Rolling through the "ghetto" to Mzoli's

The task of navigator fell upon me and, even though we did get lost, we managed to somehow find our way to the hospital. The staff showed us around and were very courteous. We did feel awkward and sad, as Michiel from Amsterdam rightly noted, in essence it feels like you are watching people die, and there is nothing you can do about it.

There was not that much time for inner-reflection as we had the task of finding Mzoli's, which proved to be highly illusive! We got lost and had to ask for directions about three times! Honestly, my stomach was in an absolute knot, I was scared as we were four females and one male; I was trying to work out our chances of defending ourselves if it came down to it. I am not naïve enough to think I cannot possibly become a crime statistic. Michiel and Dannielle's friend, Elini, also from Holland, experienced a smash and grab in Observatory just two days prior, so my thoughtless comments of handing out pens as weapons to defend ourselves just aggravated our fears! However, we soon got the right directions and got there in one piece, safe and sound.

Talk about a culture shock! The shebeen consists of plastic tables and chairs placed under a roof. I was relieved to see a few tourists here and there. It is definitely not a conventional restaurant, but rather a meathouse that consists of a butchery where you choose your meats and it is then prepared for you on an open fire. The pricing was excellent as a fully-laden tray with chicken, lamb chops and sausage for five people came to about R80. Standing in the cue to pay I noticed a 2008 Excellence Award as one of the Top 100 Restaurants in South Africa, which seemed a bit out of place and ironic as the hygiene left much to be desired with flies everywhere and blood on the floors.

We went next door for drinks and were once again surprised at the reasonable pricing and agreed that Mzoli's makes for a damn cheap date! Our food arrived in due time, and aside from no cutlery except plastic spoons and dirty plates which was remedied immediately, I can honestly say the meat was done exceptionally well. It was juicy, tender and spiced just right with poetoe pap and chakalaka to round it off. Our friends from Holland enjoyed it too. To be honest, I was very relieved to be back on the N2. Looking back it had been an eye-opener in many ways I cannot describe.

Back home, I spoke to Crystal who helps us out at our office at home and who is Xhosa-speaking and told her where I had been. She said: “Hey Marinda, do not eat at Mzoli's! It is going to make your stomach tight-tight. I will bring you chicken and we will slaughter it in your garden!” To which I replied: “Crystal, I don't want to see it, but I will eat it if you slaughter it for me.” And with mutual respect we sat on my stoep, peacefully enjoying a cigarette together, respectful of one another, friends… At least a nicotine addiction manages to cross cultural boundaries.