Nine years in Australia

Jethro's take on his mummy: he took this 28th October 2013

Nine years ago, to the day, I arrived in Australia. It was a profound feeling. I was 41, and my life was starting over.

I remember Francis meeting me at the airport and feeling particularly awkward. I remember thinking that nothing could make him understand what was going on inside me, and that I wasn't going to try to explain. I was just going to get on with it.

I noticed that so many people leaving South Africa were running from something, and I wasn't. I was going TO something. I was going to a new life with a man I had met in Spain, learning Spanish. I was seriously starting again. Life was changing:
- from being single to being part of a couple
- from being well known to completely unknown.
 - from a life of dance and consulting to a life of little dance and no permission to work.
 - from years of experience to not being recognised for any experience.

I had left my home with four bedrooms plus a flat for a shared room in a shared unit. I had left being a landlady for being a partner of a renter. I had left a huge circle of family and friends and colleagues for a country where I knew one person well, two more people quite well, and about ten people vaguely. I had left the mountain and sea for the suburbs.
Instead of a house filled with belongings I had just one suitcase with my clothes and my cutlery (!). Instead of a car I was on foot.

Yes this was still 34 degrees South. Just not Cape Town. It was Sydney.

Some of this was apparent on the first day, and some only became apparent over time. Slowly but surely it sank in that I'd really taken this enormous step at 41. It was my sister-in-law's birthday and I wasn't there to celebrate it. Today, nine years later, it's her birthday again and I'm not there to celebrate it. But I am celebrating, instead, a nine-year journey to date.

I woke this morning thinking about the highlight of each year:
2004: Discovering the tango, flamenco, latino dance and music scene in Sydney and my first New Year's Eve fireworks over the Bridge and Opera House
2005:  A five day trip, alone and camping, to the heart-stopping beauty of New Zealand's South Island; buying our home in Heighway Avenue in Ashfield and joining Sing Australia
2006: Our wedding; visitors throughout that year from South Africa
2007: Being allowed to work. Restarting Making Things Work. Dancing Tango at Darling Harbour. 
2008: Magical trip to Europe with Francis
2009: Jethro was born. Becoming a mum at 46. Starting to work with social enterprises in earnest.
2010: Jethro's baby naming ceremony. Becoming an Ausralian Citizen. Taking Jethro to South Africa to meet the family.
2011: Marjorie's visit to Sydney; An African drumming course
2012: Moving to Oatley to the green and the blue of nature once again
2013: Marjorie in Sydney again. Embarking on the Key Person of Influence course and restarting my work as Beyond Win-Win.

And then, of course, there have been the annual highlights - Jewish high festivals on the North Short and the Eastern Suburbs, re-acquainting with cousins I knew as a child in South Africa, annual Christmas celebrations (the street party in Heighway Avenue, the Mother's Group party and the Chilean-Iranian-South African-Australian party each year), Chinese New Year and all the diversity type celebrations in Sydney. And lots, lots more.

Today I am celebrating a long journey that, in the scheme of things, is only just starting. It's amazing, though, that I've lived in Australian almost one fifth of my life. Just one more year and it will be a decade. Hah.

 

 

 

 

10 things you need to know if you move from Cape Town to Sydney

 Sydney is a pretty city, with the best food in the world from many nationalities. People live at peace with one another, even though they often stick to those they know and are not that welcoming of outsiders. You'll be safe here, but you have to work hard to fit in. Even though both cities are 34 degrees south, they are quite different. A bit of local knowledge might help. 

1. There is no mountain
And with that, no way of knowing which way you are facing. Amazing what you can discern from shadows if you work hard at it. You need to work out what season you are in, take into account the time of day, and then vaguely work out if the sun is north east or north west. It's not Table Mountain, but it works.

2. Flies like the inside of your mouth
Not only does Cape Town have very few flies, when they do appear, they like food. Not Sydney flies. They like the inside of your mouth. I know because I have eaten a fair few. Not on purpose, of course. What's good to know is that the Sydney flies are sluggish. My brother (yes, the famous Zapiro), used to pride himself in being the only person who could catch a fly on our kitchen table by grabbing it from behind. I kid you not. Sydney flies - hey - they move so slowly you hardly have to work to squash them. Go right ahead, I say.

