Renewalsh

I have been in the Eastern Cape (Ugie, Maclear and Mount Fletcher) doing recruitment for PG Bison – they are building a huge plant (1.5 billion rand) for manufacturing chipboard and are employing 800 people directly with another 3000 spin off jobs. It was like a military operation with security, several ‘layers’ of queues, and then quick buzz interviews after which we shortlisted the suitable candidates for in depth interviews later. (We saw 2500 people in 3 days!)

Note to non South Africans: the area is deeply rural and undeveloped, with endemic unemployment, people relying on old age pensions, child support grants (pitifully small), disability grants and subsistence farming for survival.It is also a spectacularly beautiful area, with mountain foothills, rolling meadows and forests -both indigenous and cultivatedfor the chip board plant. Many of the houses in the widely dispersed settlements are painted a peculiarly bright yellowy turquise grees, and goats and cows wander about, crossing the roads at will, occasionally blocking progress altogther.

DESPERATE stuff – people in their 40s who have never ever had a job! Others have only done a series of short term contracts while yet more occupy their time by participating in volunteer programmes such as community policing forums.

Saw some really ill people – TB, Hepatitis (I tried not to breathe – one man had completely yellow corneas) HIV (how do I know – some people announced their status) as well as one man who really puzzled me.

Picture the situation: community hall, quite run down, but cleaned up by the events company. PG Bison ‘booths’ for the 14 interviewers, rows of chairs for those who had finished filling in their forms, tables and chairs for those filling in forms, marshals directing the flow, portable heaters as it was really cold. Long queues (a kilometre long) outside, with ‘gatekeepers’ explaining the minimum qualifications required.People admitted to the hall as space permitted – all very slick, orderly and organised.

Anyway, this person arrives at my booth. (Having probably been in the queue for 2-3 hours already.) I start asking the required questions, ‘tell me about yourself ’... ‘how do you like your current job?’ (a packer at Pep stores) etc. The person (clearly a man) starts telling me how he likes (his) job. Then I happen to glance from his face to the form and notice the discrepancy. He has (not unlike me) a flourishing facial hair growth. But I think, surely this is tooo much – as the form states quite clearly that (he) is a female. And the facial hair growth appears to be cultivated, not random wiry strands of hair. Thoughts flash through my head – has cross-dressing reached the rurual out(skirts) of the Eastern Cape? Has the sex change phenomenon arrived in Maclear? I stand up, ostensibly to clap my hands for circulation and warmth, but really to check the interviewee’s garb. Alas! This appears to be masculine – but perhaps some rural women are beginning to wear trousers and polonecks – so I do not feel enlightened. And the winter jacket is of ambiguous style. Shoes? Also ambiguous – peoplewalk long distances and therefore tend ot wear flat,comfortable shoes, so no help there.

Panic! I do not feel able to ask the person whether they are male or female – that seems rude to me -not unlike the error made when asking a fat lady when her baby is due. I call over a ‘marshal’ – a senior HR person – and hurriedly ask for help with this dilemma. In the meantime, I babble, asking a series of quite bizarre questions about the shelfpacking techniques of PEP stores (of no relevance whatever to the job specifications required) – all of which the candidate answers IN THE FIRST PERSON. The HR person does not have the gender sensitivities that I have, so he asks ‘are you a man or a woman?’ The interviewee looks shocked, and then first says that he is a woman. A long silence ensues while both of us stare at her/him. Then s(he) admits that he is impersonating his sister in law, who asked him to stand in for her at the interview!

The funny thing is, if s(he) had shaved, and had worn a dress, it might have worked!

Needless to say, this person did not make the cut!

Life in South Africa is never boring!

This was in 1996 – more than ten years ago – and things have deteriorated since then. (Social engineering on a massive scale, widespread poverty, ludicrous inflation – the effects of Mugabe’s ‘reign’.)

We spent a glorious time walking in the Matopoas with a very knowledgeable friend, our son’s choirmaster, Mr Ashley-Botha, fondly known by all as Bunny, and our excellent Bulawayo based lawyer friend Mr Anthony Murphy, who has sincew relocated with his family (sadly) to the Isle of Man.

Bunny and Anthony were so well informed about the ancient boulder outcrops and the plant life, it was an absolute pleasure to walk in that pristine, almost untouched haven.

The only discordant note for me was a large row of enormous Australian bluegums, planted many years prior by Cecil John Rhodes, who is, of course, buried there.

For natural beauty and tranquillity – it is untouched.

Our family of four visited Morocco as part of a holiday which involved myself, my husband and our 23 year old son travelling from South Africa and our daughter travelling form London where she is at Goldsmiths College, University of London.

We seemed to attract a fair amount of attention – my husband is large and smiling, I am quite short and very fairskinned, our son is blond and blue eyed and our daughter Aylwyn has long reddish- brown hair, pale skin and blue eyes.

We were debating which way to turn in the busy street when a group of Moroccans passed us and we heard them say one by one “Red hair and blue eyes!” (in English, so they wanted us to understand)in an exclamatory kind of way.

We found it quite amusing – as ‘tourists’ we were reminded that we were ‘other’ and ‘outsideers’ in Morocco, even though e felt an affinity as Africans.

In the Socco, a young spice seller could not believe that we were African. He was quite astonished!