Shaven and Shorn

South Africa is not just about colour.  It’s much more subtle – and much more fun – than that.

When I was here three years ago, I spent quite a bit of time in suburbs like Bellville learning about the Dutch Reformed Church and its community.  It’s almost always unwise to think that people and situations may be alike – but I sensed that they would be a bit like the Ulster Protestants.  And they were – decent, kindly, hospitable, upright.  A bit cautious about outsiders.  They were people who had put their faith in a package which combined religion and politics and now felt that they were losing.  They kept home baked biscuits in Tupperware boxes.  I liked them and felt at home with them.

Yesterday, Mark and I decided it was time for a haircut – if you want to know about a place, get your hair cut there.  My hairdresser turned out to be a long way from Bellville – coloured, frizzy hair died auburn and very camp.  I don’t have much hair so there was time for a chat.  I always have problems with the sticky-out hair at the top – ‘No problem’ he murmured.  ‘My ex-partner had hair just like yours.  I’ll cut it the way I used to do his’  And so he did.  And we chatted about how South Africa is changing and how he wanted to move to Italy – because Australia is too much like South Africa.  And he did ears and eyebrows and beard – eyes covered in case bits of beard jumped up and stung them.  And with a waft of talc and perfume it was done.

Welcome to the new South Africa!

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