3. Don't say "it was a thumbsuck"
In Cape Town if you are estimating something, it's a thumbsuck. You put your thumb in your mouth, pull it out quickly, make a popping noise and everyone knows you just guestimated the answer. Here, there's a strange look of disgust that crosses people's faces when you do that. I won't go into it. Just don't do it.

4. Don't say "holding thumbs"
Refer to number 3 above. I don't have to go into detail, but the same look crosses Sydneysiders' faces when you say "hold thumbs for me". In Cape Town, it means the same as "cross fingers" for me. Believe me - just ask people to cross fingers. You'll have a far better response!

5. Save hard to use public transport
Because the Rand is so abysmal next to the Aussie Dollar, there have to be some money tips in a blogpost like this. There's nothing more demoralising realising that your whole week's budget has been used on public transport. It's expensive in Sydney. I mean really expensive. In 2013 it costs $10 (or R100) to get a return to the city at peak times. Travel after 9am. Buy travel tens when you can (busses, ferries). And get an Opal Card as soon as you can. They are being phased in - but where you have occasion to be somewhere for less than an hour you are charged only one leg of a return journey. You can, for instance, travel to Town Hall, have a 50 minute meeting, and get back on the return train and you'll only be charged one way. In some cities there are free busses. Use them. Better still, walk.

6. Most great performers at festivals also have a free performances
Check it out. It's worthwhile. People pay $100's of dollars to see great performers (that's 1000's of Rands) when you can often catch them in free venues. Do your research

7. Check out and compare mobile plans
Talk about doing your research - work hard at finding a mobile plan that offers unlimited text and voice calls and a lot of data. It's the best investment you'll make. You can find all the cheap deals - and there are cheap deals for everything (almost).

8. Use 131500
This is a great get-everywhere-planner. You can dial it and speak to a real person or you can go to www.131500.com.au and feel completely cool about finding your way to anywhere. Times, modes of transport - it's all there.

9. Don't be demanding
South African have a reputation in Sydney for being incredibly pushy, entitled and just plain rude. There's a reason for this. We are. As a rule. We are too direct for most people living in Sydney. We are spoilt either because we were privileged in South Africa and have learnt to expect people to be there for our every whim, or we are demanding because we weren't privileged but we know what it is to have to ask for things to happen. By all means stick to your guns when expecting good service (not a high point in Sydney) or expecting people to be welcoming or whatever other reasonable expectation you have. But watch your body language and your way of speaking to people - there is a very strong "entitled-South-African-detector" in many Sydneysiders. The most frequent back-handed compliment I have received in Australia is "You're South African - and you're nice? How come?"

10. Hang out at the Opera House and surrounds
Sydney is known as being "up itself" - that's Australian for being too big for it's boots - in many ways. But the Opera House, and the harbour - they are just magic. Hang around at dawn, hang around in the middle of the day, hang around at night. Enjoy the Botanic Gardens and the fruit bats. Enjoy the fantastic walls that are shaped as benches. They're made to enjoy so enjoy them.  Specially at the Opera Bar. Yes, a drink could cost the same as a day's earnings - but hey - you only live once. And you can always consider how crazy some people are that they are paying $1000 for a bottle of bubbly - yep, that's R10,000 and enough to feed a village in Africa for a very, very long time. Yes, the contrast is crazy. It's First World, Third World stuff. And it never goes away (why do you think I work with social enterprise and creating beyond win-win solutions... that's another story).

Oh, and one more thing. People who live in Sydney are called Sydneysiders. Just good to know.

Uber-optimism for South Africa

As Marianne Thamm points out in her article "The feelgood factor need not be confined to soccer", South Africa is in a very proud place - filled with joy, celebration and excitement. I hear it from all my friends over the phone, on twitter, on facebook. I see it on television. And for me, after more than 15 years of working in crime prevention in South Africa, I am absolutely thrilled that it is, indeed, possible to break the chains crime and fear.

