Snow Day in Small Town, SA

Waking up to a world covered in pristine white ice was a truly magical experience. The icy dusting on our little town brought with it a hamper of joy and excitement. Not only because schools and offices were all closed. Snow in South Africa is a rare occurrence, so when it happens, it's pretty much like Christmas in July. 

Cheery snowmen dressed in bright wooly scarves graced almost every garden. Parents enjoyed a day off, while children's laughter and snowflakes filled the air. This was the heaviest snowfall I've ever seen, it was more than 20cm deep. People had to shovel their way out of their driveways. Trees had fallen down due the sheer weight of the snow. Roads were closed to and out of the town, meaning that while we reveled in our snowcapped bliss, many travelers and truck drivers were stranded. A few good samaritans spent their day providing them with warm food and shelter.

These are some photos I took during the day. We drove around for a short while, but soon discovered that the roads were too slippery and treacherous. So we settled for buttered popcorn and a steaming pot of coffee in front of the fireplace instead. As gently as the snow drizzled it's magic upon us, it began to melt. By tomorrow morning all we will be left with are the sludgy remnants of an enchanting snow day that too swiftly passed.

It's Snowing!

The first Winter snow is here...and we're all pretty excited in Small Town, South Africa.

It started snowing at 9pm this evening, and after a few hours a beautiful white blanket covered our town. I braved the cold at about 23:30 and went outside to take these photos of my front garden. My cat is not at all impressed that his playground has been transformed into an icy winter wonderland.

A Small Town City Girl

Growing up in my pink little bubble in Small Town, SA, I was quite oblivious to the bigger and some what intimidating world out there. Although not technically a farm, we have the luxury of breathing in fresh, unpolluted air, live amidst green open fields, peaceful streets and picturesque mountains. The furthest you have to drive to go anywhere is 5 minutes, In fact, you could even safely walk to your destination. The only kind of traffic you'd have to worry about are the small herds of cows or goats, that harmoniously reside amongst the lush meadows and cozy residences. Everyone knows everyone in the hamlet, which can be advantageous, because theres always a helping hand literally around the corner. On the other hand, it can be slightly annoying with the entire population always knowing your every move.

City Slickers live under the misconception that we on the countryside, or 'rural areas' as it's been called, don't have basic amenities such as electricity & running water. This is far from the truth, as we have most of what they have, just on a much smaller & simpler scale. We may not be able to pop down to Woolworths Food to purchase organic strawberries, but better still, we can get it from our local grocer, newly picked from a nearby farm, and at half the price too. Another countryside component people ask me about is how we survive without any malls, cinemas and fancy restaurants. I suppose when you grow up without extravagant entertainment options, you make the best of what you have.

My school down the road, not only offered a solid, dual medium education, but also provided a social playground. Kids grow up playing outside without fancy gadgets and without shoes, riding their bikes across leafy streets, camping out on weekends & enjoying the innocence and beauty of childhood. Instead of shopping for designer clothes to wear to the movies, friends got together to play sports & boardgames, or watch DVD's & have slumber parties. It didn't matter what clothes you wore, what kind of mobile phone you owned or if you even had one, or what social background you came from. You were accepted and liked for who you are. It was a blissful, carefree life, the only one I had known...well, until I began the “Campus Girl” Chapter of my life.

Moving to The City had me wrapped up in an anxious knot, excited by relocation but also fearing the unknown. I had often made many weekend visits to the City of Gold, and vacationed at the Cape & KZN Coast, but actually living in a city left me feeling a little jellyfish out of water. My first week of orientation as a bemused Bachelor of Arts student was a complete culture shock. Verdant valleys & picket fences long forgotten, I had stepped into a concrete world of shadowing skyscrapers & reckless roadsters. Besides the smoggy air clogging up my lungs, the nightmarish traffic turned a 20 minute journey to university into an hour long, snail paced drive. The cool crowd on campus would only be friends with you if you 'fit in' to their savvy city lifestyles; wearing the right brands, cruising around in fancy cars and hanging out at the hottest venues, all armed with street conceit smart attitudes. I refused to be consumed by it all, afraid I would lose my sense of self & forget the unpretentious world I came from. I became disillusioned with the bright lights, fast lives and freeways. Far from what I had anticipated, I began to research the benefits of long distance learning.

Upon receiving the campus diary & lecture schedule, I tried to decipher the cryptic subject codes & allocated time slots. I longed for straightforward school days where your form teacher told where you had to be at what time and that ENG 154 was just English and not linguistics or lexicography. My spirits were drowned, rather than dampened when I found out, in order to receive the required credits, I needed to take up 26 modules. In One Year. I had back to back, overlapping, hour long classes in different, distant venues & adding to the stress of it all, poetry at university level made my entire Matric syllabus look like a preschool nursery rhyme. Returning my copy of Norton's Anthology, I took up Anthropology instead. It was then, I wondered whether if it was too late to take a gap year.

However, once my the first set of lectures began, a new wave of creative encouragement aerated my deflated aspirations. I was inspired by the compelling contents of my study material, knowledgeable lecturers, and even the vast, dusty lecture halls filled with students just as confused as I was. It was here that I met my kindred spirits, both also studying Journalism. Once the initial 'Hello's' and introductions were exchanged, we instantly clicked, connected by our love for all things Glamour, Cosmo, frills and thrills. They became my support system, my home away from home, ensuring that my 4 year stay in the city was an unforgettable one.

My metamorphosis from Small Town to City Girl became an amazing adventure, fulfilled by mall-hopping, class skipping, note copying, faithful friendship and of course, some studying in between.

I realised that living a city life doesn't change who you are, as I will always a small town girl at heart.

