[Disclaimer: frivolous, fluffy, free-dimensional stuff]
In 2 months and one day’s time, I’ll be 30. Age is but a number and all that, but tonight, a bustling Friday night in Cape Town’s northern suburbs, the Walkers have no engagements.
Yes, it concerns me. But there’s ice cream in the freezer, the Pinotage is poured, and this is waiting for me on the couch:
I'm pretty happy to socialise tomorrow and stay up until at least 11pm.
A warning, to any South Africans still in the early days of a relationship with a foreigner, and dreaming of living on in South Africa: pinch yourself now. This country will NOT accommodate that dream without a struggle.
I love my country with a deep, burning pride of place. It’s a pride that transcends greed for the money that you could earn elsewhere, the travel opportunities, or a more streamlined lifestyle. It’s not self-indulgent; it’s where I belong.
It used to transcend the frustration toward the inefficiency of government institutions and officials. But after the past couple of months, I’m sad to say that I’m beat. I suddenly resent Africa-time, and I’m bitter about too much apathy from too many people in power – apathy that doesn’t sit well with the glorious, rich, singing South Africa of ubuntu.
Last night, out of despair with the system, and for whatever it may be worth, I wrote a letter to Helen Zille. Rather than airing my anguish all over again, you can read it here – all about how the husband of a South African citizen gets told to wait 6 months for his renewed work permit before he can legally work again.
We all have our own substantive struggles. Away from our shiny happy tweets, social glimpses and Facebook updates, we all have to deal with really upsetting things that we don’t really have the inclination or the energy to tell each other about, so we close in on ourselves; frail buds. Friends betray us, bad people do bad things to us (the tenants who left in the dead of night after not paying rent for 3 months – I’m looking at you), and life throws us big sticky curve balls. And of course there’s nothing like a couple of curve balls to remind us of our own little frailties. This is me admitting to mine.
The past few months have seen me lose my voice a little bit. I haven’t coped as well as I’d have liked. I’ve thrown myself into work - and here my colleagues all deserve medals (or in their case, several rounds of tequila); they’ve been major emotional buoys, and the only reason I’ve coped with my workload.
So, by some way of apology, to the friends and family and everyone who didn’t get replies to their SMSes, emails, tweets, etc. – I’ve been on an extended leave of absence from my social responsibilities, and I’m sorry for not having being more reliable. And to those friends who learnt about our debacle, thanks for being nothing short of awesome in your support.
I’m still proudly South African, albeit a struggling, desperate, torn-apart South African for now.
Dear Helen
This email is from someone who is not politically inclined. Yes, I vote DA; I also subscribe to your policies for an open society, and I follow you on Twitter. But this is about my livelihood as a South African citizen, who’s been let down by our Home Affairs’ non-existing service delivery in a big way.
I refer you to a News24 article from February this year, ‘Home Affairs sued over backlog’.
The state of our Home Affairs administration is not disappointing, not disgusting, not shocking – it’s soul-destroying. Even more so is the state of immigration legislation available to laymen in our country, and in this case, the competency of the visa agencies that advise us.
My British teacher husband and I got married in George in March last year. He met me here, while studying at Stellenbosch, in 2003. We lived in the UK since, and then, in 2008, made the decision to settle permanently in South Africa, despite all the known adversities. In November 2009, before he flew down and shipped over all his possessions, we consulted a Garden Route-based visa agency about the best possible work permit he could obtain. We were told that because we were not married yet, we weren’t eligible for a spousal visa; the best option was a 3-year permit that was based on our ‘spousal relationship’, but which meant that he’d have to renew it each time he changed place of work. He applied for it, received it after a few weeks’ worth of waiting, and we incurred no hassles.
This year, we moved to Cape Town, so he had to renew his work permit to teach at a new school. He consulted the same immigration agency that helped us last year, who promptly quoted him for their advice again. He went through all the admin again: police clearance, medical checkups, bank statements, affidavits, and when he handed it in at Home Affairs Cape Town, the officials laughed at his assumption that it would take a ‘couple of weeks’ as it had done last year. No, because of a ‘backlog’, it could take up to 6 months. He phoned the Garden Route visa agency, and the 'advisor' seemed surprised that he didn’t already know this; informed him that there is indeed a backlog, and that many of their other clients have had to wait longer than 6 months, and that they suspect that the officials are working through the piles of applications “from the top down”, where the bottom ones are those that arrived first.