Marianne says:

We've learned that with enough political will and police the justice system can, in record time, make life uncomfortable for criminals.

I remember once returning from a trip to Johannesburg and touching down on the Cape Town airstrip with a sense of relief. I remember feeling that Cape Town just didn't have the paranoia I had experienced in Gauteng, particularly in Johannesburg. I remember wondering if there could be some way that we could just choose, from one day to the next, to no longer have the crime scurge eat away at every South African's safety and security. I wondered if large scale community programmes could make crime just, ummm, go away! The poorest of the poor were suffering the most, even though the media was all about the privileged whose lifestyles were affected by crime. I saw, first-hand, how desperate people were in the townships. I saw how desperate young men in prison were. I saw how freaked out victims of crime were. And I wanted it to just stop. Sommer (as we say in South Africa - the word means just so or just because.... it's hard to translate. Sommer is sommer).

At the time I was the national director of fundraising, marketing and media at NICRO (national institute for crime prevention and reintegration of offenders). We were trying to turn the tide of crime - we wanted to stop turning our homes into prisons and prisons in to homes. The organisation was involved with programmes for offenders, ex-offenders, juvenile offenders, victims of crime and also with those who wanted to start economic projects through the economic opportunities programme. There were 100,000 clients and 240 staff. Many, many people's lives were affected by the work of NICRO staff throughout the country. I was coordinating a national campaign called Whistle Week which was to "blow the whistle against crime". I saw how people on the ground wanted to express their need to end crime in their communities. And I believed that there was a lot happening to find solutions to crime.

I understood all the underlying reasons for the crime and violence levels, but that day when I landed in Cape Town I was accessing a kind of uber-optimism. Today, when I read Marianne's article, I had the same kind of optimism. Today I am hoping against hope that South Africa can find a peaceful place to be when the World Cup is over. I am hoping that the last few weeks and the next few days can sprinkle magic dust on the country I still love so dearly, and offer peace and prosperity way into the future.

Viva, South Africa, Viva. Viva the World Cup 2010, Viva!

Photo in Hermanus, South Africa. Francis and Jethro in the run-up to the World Cup 2010

Tonight I am truly proud to be South African. Almost as proud as I was the day Nelson Mandela was released from prison, or the day he was sworn in as the first President of the new Democratic South Africa. Or the day I got to meet him.

Tonight I am truly proud to be South African because all the things I value in South Africa are on show to the world. The innovation, the resourcefulness, the Can-Do attitude, the music and dance and the exuberance. Tonight I, like millions of others around the world, will be watching the opening of the Fifa World Cup 2010 in Johannesburg. I expect huge excitement in the crowd. I expect huge nervousness about possible criminal moments. I expect a huge police presence. I expect absolute elation from the people who are actually there at this historic moment. But most of all I expect South Africa to pull it off. South Africans have a way of just doing that.

No thanks, I might add, to the current President who was a disastrous choice, in my opinion, and who continues to fluff it at every opportunity. But, true to reputation, South African has managed the enormous task of preparation for the World Cup "in spite of". In spite of huge challenges, and in spite of a dearth of strong leadership.

When we were in South Africa a few weeks ago we were astounded by the construction taking place - not only the incredible six stadiums that had been built, but the huge changes to roads and infrastructure. Some of the key roads in Cape Town were having a complete revamp, and yet the planners had managed to keep traffic flowing throughout the course of the changes.

I have said it before, and I'll say it again. I miss Cape Town in the same way as I would miss a very dear ex-lover. It has been said that "we never stop silently loving those we once loved out loud" (Oriah Mountain Dreamer). How true for me of Cape Town. That mountain, those seas, those people, that energy. But I am here, now, in Sydney and not far from obtaining my Aussie Citizenship. And so a new chapter is starting for me - being proud to be a Sydneysider - almost as proud as I was to be a South African. And to represent that I will hold dual citizenship. With pride, and with deep gratefulness.

