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Published: July 26th 2010
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Me dancing with Mzoli
Hey, where's his hand going?!? If you’ve spent any amount of time in Cape Town, and aren’t terrified of venturing out to a black township, there is an excellent chance you’ve been out to Mzoli’s in Gugulethu, about 20 minutes outside of Town. Mzoli’s Butchery, or Mzoli’s Meats, is exactly as the title states. An outing to Mzoli’s goes something like this. First, you queue up to buy your meat, usually a combination of beef, mutton, pork, sausage and/or chicken. Second, you patiently wait as they braai, or BBQ, as we Americans call it, your meat with an extremely tasty seasoning. Third, dig in! No utensils required (or provided!). And if you happen to make your way to Mzoli’s on a Sunday, which you really must, you will be enjoying your meal to the upbeat rhythm of dance music. And a natural fourth step is added to your outing: boogy!
The first time I went out to Mzoli’s was on American Independence Day, July 4th. It is assumed on Independence Day that we Americans will eat meat. So eat meat I did. And being that July 4th fell on a Sunday this year, I boogied, boogied and boogied some more! It was probably the most
Me and Pamela
with her brand new Mzoli's hat! fun I’ve had my whole time in Cape Town. Now, because this past weekend was my last one here, it only seemed natural to make one last visit to this Sunday hot spot.
This time, I went out with my friend, Pamela. I met Pamela while volunteering at the Accreditation Centre. She is about 15 years my senior, which means she has solid relationships with mature professionals in the city, who also happen to like to party. Pamela took it upon herself to make sure that I left Cape Town on a high note and she has definitely done her best! What I especially appreciate about Pamela is that she goes out of her way to let people know how much she thinks the international volunteers (like me) are the true volunteers because we’ve both had to pay our own way here and find our own accommodations. So out to Mzoli’s we go. About 3 hours into it, another friend of hers, a former deputy minister (or something along those lines), joins us. He is old friends with the owner of Mzoli’s, a man named no other than, Mzoli. On Sundays, the place closes down around 6pm. Shortly before
that time, Pamela and her friend try to convince me to go with them around the corner to a shabeen (a shabeen being an unlicensed drinking establishment, in this case, someone's home), to go have drinks with Mzoli. Me being me, tell them I’ll meet up with them later as I want to keep dancing.
We part ways and a little while later I go to wait in line for the ladies room. Along comes Mzoli and takes me out of line, down the street to his friend’s house to use the toilet. This was the first time I had been in a home in a township. It is like most homes as far as a cursory glimpse indicates. It’s not like a home you’d find in San Francisco, of course, but it’s not a shack either. The toilet is out back in a regularly flushing outhouse. Afterwards, Mzoli takes me in his car to the shabeen to meet my friends. However, when we get there, my friends are not there, and the music is more of the slow jams/R&B nature. Still wanting to boogy, I slipped out and made my way back to the butchery.
It was
dusk. And I was distracted by the sound of drumming. I asked a woman on the street what was going on and she told me the people drumming and singing were healers. I went to investigate. There were two women and one man drumming in someone’s front yard. There were also two women dancing and singing. Lots of children were gathered around watching. When the man saw me, he shouted something about “White lady!” I stuck out my thumb and alternately questioned if it was okay to approach by moving from a thumbs up to a thumbs down position. He called me in and had me sit next to him. He then handed me a stick to drum with. “Hit here in rhythm.” I’m sure he had no way of knowing I took drum lessons in high school. After a couple of minutes of not messing up, he gave me another stick and away we all jammed together for a bit more. I had no idea what they were singing about but I had a huge grin on my face as I watched the children dancing in a near-frenzy around us. This didn’t continue for too long. It was getting
dark and I really shouldn’t have been out there alone anyway. I had to insist it was time for me to go. The woman I originally questioned on the street called over two other women, one with a young, beautiful girl on her back, and had them escort me back to Mzoli’s Butchery. I chatted with them along the way, noting the post-Mzoli’s traffic jam, asking how they felt about all the foreigners joining the throngs of locals who came out in droves each wake. They didn’t seem to mind. They wanted to make sure everyone was safe though, which is why they were walking me back. A bit later, after talking to some other friends I ran into at Mzoli’s, I walked back to the shabeen to meet Pamela. Another local woman coming out of a house shouted, “White lady, where are you going? It is not safe for you to be out here alone.” “To have drinks with Mzoli,” I replied. I was about 3 houses away from my destination. The night ended with me, Pamela, her friend, Mzoli and his crew drinking complimentary Johnnie Walker Black Label, Glendfiddich, and some of Mzoli's own brand of wine.
At some point, something profound struck me. Had I missed out on experiencing the true Africa during my 2 months here? The 30 minutes I spent alone wandering around the township felt more authentic to me than my entire time in Cape Town. Certainly Cape Town is not fake. It exists. I am here right now. But it is an outlier. I chose Cape Town because it is supposed to be the “best” city in South Africa. And I’m sure it is the best for many reasons. It’s very modern. It’s located on a beautiful waterfront. There are a gazillion expats here. The universities are the top in the country. But it’s not the lifestyle that most Africans experience.
I can say with certainty that Cape Town is not for me. It doesn’t grab me in the least. And after my experience last night, I’m a little saddened that I didn’t get out to more townships (I tried, believe me!). However, I am so grateful for that time wandering around Gugulethu. I’m even more grateful for my trip to Namibia because of the exposure to a different style of life here on the continent. I depart Cape Town in
Yuckin it up
with Mzoli and friend. 2 days and from there I spend a week in Johannesburg before returning to the U.S. I’m sure to have a completely different experience yet again and will hopefully have some interesting tales to share with you. And once I get all my Namibia pictures loaded, I’ll be sure to publish that blog too.
Hopefully you can see a 30-second video of Mzoli's on my flickr page soon (internet is slow going here): http://www.flickr.com/photos/69192286@N00/
More info on Mzol's here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mzoli's
As always, thanks for joining me on my adventure!
Morganne
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Aunt Sue
non-member comment
The adventure
Again, a wonderful commentary. I love following your journey, but look forward to seeing you back home. Loads of love, Aunt Sue