his in case I ever wanted to buy a house, obviously wanting to share my gullible nature about. Meanwhile the father plunged the enormous mask into a plastic bag (which detracted from its charm a little) along with my other purchases and I hung them all off the back of the buggy and clattered off on the 45 minute walk home completely weighed down by things I didn’t need.
Arriving home I arranged the mask beautifully on our formica dressing table, where she looked even more imposing (and possibly ridiculous) all the while convincing myself that AA would be smitten when he got home from work. And he was certainly shocked, particularly after the £100/£10 issue was cleared up. AA claims not to be superstitious at all but I think he found her presence in our home a bit unnerving and he wrestled her carefully into a cupboard ‘’for the time being’’. He was, all the while, making an effort not to touch her too much as he said it gave him Anthrax just looking at her since the back of her head is made of soft, very old, leather.
 She is an original South African Ceremonial Mask  and I have taken a photo of myself wearing it, just for effect (see photo below). I will never, never, ever be putting her on again as it was heavy and felt wrong. One day, when no longer living in rented accommodation and when we have a wall big enough to show her off (possibly not our little flat in Edinburgh), we will be mounting her on a stand and there she will stay and when we die she can be the thing that our offspring (TGP) can dread inheriting. I always wanted one of those things.


Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Pesky Paperwork and a New Home

Today it is 35 degrees, and officially too damn hot for ginger babies (and their mothers). Those who can have headed for the beach but we are again in car limbo, waiting on the car we have just bought, a very sensible Automatic Toyota, bought in pounds from a fellow Brit moving home.
     Stripping our direct debits back to the very, very bare minimum before we left was liberating but we are now in the process of slowly building them back up again over here. £175 a month insurance for hospital visits only will certainly make you appreciate the NHS. If we need to see a specialist or a GP outside of hospital we will still have to pay for it. Nor is banking free here. Our basic account is £10 per month, with a limit on transactions, so instead of paying for most things on card we get large sums of cash out of the bank. Council tax and utilities, however, are so little you don’t even notice them so I suppose it will all even out. 
We are also waiting to move into the rental house we have chosen. The house may not be as sensible as the car, but it has a whole lot more character. It is five minutes from the beach in the leafy and colonial heritage quarter of Muizenberg; a handful of hidden back streets full of second hand book shops and galleries and artist studios. The owners are a retired Dutch couple who live in Holland and winter here so the place is only available until December. 
There is a large veranda (or Stoep) to the front and a sunny little yard to the back with a covered Braai area. It is into this covered area that I will be popping the broken sofa that has been shipped all the way from Edinburgh, for the Ginger Prince to play on by day and a gift to neighbourhood stray cats by night. The place is entirely furnished and where our other 35 crates of nonsense are going to go is a different matter. Strange to think that when we packed up months ago in snowy Scotland we thought we couldn’t live without this stuff and actually haven’t missed it in the months we have been living with only what we had in our suitcases. With the exception of some things, particularly TGP’s toys.
Although not entirely child friendly and lacking a washing machine (!) the area has a great hippy, Boho feel. I have been exploring the hippy side of Cape Town more and more recently. Every week there is an outdoor market of some kind, selling farm produce and home made gifts. And Oude Molen is a great little Eco Village and stable that TGP loves because of its interactive farm. http://www.mothercityliving.co.za/oude-molen-eco-village-pinelands/
Our new neighbour-to-be is a local artist who makes sculptures out of things he has found on the beach. His house is bedecked with all manner of everything. See picture below.
I am hoping this will cheer me up when I’m dragging TGP to the launderette twice a week.