And in all that, I will continue to love my three cities at 34 degress south: Buenos Aires (City of Tango and the Paris of the South), my adopted city of Sydney (the Serotonin city) and my city of origin, Cape Town (the Mother City). How better  to celebrate my love of all three cities than to be in Sydney this night and share an extraordinary Utube clip a woman I have been lucky to spend time with some years ago, dancing Tango, with a Soccer Ball.

Viva Buenos Aires! Viva Sydney! And specially tonight, Viva Cape Town and South Africa. Long Live!




[Mother City photo taken by Rosemary Shapiro-Liu in 2003. But it could have been taken on my 2010 visit to Cape Town. While much has changed, there is much that has stayed the same. Photos on this blog are copyright.]

20 years of Freedom for Nelson Mandela

Meeting Mr Mandela at Broederstroom in 1994, at our Juvenile Justice for South Africa conference

In 1994 I had the wonderful privilege of meeting Mr Nelson Mandela. It's a story worth telling. But today I am remembering the day Nelson Mandela was released from Pollsmoor. It was the 11 February 1990, exactly twenty years ago. I was cooking at a camp for kids from my old Cape Town school, Westerford. We were in Onrust, not far from Hermanus (which is about an hour and a half from Cape Town). Someone wandered into the kitchen and announced, quite casually, that Nelson Mandela was about to be released from prison. My heart skipped a beat. It seemed completely impossible.

All over the world people would have been having the same reaction. This amazing day had seemed well nigh impossible until just before the announcement. The fight against Apartheid over the few previous years had become more and more intense, with more and more hope, yet this dream had still felt like it was a long way off. The pain and suffering of the Apartheid era was all around us, and we had seen many people detained in the late eighties. We'd heard terrible stories of beatings and torture and had known many people in hiding from the security police. Three people in my immediate family had been detained between 1985 and 1988. We knew we were amongst the lucky ones - others, mostly black people, had not been as lucky and had lost family members to the abuses of the system.

I felt as if I should not show too much jubilation. 1990 was still a time of mistrust and I didn't know quite how to react. I wanted to leave immediately and watch the moment of freedom for this remarkable prisoner of 27 years. If my memory serves me, the camp organisers felt the same, and the camp ended early so we could all head back and see the big moment on TV.

I set off as fast as I could, and found myself at a petrol station on the highway at the time that we expected Mandela to be released. I parked my car and hoped I'd find a TV somewhere. There was one. It was in the tiny room that was used by the petrol attendants during night duty and had just a single bed and a small TV on a table. It was afternoon, and around10 people had crowded into the room. They were a fabulous cross-section of South Africa - black people, white people, Afrikaans, English and Xhosa speaking people. They were old, and they were young. And we were all glued to the screen.

Suddenly, there he was. The old man who noone had been was allowed to take pictures of during his 27 year stint in prison. Mr Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela taking his first steps to freedom from prison with Winnie Mandela on his arm. What a dignified man! What an aura! And what quiet power as he raised his right fist. Yes, this was the man we'd been waiting to see.

I raced back to Cape Town. Parking in District Six, about a kilometer from the city, I joined a huge group of people "toy toying" down to the Grand Parade where Mr Mandela was to address the people from the Town Hall balcony. The crowd was restless. They had been waiting there since morning. People were pushing forward, surging towards the Town Hall. Rev Allan Boesak (who was later disgraced in a funding scandal) was urging people to hold back in a bellowing, amplified voice that did nothing to still the restless crowd, but rather seemed to egg them on to a greater frenzy. The crowd pushed ever forward. I kept my distance. Crowds had always scared me, especially the mass protests of the recent years. I knew I couldn't run as fast as my friends when the cops chased us.

Finally Mr Mandela arrived. I remember him cutting such a fine figure up on that balcony. And I particularly remember his wonderful voice that we would all grow to know so well holding the attention of each and every person in the throngs of South Africans who had waited hungrily to hear his words all day, and for some, all their lives. What an utterly historic moment, and what an utter privilege to be there.