Two weeks after he handed in his application, he received a SMS from Home Affairs to confirm that his application has been received – in the same office where he handed it in. Weeks followed where he phoned Home Affairs on a daily basis – the answer, each time, is that it still needs to be sent off to Pretoria; the explanation of why, and the suggestions on what to do next, varied each time.
During this time, a friend of ours got her spousal visa. She’s Irish, engaged to a South African. They skipped the option of going through a visa agency, and went straight to Home Affairs in George, where luckily they were given the right information. She waited 7 months to receive her spousal visa, but now she can work where she wants, without going through the same hassles again. The astonishing caveat in the spousal visa legislation is that once you’re married, the clock goes back to 0. You need to be married for 5 years before you’re eligible to apply for it – this compared to proving your spousal relationship before the date of marriage, in which case you’d also be eligible for it. We were given the wrong information, and now we’d have to wait 4 years before we can apply for the visa we should have had in the first place.
Two months after my husband’s application was handed in, I phoned Pretoria. I was put through a major security check (“how did I get this number?”) only to be told that sorry, they don’t know why, but my husband’s application is still in Cape Town. It hasn’t left for Pretoria yet. And there doesn’t look to be any problems with it. Maybe I should go to the Cape Town office to ask them why. Is there anything else he can help me with? Etc.
We are lucky, I guess. We have no children, we have savings, my husband teaches at a school that valued him enough to keep his job open while he waits for his permit, plus he could go back to a country where he can get work overnight, and earn good currency. And that’s what he had to. Because even though we have no children, and even though we have savings, we can’t afford to live without a full second salary every month.
My husband had to leave for the UK, I had to stay, earn Rand, and honour our financial commitments here. We had no idea how long he’d be gone – I’d check his mail and phone for alerts from Pretoria. They never came.
After consulting the British Consulate, however, we were referred to a visa agency who did go out of their way to help us – at no charge. It turns out there is a constitutional court ruling that dictates that no spouse of a South African citizen may be withheld from work for longer than 30 working days. They were astonished that neither the Garden Route agency nor any of the Home Affairs officials we’d consulted ever informed us about this. Luckily the new agency’s knowledge and advice has meant that my husband can come back home.
In the meantime, we wait for his application to be approved and returned from Pretoria (if it has, indeed, been sent off to Pretoria yet.) A few things have now been explained to us. For one, in June last year the ability to process work permit applications was disbanded at a local municipal level – this is most probably the major contributor to the ‘backlog’. Also, there are many other couples like us. Finally, once my husband receives his renewed work permit, should we want to apply for a spousal visa, we will need to challenge the legislation in constitutional court.
What I need to know is this. Why?
I realise these aren't DA decisions. But where does this state of affairs sit in terms of the DA’s policy of not letting the state dictate the course of citizens’ daily lives, or the directions of their ambitions?
Sincerely
Irene Walker
Music is a big deal to me. If it doesn’t answer all my questions, it certainly helps to find solutions to most of my problems.
Cue Angry Music. Because today is my token Angry Day. (Just so we're clear: we’re all allowed to have Angry Days.) And here are some of the catalysts that may just restore the balance of things. May. Just.
Turn it up. But make sure the kids aren’t around to hear the naughty words.
Lil Wayne - Drop the World (ft. Eminem)
Papa Roach - Getting Away with Murder
See? Better already.
I'll be nice again tomorrow.
Each year, round about this time, I sit down with a fountain pen and notebook, and set out to do justice to the past year by consolidating my thoughts about it in heady prose. And each year, it ends up being indecipherable, stream-of-consciousness stuff; so whimsical it doesn't bear looking at again. So this year, I'm typing it up, and keeping things nicely contextual thanks to this meme I found on Kerry-Anne's blog.
Unfortunately, as it's the 11th hour and I'm in a foreign country with a bunch of debaucherous welshmen threatening to carry me off into Liverpool any second (well, not quite, but the artistic licence is convenient when I'm in a rush) I'm just going to do this post in broad brush. Tomorrow, or, most probably, the day after, I'll come back and do it properly.
