My lucky escape!

I have realised that my blog has been ever so serious and even a bit depressing for you lovely readers, and that perhaps it is painting my life here as also very serious and depressing! When it is really not at all! I am going to recall some of the characters I have met here and an amusing incident I managed to get myself into...

Last week an English volunteer arrived who has been volunteering in India, in HIV hospices, for 7 years. Her name is Shelia, she’s around 65 but is so full of life, adventurous and determined you’d never guess! She worked in Waitrose for 20 years and when she retired, decided she would take the opportunity to travel and also finally live her dream of nursing people. India have recently changed the rules on Visas and now you have to leave the country for 2 months before you can apply for a new one [which takes a week to get]. So Shelia decided to work in another country for 9 weeks and found a place at the ARV clinic which is just behind St Anthony’s. As the nuns didn’t feel a person who was not a practicing Catholic could cope with life in the convent and all the prayers and routine, they asked permission for her to stay up here with me instead. It is nice to have the company but I must be honest, communication beforehand was not good so I was told to expect an Indian girl in her 20s...not an English pensioner! But oh well, it’s company all the same!

Shelia is fiercely independent and from the minute she arrived has been expressing her frustration at the fact she is not in a country with good public transport and is also living in an area where it is not safe to even walk to the top of the street. Even for black people here, there is so much crime in the area that you cannot safely walk up the road without the fear of being challenged for your money or phone. Shelia was used to driving round India [near Bangalore] on her scooter and living in her own flat in a completely non-white area. She feels like she is caged in here, describing it as a prison! Though I know it can be tough I have never really resented the fact at all, that I can’t go outside the gates. I just accept it, even though I too am used to lots of freedom and walking where I like, even at night, in the UK. I was a bit taken aback at Shelia’s reaction, even after 5min she was frustrated, it’s not like she’d been here a week and not gone out!

But anyway, we have booked her an organised holiday with a company, to go all round SA and see the sites she had been hoping to visit. Only problem is...she didn’t read the small print and it turns out it was cheap for a reason. It’s a camping trip! They have to pitch their tents every night, build fires and cook their own meals, working from a rota. I hope she can cope with it! I don’t think I could, and I’m 40 years younger!

Anyway, two nights ago I had to go out at 6pm and fill up the car with petrol as the fuel prices were due to go up the next day. I took Shelia with me so she could have an outing and also stock up on food and airtime at the supermarket in town. We were heading back at about 8pm and i was already pitch black on the roads, but it wasn’t too busy so it was ok. In the daytime the roads are heaving and taxi drivers speed down the middle of the road, overtaking incessantly [and the next minute perform an emergency stop in front of you to offload a passenger] so you really have to keep your wits about you. But now it was quiet and we were chatting away, I was laughing at one of Shelia’s tales from her travels. The next thing I knew there was a man standing in the middle of my lane, wearing a fluorescent orange coat and shining a torch to signal me to pull over. ‘O shit’ [excuse my language!], I said as I realised it was a traffic cop with a speed trap and I had just entered the 60kmph zone, still doing around 80kmph. I was annoyed, it was such bad luck, especially as I had a big 4x4 right on my bumper trying to overtake for a km which was probably what had made me keep my speed up. And he ofcourse, got away scott free!!

I put the handbrake on and rolled down my window, feeling sick to the pit of my stomach and wanting to cry, to be honest! The traffic cop greeted us with ‘good evening ladies’ but then ‘what were you thinking going so fast!? This is going to be an expensive conversation for you now!’ I was pretty gobsmacked and didn’t know what to say so just sat there. Then he reached in and patted my chest saying, ‘what is this? Your heart is beating like crazy! You don’t need to be scared!’ It was a bit creepy now I look back but at the time I was beginning to feel relieved as I thought, I think we might be able to get out of this one!

Shelia came to my rescue saying, ‘sorry officer, it was my fault, we were talking and lost track of the speed limit’. He asked for my drivers’ licence and I handed it over, explaining that it was an overseas one and had an international counterpart. Once he heard that, realised we were from the mythical land of ‘overseas’ I knew we would be ok! He addressed me as Rebecca and it gave me confidence to start chatting to him. I told him we were both volunteers, living at St. Anthony’s children’s home. He knew the place because he said he was schooling at St Lewis. That helped the flow of the conversation as I told him I also worked there too, teaching English, and he began to talk about the Sisters who used to run the place. Within a couple of minutes he was asking for my hand in marriage and my reply ‘what Lobola are you offering?’ seemed to please him as it showed I knew some Zulu [Lobola is the amount of cows [or money] the groom's family has to pay for the bride]. By the time it came to drive off he was saying ‘thank you so much, I’m so happy to have met you. Keep your doors and windows locked and don’t stop for anyone.’ ‘Not even for traffic cops?’ I tried to joke, ‘No of course you stop for us, you are safe with us!’ was his reply as he waved us off!

Me and Shelia rolled up the windows and burst into hysterics at our encounter! We felt so chuffed that we had, seemingly, talked our way out of a R400 speeding ticket and had even made a friend out of it! We were wise after the event, both saying, ‘I knew he wouldn’t fine us’. But at the time I was sure he would have to, even if he had a chat as well!

I got back and went straight to the boys’ cottage to relate the tale to Mlondi and Kaye, the careworkers there. I certainly exaggerated my role in talking us out of the fine, but then, why not? Anyone would! I certainly felt like I had won him round with my English accent and fancy pink drivers’ licence, haha! But getting back on the road today, I was extra vigilant and stuck to the limits all the way! I certainly don’t want to see if I can pull off that lucky trick again!!