The years that followed were filled with hope and promise, and working at NICRO at the time gave me a platform for the optimism I felt so strongly. It also was directly responsible for putting me in the right place at the right time to later meet Mandela. However, things in South Africa are a bit different now, twenty years on, with crime and wide-spread poverty ravaging the country. The damage of years and years of Apartheid continue to take their toll. And worse still, an immoral President Zuma is creating an increasingly dissatisfied electorate (while providing unending fodder for my cartoonist brother, Zapiro's, pen!).  The leadership of that country is nothing compared to the years under Mandela, but political freedom continues. Mandela set the tone for perhaps the greatest modern democracy on earth, and I hope against hope that South Africa can find the Mandela factor in the coming years. The movie Invictus reminds us of where South Africa was headed, and all South Africans whether living at home or abroad, need to take responsibility to let Mandela see the South Africa of his dreams in these, his twilight years. Viva, Madiba! Viva.

Photo of Nelson Mandela and Rosemary Shapiro-Liu by Nigel Branken

ZA News is launched in Cape Town

Jonno's book launch, 2004. One of the last Zapiro events I was able to be at in Cape Town. That's what happens when siblings move to other countries!

I love the entrepreneurial spirit in South Africa. The resourcefulness, the innovation, the excitement that accompanies great ideas. For nearly 10 years now, the puppets created by Zapiro for ZA News have not been aired - TV stations have gone against that South African experimental mood, have blocked the artistic brilliance and quite frankly been what I would call Un-South African. But perhaps that's after living in Australia for a while where there's a constant debate about what is Australian and Un-Australian. But I digress.

Yesterday Kulula.com, whacky as they are, and the Mail and Guardian partnered ZA News and launched the news by the Spitting Image inspired puppets. The secret to the successful screening? Using the internet, and sidestepping television altogether.

I've never been more proud of the work my brother, Jonathan, is involved with. This time with Thierry Cassuto. There's very little to say other than "Go Jonno and colleagues!! ZA News is fantastic".

You can see some of the real ZA News and the Media Launch at the ZA News site http://www.zanews.co.za/ or the Mail and Guardian site http://www.mg.co.za/zanews

17 Degrees South

Picture at Sonasaili resort, Fiji, 2007 Honeymoon.

I passed my Citizenship test. First time. 100%. Boy, do I feel proud of that. One thing to remember is that the head of government is the Prime Minister and the head of State, yes it's true, is the Queen. Queen Elizabeth, that is. Luckily the guy who escorted me up in the lift at the Department of Immigration quizzed me on that one, just to play with my pre-test nerves. It paid off.

Something else to remember if one is not keen to give up Citizenship of your country of birth is to let them know BEFORE you apply for Citizenshipship in the New Country that you want dual citizenship. Otherwise they swiftly remove your original citizenship. Well South Africa does, anyway.

With the Citizenship test under my belt and a new-found sense of strayanism (that's "Australianism" to those not in the know) I embarked on a piece of detailed research about a one-week break (at five months pregnant it's apparently called a Babymoon!) on the Great Barrier Reef. After all, I now live in Australia and I can't be satisfied with just knowing Sydney and surrounds. There's 4,000km in width to play with and 3,700km north to South to explore (aren't I fabulous that I know the stats from my test - although I had to rely on an even newer arrival than me, Anita, to tell me that there are 37,000km of coastline - hah - add THAT to the study book, I say). So the Barrier Reef it was.

I learnt that there are three major sections I was interested in - the Southernmost islands - they have less mountains, and even have some backpacking options. Lady Elliot Island, Lady Musgrave Island, Great Keppel Island. With some snorkeling straight off the islands. Accessible from Rockhampton and Brisbane and the like. But those airports are not that well connected.

Then there are the middle islands - around Hamilton Island including the Whitsundays. The land resort area is Airlee Beach, and all are connected through Shute Harbour. One can fly straight onto Hamilton Island, but that means that everyone does. So it's very touristy, over-priced and crowded. Or so I hear. Daydream Island nearby has mixed reviews, but is another option. It's the one place one can fly straight onto an island, and that is tempting.