Update: Ok, it's the 12th of January already, and I'm only coming back to do The Edit now. I've been on holiday, okay.
1. What did you do in 2010 that you’d never done before?
Most memorably, I changed my name. I also became mommy to a beauty of a dog-child - I've only ever had cats.
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I don’t remember making any. If I did, it was probably the usual - some variation of commitment to doing leg exercises to finally get calf muscles. In which case, it's safe to say I didn't keep them.
For 2011, I'm going to be trying the no-swearing thing. But, instead of seeing it as a hard and fast resolution rule, I'm going to try and just be realistic about it. I mean, sure, wit is so much more impressive in these situations, and not everyone has my penchant for the profane, but really, sometimes, a good bad word really just does the trick. Especially in Afrikaans.
3. How will you be spending New Year’s Eve?
In Liverpool, at an apparently quiet street party, with friends who we've not seen for over a year. I'm not entirely sure how quiet it's going to be.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
No. And for this, I'm very thankful, and I feel very blessed.
5. What countries did you visit?
Much as I'd like say "First there was Sri Lanka, then Samoa, Cuba..." the only country I visited was the UK - great and everything, but it doesn't really count.
6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?
I don't know that there's anything material that I lack. I mean, sure, who doesn't want an entire kitchen kitted out in Le Creuset? Or, in my case, their own library or wine cellar?
I could do with more of me; at least another 2 Irenes. One would have to be on permanent dishwashing duty - I seriously suck at washing dishes fast enough.
I could also really do with a tenor sax and a jet ski. But... before I get carried away: no, there's nothing that I lack.
7. What date from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
As much as the World Cup was centre stage in South Africa this year, no other date could hold a candle next to 20 March.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Learning how to channel negative, anxious thinking into truly positive thinking... A very tangible achievement for me. I can't put into words how chuffed I am with myself for it, and I'm already cheesy enough here, so let's just say: "It's a good place to be, and I don't intend leaving it anytime soon." :)
9. What was your biggest failure?
False hope and naïveté. (Again with the cheese. Also, if this sounds deliberately vague, it's because it is. I'm sugar-coating by keeping it vague.) Such serious questions!
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Nothing major, touch wood. And after 2009, with its slipped vertebrae not-covered-by-medical-aid, and its 4 sinus infections, I'm most grateful for the break.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
I never stopped to think about one defining purchase. There were many good buys that made me feel warm and fuzzy, like the inimitable Humphrey (not that he should be thought of in any terms of quantification), the U2 ticket for my dad, the birthday present my husband had coveted for years, the plane tickets to come to my second home here in North Wales. And not least the recent spate of purchases courtesy of the boxing day sales. Now they made me feel warm and fuzzy...
12. Where did most of your money go?
Travel, books, moving house, and gifts.
13. What song will always remind you of 2010?
Shakira's Waka Waka or K'naan's Wavin' Flag.
14. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Exercise, or just spending more time outdoors. See #6.
15. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Sitting behind my monitor, being sucked into my beloved/blasted internets.
16. What was your favourite TV programme?
Glee. It's become a leetle bit of an obsession, if only for ...
17. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
What a curious question. I don't think I hate anyone. Now, if we changed the question to "Do you love anyone now that you used to hate as a teenager?" - well, that would an altogether different kettle of fish.
18. What was the best book you read?
One Day by David Nicholls, hands down. The guy's a genius; visceral omniscience, dialogue and depth. (And the worst, by far, is Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel.)
19. What was your greatest musical discovery?
OneRepublic, strangely enough. I only recently started paying attention to them long enough to find out that they tick all my core boxes: drama, diversity, classical integrations, explosiveness...
20. What was your favourite film of this year?
Ah. Films. With me, this is a bit of a taboo topic, as my taste in films got frozen at the age of about 7 and a half. So, sparingly, let's just say it was Despicable Me.
21. What did you do on your birthday?
Spent the day with my mom, who is born on the same day. And later, had pizza and drinks with a few close friends.
22. What kept you sane?
My husband. It's marginally worth noting, though, that by making me feel insane, he's also the reason I need to be kept sane sometimes. :)
23. Who did you miss?
Friends abroad, my grandfather.
