Apology to Cape Town

Apology to Cape Town

A prominent Cape Town based attorney and former human rights activist, has pointed out that I have been unfair to Cape Town in comparison to my treatment of other South African cities. He took exception with what it appears were my harsh, “bitter” and unflattering words about his beloved city. I referred to the city in un-glowing terms as being a light, airy, frightened and inconsequential soufflé.

I must therefore apologise unreservedly for hurting anyone’s feelings and sensibilities. People have deep seated loyalty and affection towards their cities and rightly so. I fully understand people taking umbrage. Along comes a “Johnny Come Lately”, a wog from Joburg nogal (in Cape eyes most visitors from Joburg are uncouth loudmouths, wear vests, sport lots of gold jewellery and call each other “china”), an upcountry upstart, boulevardier and arriviste, who has the temerity to impugn the reputation of the first city. That was not my intention. My little missive was intended purely as gentle mockery to poke some light-hearted fun at our great cities and our fine culinary traditions and eating habits; habits which I incidentally happen to enjoy and share alongside everyone else.

Let me state that I am a great fan of Cape Town otherwise I wouldn’t own my only home in Hout Bay. It is a modest little villa on the hill, my wife is on the pill and life is just a thrill. I enjoy living in the self-proclaimed Republic even though after living there for ten years, people with impeccable accents still insist on calling me Carlos. I tell them firmly but politely that my name is Costas, not Carlos and that the only Carlos I know is the infamous Venezuelan born left-wing terrorist Carlos the Jackal, otherwise known as Illyich Ramirez Sanchez, who now languishes in a French jail serving a life sentence for various crimes. They look at me suspiciously and think that I have gone mad. I still don’t have permanent residency and the only neighbour I know who actually greets me and speaks to me is my next door neighbour who is an ex-Joburg self-confessed Hyde Park kugela. I also talk to assorted plumbers, electricians and handymen each day over my morning papers and coffee and at least they have the good grace and manners to talk back to me unlike the looming, impassive and very indifferent mountain. Unlike attorneys they are unburdened by legal niceties such as lawyer/client confidentiality so they regale me with tales about the complexities of their latest installation. I know who is experiencing severe plumbing problems, who has a blocked toilet, which roof is leaking and whose lights are constantly tripping because the garden is illuminated like an amusement park at night.

Cape Town is also the birthplace of my son. He was born at the Kingsbury Hospital. Christine was being prepared in one of the delivery rooms by the nursing staff. I anxiously paced the darkened corridors before Stelios was born in the early hours of a chilly April morning waiting for the anaesthetist to arrive to administer a very necessary epidural. A patrician looking doctor approached out of nowhere, whom I correctly guessed was the man whose services we urgently required. I said: “You must be Dr. Cutyourcockoff ” or some similar surname but more WASP sounding. Whereupon his only reply was a scornful and dismissive: “And who are you?” Being still in my impetuous and angry middle thirties, I wanted at that moment to administer the epidural to his penis, but sanity prevailed, Christine needed him, my boy was screaming “get me out of here!” So I stepped aside and let him pass.

Cape Town has several splendid world-class attractions located in one of the most breathtaking natural settings in the world. Also the entrance to the world famous V&A Waterfront is free, but not for long now that we sold it to the Arabs, plus all of 90 square kilometres of our territorial sea-waters including most of Table Bay up to Robben Island and 22 kilometres of coastline from Green Point to Blouberg Strand. My sources tell me that the Dubai consortium plans to build a new gold plated lighthouse along this coastline which will be the tallest of its kind in the world.

There are however many other free attractions to enjoy such as the numerous splendid beaches. Cape Town is also surrounded by a great national treasure; a magnificent nature reserve, offering its residents and visitors from all over the world, several free mountain hikes and walks. A word of caution though, one should walk on the mountain in huge crowds with armed porters bearing expensive imported gifts to hand over on request to the curious locals. It is a local tradition dating back to the days of Jan van Riebeck and the first Dutch occupation of the Cape. Failure to honour this custom may cause offence.

The Cape boasts many top fine restaurants and Cape wines are superb and very affordable. The Cape has also become a second home to the elite of Great Britain, Ireland, Germany and the Netherlands. And they are not all fugitives from justice. In Helen Zille, Cape Town also boasts the best mayor in the country. She is living proof of the adage that when no man can be found, the best man for the job is a woman. She is a no-nonsense, feisty, determined and resourceful fighter who works harder than anyone else for the people of her city.

So allow me to set the record straight. Cape Town is not a soufflé. It is not full of hot air. It is occasionally windy but this should under no circumstances be construed as a reference to flatulence, breaking wind or other forms of noxious intestinal gas. If you’re from the northern suburbs, it’s a solid and comforting vetkoek or a doughnut. If you’re from Sea Point it’s a bagel. It is regarded as well-baked, sturdy and solid, in unpretentious places on the far flung outer fringes like Plattekloof, Durbanville, Belville, Parow, Pinelands, Mutualville, Brackenfell and Sanlamland. To the periphery, the centre is achingly hollow, and to the trendy city bowl, centre and the impressionable southern suburbs like Upper Claremont and Great Constantia, the far flung outer reaches are doughy, chewy and indigestible. Cape Town is also bobotie, curry and rice, fish & chips, cannelloni, souvlaki, falafel, smoorsnoek, gefilte fish, bangers and mash and eisbein. Cape Town is haute cuisine and a mixed grill. Cape Town ultimately like anywhere else on the planet, is a curate’s egg, good in some parts bad in others. A veritable smorgasbord of tastes, cultures and dishes to please everyone. That should also satisfy my learned friend and hopefully cause the least offence.

The Cape may be home to some of our best loved and respected intellectual, business, sporting and cultural giants but it is not as some have cruelly suggested an “idealised enclave of social, economic and intellectual privilege.” It firmly faces the daily and brutal reality that the Cape Flats has the highest tik addiction rate and murder rate in the country. We call it the Cape of Thieves not because we are unkind but only because it is the province where most of our thieves and flashy conmen, foreign and domestic, get caught and incarcerated. One might argue that thieves in Cape Town are not as smart as their upcountry colleagues, but that is unfair and incorrect. It’s just that the pleasant environment and charms of the fairest Cape of them all, lulls them to relax, chill and drop their guard, so they get caught in their cabriolets more often. My advice to a thief or conman would be to stay in a dull, gritty landlocked city like Joburg, where the chances of detection are much slimmer.

If genteel Cape Town has wet dreams about being the Cote d’Azur and the Riviera of Africa, (comparisons coined by inventive estate agents) then the Cape Flats, definitely not soufflé territory, makes the Bronx look tame. Joburg has delusions of being the New York of Africa. In reality we all know that all it has is the mentality of a rough and ready mining camp, its mine dumps, crime, shopping malls, pollution and congested highways, but it has also produced some of the smartest and most enterprising people I know. Pretoria is at best a distant relative and the two aren’t even on speaking terms. Pretoria has the Union Buildings and the Pretoria Zoo, and casual observers can be forgiven for sometimes confusing the two.

Costas alias Carlos
Hout Bay
25 August 2008