A Newsless Newspaper

In Small Town, SA, nothing noteworthy really happens. We do have occasional offenses, minor political problems and some farm related issues. When these incidents occur, you can read about it in our local newspaper. 3 weeks after it happens or, most likely, not at all. 

I recall the first thing I learnt about 'the news' in a Journalism lecture at university. That it's new, topical and based on current events that are significant to the society it is aimed at. That does not apply here in Small Town, SA. Our local and only newspaper has been running since 1903, and since then, the only thing that has changed is the introduction of colour photos. It comes out once a week, which is too often, as there is nothing relevant to fill the pages. Actually, there is, but you would probably hear about it from your next door neighbour, not your newspaper. I have no idea why they completely omit 'the news', as there is news to report on. Wherever you go, no matter how small or boring a place is, there will always be something to write about.

During the medical strikes of last year, our newspaper failed to report about the seriously ill patients that were turned away from the hospital, or the extent to which innocent people suffered. During the school strikes, there was no mention of the worried teachers, panicked parents or rebellious students. Nor the vandalism and intimidation that came with it. Two years ago, I heard over a national radio station about a major uprising against the mayor in our town. Our newspaper seemed oblivious to the riots and homes set alight. A string of violent crimes took place recently, but that too, of course was not important enough to feature in our local paper. So what then is? 

Well, each week, the front page story will almost always have something to do with the local high school. Students that did well in exams or victorious sports teams, cheerleaders, concerts or any other trivial school event. The next page will be a religious note, followed by 2 more pages of school news. Then a 'Women's Page' with copied-and-pasted health articles and really unappetizing recipes. This is followed by the last few pages, which reports on local sporting events. By sporting events, I mean school rugby and hockey matches and weekly results from the golf club. In between all the 'news', there are promotions, classifieds and adverts, which finance this publication. There are more advertorials than there are editorials.

I shudder to think that if the high school or golf club closed down, we may not have a newspaper at all. Maybe that's actually not such a bad thought. Perhaps you're wondering why I never applied to write for our paper. When I completed my Journalism degree, it was the first thing I did. However, they told me that they didn't need any 'journalists' to write for their paper, and they were doing pretty fine just as they were. At least I tried, so now I don't have to feel guilty about not informing the community every time something newsworthy does happen. That's what we have neighbours for anyway, right? To tell us about the news. Newspapers are so 1903, they have become obsolete :P

So, as this farm-town newspaper has no real use, I have decided to collect my weekly copies and turn it into something fashionable. I'm going to use the picture below as inspiration ;)

In Search of Sustenance

Besides for a starburst of sparkles in the sky, New Year's in Small Town, SA was pretty much uneventful. So, we decided to take a 50km drive and spend the day in Much Bigger Town, SA. Things there were quiet, all shops were closed and streets were empty but evident of the massive party the night before. While most revelers were re-enacting The Hangover, families picnicked in the park. I was looking forward to eating out at a fancyish restaurant, seeing that we have none in my hometown. Arriving at the empty parking lot of the designated restaurant; we found closed doors, chairs up and shutters down. It was disappointing, but we decided to try another place on the other side of town. 

As we drove up to the entrance, large letters inside read “Sorry, we're closed.” That's not a problem, we thought, we'll just drive around and find somewhere else to eat. That clearly was enough optimism for the first day of the year, it actually was a problem, because everywhere else was closed. Alright, alright, I would be lying if I said absolutely every eatery was closed. Mcdonald's was open, but no one was in a mood for an MSG overdose and a tasteless, trans fatty, super-sized slice of cholesterol. Trying to find an open restaurant on New Year's Day is like trying to find sense in a Wayan's Brothers movie. There is None. 

It was past 3pm on our hunger hunt, when we came across a small eastern restaurant. Someone in our group suggested that we try it out, just for the 'experience'. Faint and famished, we all agreed. We entered hesitantly, looking around and realising that we were a tad bit overdressed for our dark and dingy surroundings. Walls that were once cream and orange had a dusty brown tinge, burgundy chairs and plastic covered tables lined the sticky floor and all that separated us from the kitchen was a faded floral curtain. Sweltering in the 30 degree heat, I wondered how many food safety and health regulations were being violated in the dining area and kitchen. 

The menu had an identity crisis, offering traditional dishes from all over India, Pakistan and China as well as modern fast-food favourites. I chose Chinese chow mein, while everyone else settled for peri peri chicken made on an open fire outside. Maybe hunger is the best spice, as once our flavourful meal arrived, we couldn't get enough. You really can't judge a book by it's cover, or in this case, a restaurant by its dilapidated décor, as the results can turn out to be far more pleasant than you thought. The aromatic dishes were a delicious end to our good food quest and a spicy start to 2011.

A Fair To Remember

As you can imagine, the entertainment element in Small Town, SA is basically non-existent. So, when there's word of a town fair, we get pretty excited. I always imagine any fair to have lots of little stalls selling quaint crafts and collectables, homemade confectionary, carousels, freshly made pancakes, pony rides and my all time carnival classic, candy floss. It's a place where families flock to buy handmade ornaments they will never find space for, 

get a tooth ache on a toffee apple and lose their kids in the crowd. 

After actually attending the fair, I realised that I may just have an overactive imagination. Our local event involved a kilted Scotsman playing the bagpipes, some lost American tourists and a bunch of stylish Joburgers, drunk on the fresh farm air, among other things. The entire 'fair' was a single table selling overpriced gardening gear. Not a stick of candy floss in sight! Under normal circumstances, I would have been disappointed, but I figure that a country fair with 10 attendees, R700 pot plants and some bagpipes is far better than not having one at all. Here's to next years fair! It couldn't possibly get any worse, right?