Then there's the famous north. Cairns, Townesville, Port Douglas. Port Douglas is very popular with people whose opinions I respect. But the reef is very far away and my dream of being able to walk out onto the reef is just a dream. It's a long time in a boat, and with my pregnancy heading up for month five and a half, I can just imagine getting really sick and that would be awful. The Southern Islands have some snorkeling right off the islands, but that is less likely in the north.

I stand to be corrected on all of this, having never been to anywhere that I am writing about, but hours (literally hours) of internet reading with Francis resulted in a general feeling of nuh-uh about our long awaited trip. The reviews, if one reads the detailed reviews, were filled with disappointment about the amount one pays for the amount you get. It's REALLY expensive. And we just could not find enough positive stuff to make us take the bull by the horns and book Queensland.

So at 1am we decided to give up on the complicated itineraries we had been constructing for an Australian break and choose either to go back to the Yasawa Islands in Fiji (where we honeymooned in 2007 and which we highly recommend - we'd assist anyone with ideas about those) or to take the plunge and go 17 degrees South. To Vanuatu.

And that is what we are going to do. We'll spend a week in Vanuatu - half of it at the Hideaway Island resort (what a picture!) where, yes, you can snorkel right off the sand I am told. And the other half wherever our noses take us. Or your recommendations lead us.

So while I love 34 degrees South (Sydney, Cape Town, Buenos Aires - and maybe one day Santiago in Chile... Francis and I have started lessons in their national dance, the Cueca, so we might land up there one day) this time I have to halve my usual favourite number and choose 17 degrees south. Let's see how it pans out!


Ps - I recommend www.travelonline.com for accommodation deals. Their deal was SO much cheaper than the one we used, but hey, I'd already booked. Nothing to be done about that. Just don't get caught out too.

Social Media - good or not?

What a strange, strange day the 25 June 2009 was. Michael Jackson (50) died in Los Angeles. Farah Fawcett (50) died in Santa Monica, California. However, Jeff Goldblum did NOT die in New Zealand as some online hoaxes claimed. Twitter, Facebook, blogs and online fora get news out fast, but this is not always an advantage.

Why would anyone put out a hoax that someone is dead when that person certainly is not? The "falls to his death in New Zealand" is apparently not a new story. It has re-emerged after many years. There was one attempt, according to Seven News, to say that Tom Cruise had met his fate this way too. Of course he hadn't.

Personally, I find online tools the most incredible thing since sliced toast. To live in Sydney, so far from my native Cape Town, would be that much harder without daily contact with friends and family from the home country and news from the home world. I would find my distance from Buenos Aires so sad - how I loved my tango days there in 2004. With the help of posts on Facebook, particularly, I can follow tango all around the globe. And be part of it.

With a large belly, and a Spud on the way, I can't do those inter-continental flights that could connect me to the rest of the world. My computer, and skype, will just have to do it. And they do, for me. However, this this fantastic technology goes hand in hand with the risk of false news reports. I find Hoax-Slayer really useful to check these things out.

RIP Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett.

And Jeff Goldblum - you continue to live a long and healthy life despite any online hoaxes.

Last-First Networks

Taken in Guguletu, not long before I moved to Sydney.

I constantly hear of organisations in other countries, specially in Africa, that can do with our support. That is, the support of those of us who live relatively comfortable lives in the developed world. One of my favourites at the moment is the African Scholars' Fund. For around $100 AUS one can support one young person through school for a year. The young man Francis and I support has managed to pass, yet again, and is really grateful for the opportunity the African Scholars Fund has afforded him to continue his education. His mum receives a pension of less than $50 a month (unimaginable!). He would never have been able to continue school without assistance.
[Click here to sponsor a child]

There is something so right, so useful, in bringing money to third world causes from first world sources. The money buys so much more. It's vital to many smaller projects.

