Of remembering and driving

Dear Blog

So sorry I have been absent. What can I say? Life has just marched on regardless without a spare minute. It does that.

But it’s that time – and I knew it would happen. Reflections of years gone by. I have that Timehop app and while normally it gives me a giggle, yesterday it stirred a few memories I’ve been attempting to suppress for about a week and stuff keeps happening to make me remember. Yesterday, it was that app which informed that 4 years ago, I was extremely happy to become a godmother and over the moon for Nhandi becoming a mommy. And the floodgates opened. The past week has been full of ‘signs’ of Nhandi and obviously G’s birthday yesterday was the culmination of it all.

Also, there’s a little bit of envy streaking through my mind. Not jealousy – it’s something not as disgusting as pure green eyes monsters. It’s knowing that a year ago (give or take a few days) I was preparing for her memorial – and in the process having an emotional and laughter/tear fulled day/night with my Lani-Mom, my Mouse, my LBW. They are doing all that again this year and I wish with all my heart I was there.

And that takes me back to the day I drove Cape Town all by myself. From Melkbos to Constantia Village.  All. On. My. Own. Having never been a driver in Cape Town, I was rather nervous to say the very least. I was armed with a sat nav – I’m of the belief that a half-jack of vodka should have come along too. The Sat Nav said it would take 2 hours, so I gave myself 3. I wasn’t particularly bothered about the high ways – but I had this stubbornness in my head that if I got the southern suburbs wrong, I’d be a failure, I could no longer call myself Capetonian.

Left Melkbos and soon enough I was speeding along quite nicely, having a sing along. And then I took a wrong turn, not 20 minutes into the journey, and ended up in Brooklyn. Up went the windows, I was determined not to make eye contact with anything and I had to delve deep into my internal aggression. Because, no matter how laid back Capetonians tell you they are… this is not remotely in their remit when it comes to driving. So I jostled for lane ownership along with all the taxi’s and sharrabangs. I’d like to think I won. And then I was on the N2 and this is where my internal navigation (I.N) kicked in and I have to say, she’s a pushy little creature but so clever, so good.

The Sat Nav lady was insistent I needed to go onwards to Muizenburg. I’m sure she thought she knew what she was doing. My internal creature thought this was a shit way to go. I saw an off ramp to Keurboom Road – AHA! I thought (actually I.N did) THAT’S far better. I got off the N road and promptly realised I was out of my depth, nothing looked vaguely familiar.

And at that point Mrs Sat Nav decided to sulk, lose the satellite and all the things that made her work. There I was – in TONS of traffic (as it was Saturday mid-morning) and not a clue which lane I should be shoving my way into. So I crawled along, dangerously close to tears, all exuberance of being oh so clever slowly slinking away. I sat for a good 5 minutes (seemed like years) when I looked to my left and blow me down, if it wasn’t the church my great granny used to go just smiling at me saying ‘you’re okay, you’ll find your way’. It wasn’t a spiritual thing, it was just a ‘you know where you are’ thing. And it was right, I knew EXACTLY where I was. I was in my area, my suburb that I roamed for a good ten years, I knew all the little roads, the short cuts, the ways to LBW.  The Sat-Nav attempted to click into gear at that point and I kept her jabbering on for a while, getting my kicks out of telling her how wrong she was. It was the Military Hill bit that made me laugh in the most in a smug and gleeful kind of way. She said to go right, and that I was 30 minutes from LBW’s house…. But I knew, oh yes I did, that if I veered left, it would take me 7 minutes max. And I chuckled. I was also right.

That drive gave me the confidence to be the Capetonian I always suspected I was. That drive was so much more than a drive. It was me being an adult in the city I was born in. It was me being able, in days after, to take CG on a tour of my childhood, of my haunts and to be able to fix any kind of detours we made. General rule of thumb – head toward the mountains.

And I do wish I was back. Maybe that’s just my emotional state of mind but I would love to be able to sink my toes in the sand of Clovelly/Camps Bay/Melkbos, I’d love to be able to gaze at the mountain (from all angles especially the Southern Suburbs side), I’d love to be able to visit with a few of my favourite people and sit there with some wine and plenty laughs (some tears too probably). I don’t see myself in a living capacity, only a visiting one. But I’d love to recreate that trip with CG. I’d love to show off my city to the bear.

After writing this epic and probably long-winded blog, I can say that I love driving in Cape Town and that’s one thing I never ever thought I would write. I can also say that I can picture all the girls around LBW’s table by the swimming pool and know that a little bit of me was left behind.

** it’s quite amazing that typing all that, all those memories, has made me feel somewhat sated and at peace. I should write more. I must write more.