The Circle of Life

All I can say is: thank God for The Lion King. I have serious trouble living in any area that has not been the location of a Disney movie. Luckily, my hometown of Meadville looks enough like provincial France that I could identify it with Beauty and the Beast. Townsville, Australia was straight out of The Little Mermaid (not to mention The Rescuers Down Under), so I was all set there. London was a bit trickier - while I believe 101 Dalmations was set there, I didn't have a dog, so I couldn't get into that groove. Mary Poppins wasn't really my thing. Robin Hood was a bit north of London (and a bit weird, if you ask me). How was I supposed to adhere to a lifestyle of animated good-vs-evil, happily ever after, love-is-the-answer wonder if I had no Disney template to follow?

Well, when I left London last week after two years of high-highs and low-lows, I was ready for a new chapter. And luckily, I have a Disney outline ready and waiting: The Lion King. I don't mean that the people in South Africa are like talking animals, or that I find myself heir to the throne of King of the Jungle. What I mean is that South Africa is a place of wonder, discovery, and joy - but there are also sinister rules and divisions - some that need to be taken into account and some that need to be broken.

Before I even arrived in Johannesburg, people were telling me "high murder rate" and "AIDS everywhere" and "watch your back." It was a little overwhelming, actually. I arrived on guard. After knocking myself out on the flight with a potent combo of red wine and anxiety-induced-coma, I arrived in Joburg bright eyed and bushy tailed but also wary of everyone. Instead of being greeted by gun-wielding deviants, however, I was met with smiles and "welcomes" from everyone. I bought a ham sandwich at Wimpy and was bowled over by the kindness of the service. (Two years in London may leave you expecting the worst). And then, my lovely Avis driver met me with a car and drove me through Johannesburg to Rivonia, a suburb just north of the city. In a wonderful twist of fate (God must have known I needed some help), my driver's name was Rufus, which is also the name of one of my beloved dogs at home.

Looking out the window on my drive through Johannesburg was a wonderful experience. The sun was rising over the red earth and there were buildings and people as far as the eye could see. My driver was so friendly and was pointing out all of the landmarks and buildings and neighborhoods - I felt like I was in a whole new world. And right away I thought of The Lion King. It was just like the opening of the film, with The Circle of Life playing in the background. Minus all the singing animals, unfortunately.

We arrived at the hotel - Chislehurst House, my home until I find an apartment - and I was taken aback once again by how friendly everyone was. I was also taken back by how amazing my room was. My room, the Walsingham Suite, features a full kitchen, a garden, a king-sized bed, a "honeymoon jacuzzi," a bidet (yikes), a dressing room, and daily replenishing of the cookie jar. Score! The owners were away, so the staff showed me the ropes with everything as I immediately felt at home. Then my car was delivered. Eeek.

I had heard that people mostly drive manual-transmission ("stick") in South Africa, but I didn't realize that the car work would rent for me would be one of these creatures. However, when I sat down in my lovely little Hyundai Atos Prime, turned the key (screeching ensued - should have been my first hint), and went to change the stick from "Park" to "Drive" it dawned on me that the wobbly little shaft (no giggles) in my hand was not going to simply "Drive" - it wanted to know if it should be in 1,2,3,4,5, or R. I knew what R meant and that was about it.

My only experience with driving manual was my first summer job in Greendale Cemetery, where the John Deere tractor I had to drive was a stick shift. However, it has been seven years since then and there is also the small fact that I crashed the tractor repeatedly and never actually figured out how to turn it on on my own. I searched my mind for movie and book references to manual driving - certainly pop culture could solve this problem for me! The only thing that came into my head was the Twilight movie, where Jacob tells Bella to "double pump the clutch" when starting her truck. That seemed like a good start - pumping the clutch while starting the car. I then had flashes back to the graveyard days - you have to hold in the clutch to shift gears! Now we're rolling. I started the car, pushed in the clutch, switched to the "R," hit the gas, and....whump. The car stopped.

Simba didn't have to learn how to drive a freaking car in The Lion King. He got to ride birds and elephants and other magical beasts. My Hyundai would certainly not qualify as a magical beast. I decided to try it again and keep the clutch held in. Success! Kind of. The car started to inch back in reverse, though the screeching noise maintained a steady presence. I started taking my foot of the clutch a little bit and sure enough, the car moved a bit faster. It hit me that the clutch, like the gas, had something to do with the acceleration of the car. Einstein moment, Michael. Ugh.