I came across a wonderful group here in Australia, in Queensland to be exact, called Last-First Networks who distribute books, CD's, DVD's, training manuals in social justice issues, and handicraft and fair trade coffee. They are

a Network of community development practitioners committed to generating interest in and promoting access to educational resources on social, justice, peace and empowerment.

Those who created Last First have worked for years in Development settings, and bring their social justice experience home to Australia. To Queensland, to be exact. There's a fabulous video on Facebook of the work of one of the groups in the network, West End Women's Work. Watch it here.

It's easy to be involved either in the needs of those at a distance, or those who have recently arrived in Australia. It just needs commitment from plenty of people, and you can be one of those people.

Hamba Kahle, Mama Africa Miriam Makeba

Mama Africa, Miriam Makeba, has died at 76. To our family she was an icon. We learnt the Click song as children, struggling with the challenges of the clicks, and trying to imitate as closely as possible the complex sounds.

There was a picture of an African lady that hung facing our front door was, in my young eyes, Miriam Makeba. It wasn't her, but when I heard the Click Song I would imagine that picture singing. She now hangs in my older sister Yvonne's house. And next to my front door in Sydney is another wonderful oil painting of an African woman. Sometimes if I listen carefully, I think I can hear her sing too.

The introduction to the song is as potent to me as the extraoardinary clicks throughout the song. From memory, this is what it says:
"In my native village in Johannesburg there is a song we always sing when a young girl gets married. It's called the Click Song by the English because they cannot say QONGQOTHWANE".

Our wedding video opens with Miram Makeba singing the Click Song. The picture pans to Marjorie Mbokoma, a special friend who was our nanny when I was a child. Marjorie was my surrogate mother at our wedding as my parents had both passed away. It is almost as if Marjorie is singing in that DVD.

About ten years ago I watched Miriam Makeba perform. She seemed tired, her voice was scratchy and I think she was not very well. I was horrified that people hurled abuse at her - and even some tin cans. I have had this memory for some time, and I wish I could apologise to her on behalf of those hooligans.

My abiding memory is her dulcit tones and the way those catchy rhythms got us dancing in our lounge. For me she will continue to represent the mama's of Africa. Hamba Kahle, Mama Africa.

Buenos Aires, Sydney & Cape Town: all three are winners of the 2008 Conde Naste Best City on their continent award

Well, well, well. It's no wonder that Buenos Aires, Sydney and Cape Town have each been voted Best City on their continent in the 2008 Conde Naste's Best City ratings.

Three of my favourite things about each:

BUENOS AIRES:

1. The tango - specially in the outskirts of the city in small, local salons

2. The tango - OK, OK, it really is the best thing about BA, but my second vote goes to Sunday afternoon tango on the streets of San Telmo

3. The architecture (so there's more to BA than tango) - it's not called Little Paris for nothing.

SYDNEY

1. The Harbour Walks - and there are many. 100's of kilometers of coastline, most of which is public walkway. Mangroves, bobbing boats, blue water (though not all for swimming), ferries, rowers, tinnies, canoes, birds.

2. The Hawkesbury - just one hour north of Ashfield by train. The last Riverboat Postman and the huge jelly-fish.

3. The incredible diversity of people living (mostly) peacefully - and the ability to walk about safely, especially as a woman.

CAPE TOWN:

[It's only right to stick to three reasons why I love Cape Town, but I could wax lyrical on this one for 300, given the chance... ok, I miss Cape Town...]

1. Table Mountain

2. My family roots and my oldest friends (I mean tenure!)

3. The animals: The whales in False Bay, the whales just over an hour away in Hermanus, the penguins at Boulders Beach in Simons Town, my ex-dog in Stanford, and the African wildlife so possible to reach at Addo Elephant Park or further north in the Kruger, Pilanesburg and other places that are not in Cape Town, but that I associate with the most beautiful city on Earth.

These are a few of my favourite things 34 degrees South. Perhaps you could let me know yours.

Malplaas orange

MALPLAAS. Near Botrivier, Western Cape... Now THIS is what I call an inviting establishment. I've not been there, I've just seen it for the first time on the internet today. I intend to make it a priority to get there the next time I am back in Cape Town.