24. Who was the best new person you met?
I met so many wonderful new people; I couldn't possibly single any one person out. I also reconnected with some older acquaintances. Again, all I can say, is that I'm very blessed.
25. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010.
A bitter, hard truth: no matter how much you want to, you can't help people who don't want to help themselves.
I like The Parlotones and I hate French champagne. There, you just judged me, right?
The only thing I can emphatically say that I’m a snob about, is snobbism.
I don’t know when (or how) it became so cool to be snobbish about everything (honestly, is ‘cool’ even a cool enough word anymore? I don’t know.) But I do know that it doesn’t sit well with me.
With the sales for U2, Roxette and Kings of Leon tickets kicking off here in SA, comments about the bands have been echoing through Twitter. The consensus seemed to be: it’s not cool to like U2. It’s uncool to even mention Roxette. And Kings of Leon, well, they rock.
I missed the bandwagon. Is there a hidden sense of empowerment in publically, collectively, proclaiming your disdain?
Don’t get me wrong. I’m feisty about brand promises and customer care. Really feisty about badly designed websites. Don't get me started on SEO. If asked, I can pontificate red wine finishes and over-tones with the next lofty aficionado, or get ridiculously petulant about Cadburys vs. Green & Blacks (the latter, by the way). I’m just plain pedantic about spelling and grammar. I’m not a fan of The Stereophonics, The Bieber, poodles, Comic Sans, or watching sport on TV. Even more shock-horror, I’m not into politics, watching what I eat or entering bride-of-the-year or other nominate-yourself competitions…
My point is: I don’t look for company or attention by taking my sniggers to the interwebs.
Until now, that is. Because someone has to stand up for The Parlotones, and someone has to budge and admit they don’t like Kings of Leon.
So here’s my dirt. Snobs, snub away:
There you have it. I’m cheesy, naïve, ultimately dull. Frumpy? But at least I’m not a snob.
The Walkers are moving, from the Garden Route to Cape Town.We want this to be the place. And we need your help.
But first: some mood music. Listen while you read.
Over the past seven years, we have moved more times than I care to count ( … to think of all the boxes, the broken mirrors, the crack filler – it hurts). So really, this move must be the place.
And just because we do complicated so well, we’re moving out now, and only moving in in 2 months’ time. In-between, we’re storing our furniture, couchsurfing at families’, and going on a bit of a holiday (some of this simultaneously).
Because we’ll be new to Cape Town, we’d appreciate your help. Only if you’re Capetonian of course, or have lived in Cape Town, or know somebody who genuinely knows somebody who actually lives in Cape Town.
To get set up, we need recommendations for good:
Oh, if you know of a book club that’s willing to have me (tall, sporadically outspoken, with a predilection for trashy fantasy novels), and a cricket club willing to have my husband (in his own words: a "Gower-esque left-hander who turns his leg spin like Warne but pitches it with the accuracy of Vaughan") – well, yeah, please, do let me know.
Oh, oh! And also, we don’t actually know where we’re going to live yet. So if you know of a cool place to rent, (3-bed minimum, enclosed garden, unfurnished, pretty much anywhere in Cape Town as my husband and I are still sparring about north vs south – don’t ask) then again, please shout.
Thanks.
Irene
These infographical (is that even a word? It should be!) works of art are done by hand; a cartography firm, Axis Maps, crafted them using typography only. I love it - an example of good user experience that gets to be innovative and pretty too.
Russell never suffers an opportunity to remind me of my poor co-piloting skills; I hate reading maps so by definition that makes me a bad navigator. Well, not quite. Why deign to squint or drown my eyes in AA road-kill when there are beauties like these out there? Now if only I could commission one for Cape Town…
Humphrey sent my adrenalin levels packing this afternoon. He came into the house, yelping, hopping on 3 legs while trying to scratch his entire body with the other leg, looking like Hitch when he discovered his allergy to shellfish. Seems the poor little tyke picked a fight with a hive of bees...
After calming down at the vets', and after the reception staff calmed down from laughter, they took this photo for me. And no, my smile is not from laughing at my dog (who, let's face it, is already not an oil painting). Obviously, it's one of relief.