Shifting to "1" seemed like the logical choice, both in terms of numerology and bicycle riding. However, I couldn't seem to shift without the car dying. The girl who had shown me my room had apparently been watching a laughing from the window and she came out and said "hold in the clutch, put it in first, and hit the gas as you let off of the clutch. If it starts to rumble too much, push down on the clutch." Seemed easy enough. Though the car kept it's screeching up, I managed to get the car up the hill, out the front gate, and onto the road. Onto the road! It was only once I was on an actual street that I realized - "I'm driving on the left side of the road!" - how I had failed to notice that I was driving from the right side of the car instead of the left is beyond me, but falling into traffic on the left side of the road was quite the wake up call. Quickly I was at the end of the road, faced with a right turn (the equivalent of a North American left turn - that dreaded demon) - and still chugging along at 10kph in first gear. These were dire times.

I did what any sensible novice would do. I put on my blinkers and pretended to be broken down. Once everyone had passed me and the street was deserted, I through the car back in first, pulled a quick u-turn, and drove back to the hotel. The screeching of the car was worrying me but I just pulled into the parking spot, turned the car off (where was the "Park" gear, I wondered) and leaped out. After this trial, I needed a nap.

My first day was swiftly coming to an end and I had another realization - I had no food in my room. Considering I was staying in a Bed and Breakfast I figured dinner wasn't part of the equation. I asked one of the staff where I could find food and she said there was a gas station just up the road. I could drive there. Ha! I nodded yes and then decided to try the journey on foot.

Half an hour later, I was standing on a dirt path on the side of a highway, looking across four lanes of traffic at a gas station that seemed to be out of From Dusk til Dawn. Whoopsie Daisy. Now, I had been warned not to walk around because only black people walked. I could not understand why this was a problem and I found that it was not a problem at all. On one hand, it was weird to be the only white person walking around because I'm not used to standing out so much. However, every single person I passed smiled when I smiled, said hi, even gave me directions. I did not feel threatened in the slightest - in fact, I felt welcomed. I can see how walking into the wrong neighborhood or walking around at dark could be an issue, as it would be in any city anywhere, but walking on a main road in the early evening felt comfortable and even a little festive. It was the end of the work day for most of the other walkers and there was that "done for the day" bounce in their steps.

I had to rely on my fellow pedestrians to get to the gas station across the highway. "How did the chicken crossed the road?" - well, he waited for two elderly women to cross the highway and rode the wake. I comforted myself by thinking that no one would run over a granny, let alone two, so I must be safe.

The food at the gas station left a lot to be desired, so I ended up with biltong (kind of like South African beef jerky) and a can of mixed veggies for dinner. Food is food - and I felt kind of cultural while munching the biltong. I made it back to the hotel using similar methodology and quickly ate and passed out.

I won't ramble much longer, but I will say that the following day I decided to "sink or swim" it and drove out onto the highway. I stalled 42 times in my 3 hour drive but I felt relatively confident by the time I had finished, though the car had screeched the entire time. And the other drivers had all been very considerate - only 1 person honked at me throughout the whole ordeal, and that may be because I nearly backed into his Porsche. Picky, picky.

Later that day I decided to drive to my new office just to get a look. As I pulled into the parking lot, the security guard at the gate had me sign in. During this time, I stalled once again. When I started it up again and the screeching began, the guard reached into the car through the window. I assumed he was frisking me, which was fine - I understand the need for security measures. The I saw him grasp a lever next to me and push it down. He smiled and said "You'll drive better with the parking brake off" and ushered me through. Turns out the screeching had come from the darned parking break - I also found myself able to accelerate much more easily, and I didn't stall nearly enough. A week later, I am almost a stick shift pro!

I'll write again with more observations on my so-far wonderful experience and about the first few days of work (which have been awesome). But I think I've filled up enough space for now.

I'll close by saying that I'm not completely naive - I do understand that there are real threats here in Johannesburg. But, by far, the people have been so welcoming that I do believe a lot of the hoopla is unwarranted. Sure there are problems - when I asked my PA at work (a native of Johannesburg) where I should go to get some dinner, she said, completely serious, "You could go to McDonald's, but go through the drive-through or else you'll be mugged. You could go to the Shell station, but at this time of night you'll be mugged." You could try Woolworth's, but make sure to pay the parking attendant or else you'll be mugged. Maybe you should order in?" However, I choose to look at the bright side. So often in life I am overwhelmed by choices - should I go here? should I go there? - and I find it quite nice to have my options winnowed down a bit. Choosing dinner is now that much more simple - go to the grocery store in daylight or else get mugged. Helps me schedule my day perfectly!

Apparently, the tag line for The Lion King was "Life's greatest adventure is finding your place in the Circle of Life" - I didn't remember that. That is how I'm treating my year in Africa. I know I'm not going to find all of the answers here in South Africa - heck, I might not even find one answer - but I am already so enchanted by this country that I know it is going to be a wonderful adventure no matter what.

Sawubona!

Mike :)