There's something about the innovation of people in South Africa, the resourcefulness, the love of life that I love. My experience of South Africa, and I suppose that would mostly be Cape Town, is one of Can Do. If it needs to be done, it will be done. If it can be whacky and fun, all the better. If it can involve some major passion or passions (in this case Orange, Animals and the Great Outdoors), then it scores top marks.

I don't know who runs Malplaas (funny farm). Or why they started it. But it looks wonderful, complete with a carbon offset project. What a zest for life. And their website is wonderful, to boot.

If you go there, please let me know what it's like.

And to all of you at Malplaas - Go For It! You put a big orange smile on my dial.

Xenophobic attacks on foreigners in South Africa

I feel sick to my stomach. Not since the deepest, darkest days of Apartheid have I felt the churning I now feel in my belly. Foreigners from other African nations have been hacked to death and burnt by ordinary South Africans in a xenophobic frenzy. Thousands of people are fleeing for their lives. They are displaced, terrified, and like so many who watch, are horrified. Families are being torn apart. Even employers of foreigners (alleged or real) are not safe.

South Africa has boiled over. The seething difficulties fuelled by recent price hikes and the worsening situation in Zimbabwe and hence increased numbers of foreigners entering South Africa are the final blows to an already tense-to-breaking-point nation. Disappointed, frustrated and unheard, thousands of South Africans have sunk to new levels of venting and violence.

I can write no sense on this one. I expect few people can. The blame game is too easy, the sadness too immense. Instead I laud those who are assisting, those who migh be able to mediate, those who can assist with money, food, shelter. And most of all I laud those leaders in the community who can, and I am sure will, find a way of talking people down and restoring the balance. I hope that they are helped by measured intervention from the army, and I implore the government of the day to declare a state of emergency and to act, fast and decisively.

South Africans visiting Sydney - costs

For a South African visiting Sydney, here is an idea of costs. The rand is between R5,80 and R6 per Aussie dollar.

• coffee $3 (if you're lucky $2,80 but can go up to $4,40 for the shmancy ones)
  
• train from inner west into city, after 9am, return $4.40
• meal in a food court $6 to $11, without drink usually
• meal in a cafe $12 to $19
• breakfast with all the bits in a cafe about $10 - 12
• ferry tickets - best to buy a pack of ten for inner harbour ferries - $27 for 10
  
• swim in a public pool - between $4 and $5,50, book of 10 about $37
• $1.80 for the Sydney Morning Herald
• tango milonga $15 - $20
• tango lesson $15 - $20 (combine a group lesson with a milonga to save costs)
• RSL Clubs (no, not Rosemary Shapiro-Liu clubs - these are Retired Servicemen Leagues) offer cheap but often good meals, often in an eat-all-you-like format - about $12 - 15 for lunch and $15 - $18 for dinner (if you join, usually for $2, those meals will cost a few dollars less)
  

3 memorable cities, one address

Cape Town, Buenos Aires, Sydney: three cities, one Southern address. Once visited, they never leave you. I was born in Cape Town, and have lived there 40 years. Both Buenos Aires and Sydney now occupy a special place in my life - they say life begins at 40, and for me it did - all over again. I visited Buenos Aires, at 34 degrees South, soon after my 40th birthday to pursue my passion for tango, and then moved to be with my loved one in Sydney, also 34 degrees South. It was in Spain that we met, while I traveled the world at the start of my new life-begins-at-40. Three cities I love, three places that represent home.

These photos offer a glimpse into the three cities: the Majestic Table Mountain, in the Mother City, Cape Town. Devils Peak at sunset from Woodstock, near my Cape Town home, at the dog-walking field. Bar Chino in Buenos Aires, and the tango salon, at Conf Ideal. And finally Sydney, the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge from the air, from a small plane.

Three cities, all 34 degrees South, all wedged in my soul.

Devils Peak, Cape Town (from Woodstock)












Conf Ideal, Buenos Aires