Home

What is home? What constitutes that feeling of complete groundedness and belonging?

Home is not a place. It's not where you lay your head. It's a feeling. There isn't a city or town in this country I don't feel at home in. There was a time I hated Johannesburg. And I learned to love it. I fell in love overnight.

The morning after the night before saw me participate in the Men's Health Urbanathlon back in 2010. It was a 13km run/obstacle course that took us through Sandton. It was a perfect morning. Clear skies, bright sunshine, I think the temperature must've gotten up to 28 by 8am.

I headed back to my guest house in Illovo, and after a long, drawn-out soak in the tub and a hot, steamy shower to rinse off after, I was drying myself when I thought I heard someone moving furniture across the wooden floors in the room above mine. Turns out it was thunder.

Moments later, rain was pelting down, lightning was crashing all around, car alarms were going off, dogs were barking. The thunderstorm lasted about 25 minutes. The whole time, I stood there, naked but for the towel around my waist, door still wide open onto the lush garden just beyond the rough-hewn stone pathway, gushes of water off the roof, hitting the still-warm ground creating a magical bed of steam enveloping the agapanthus and clivia. And then it was gone. Silence. No traffic noise, no dogs, no alarms, no thunder, no rain. Just the soft trickles of water finding their way back into the earth. The air was clean. There was peace. It was majestic.

Durban became home for me in much the same way Joburg did. It was almost an overnight experience as a result of a culmination of events. And that's when it hit me: home is that feeling. It's the culmination of events the result of which will always be greater than the sum of its parts.

Cape Town is my home. Always has been. But that true feeling of belonging, of collective memory, of shared moments lost to time but eternally satisfying, that true sense of foundation, of grounding doesn't come from a physical location.

It's that moment her hand seeks yours out and finds it. That moment just after your lips part after a kiss goodbye. That hug that says "everything is going to be alright". It's being in the same crowded room, apart and not even having to look at each other to know what's going on in the other's head. It can happen anywhere. It is by no means tied down to a place.

That's when you know you're home.

What Love Looks Like

There can be no mistaking the look of love.

This weekend has been a stark reminder of that. One of my best friends in the whole world, Byron Drew, tied the knot with Adél Colyn at possibly one of the coolest weddings I have ever attended. The ceremony and subsequent full-day celebration was the perfect combination of formal, relaxed and downright awesome.

Tables were decorated in a Bohemian theme, the company was great, the food exemplary and the love abundant. Exchanging their vows, I'll never forget Adél's face as she tried to restrain her tears, eyes locked with Byron's throughout the ceremony, in a mixture of admiration, love, respect and complete trust.

Later, during the speeches, a couple married for a touch over 30 years didn't catch me staring at them with admiration. The glances they shared mirrored the look Adél and Byron shared. It was inspiring stuff. My conversation with the experienced wife later that evening centred around this principle: The reasons we fall in love, are not the reasons we stay in love. I struggled to grasp the concept until I had mulled over and rationalised the concept of the evolution of love. Love evolves. But the looks remain.

It's the moment eyes meet, even fleetingly, even inappropriately, even when a lingering look is nigh impossible, that takes one's breath away. In that instant, you're lost to the world, but undeniably home. We romanticise those moments where "my eyes met yours from across the room" and until that happens, you will doubt it could exist.

Yet, it does. The moment the eyes meet, and a glance is maintained just long enough for those watching to feel a pang of jealousy that they're not being allowed into the conversation the two of you are obviously having without using words, made more beautiful by the blinked affirmation of both pairs of eyes, the too-long exhalation of breath after, the awkward shifting in one's seat, betrayed by the look of smug satisfaction that in that moment, the world belonged to just the two of you, and that in that world, you were safe from everything else.

This past weekend was a whirlwind of such looks and the realisation of the evolution of love. From one couple still young in love, but maturing in the understanding of their emotion, to a newly-wed couple yet to discover even more things to love about themselves and each other, to a couple actively working on their love even after 30 years together - the look between two lovers is unmistakable.

That's what love looks like.

Cape Town

This is an insider's perspective of an outsider's experience.

To quote Holy Scripture, I have somewhat against you, Cape Town. You are the city of my birth. The city of my growth. The city I love. But you have disappointed me.

No, not anyone in particular. Just your general you-ness. I had always thought Cape Town was the Friendly City. Having spent an inordinate amount of time in Port Elizabeth, and countless trips to Durban and Johannesburg, I find this to be somewhat of a misnomer. In fact, there are entire countries far friendlier than Cape Town's purported platonicism (here's looking at you, New Zealand).

From the lack of courtesy when we drive, the lack of engagement when queuing at a till, the inconsideration of stopping our cars right at the line when turning right so that when the light turns amber, no-one but us can continue on beyond the intersection, the way we rant on and on about the Gautengers during festive seasons, to the welcoming of guests and outsiders into our spaces, be it at work or at home... we're not exactly the friendliest bunch.

Now, I know I'm going to get plenty of backlash for saying so, in fact, I welcome it. But I feel that Capetonians are some of the most superficial, shallow and cliquey people I know. I think it was Hayibo that said it best upon the release of the hit sci-fi movie "District 9", when describing why the aliens decided to arrive in Johannesburg: "Durbanites would've been too busy putting Sharks stickers on the space craft, and Capetonians wouldn't have bothered with the aliens until it was cool enough to be seen with them" (I'm paraphrasing here).

It's this La Cosa Nostra crap that irritates me. This our thing. We other outsiders. It's us and them. We're helluva friendly to each other. We're even friendly in front of outside people. But we seem to struggle to make them feel welcome.

Nowhere is this more evident than the recent AFCON debacle. I am in no way picking sides, nor do I intend to argue for either government, local government, SAFA, the organising committee or even the tourism people who say visitors will be missing out on Cape Town's natural beauty come AFCON 2013. Let's face it, Cape Town would attract and welcome visitors anyway, AFCON of te not.

But again, it's this "this is the way we do things around here (and we'll be damned if we're forced to change)" thing that gets to me. It's an excuse I hear time and again. "This is the way we do things here". What bollocks. If "this is the way we do things here" then the Mongols would never have conquered Asia, we wouldn't still be using Latin in the modern world, hell, we might not even be cooking our food.

Cape Town, you are the city I love. I have lived nowhere else for longer than a few months. And you will hate me after this post. Why? Because your cage has been rattled. And being open and honest about ourselves sadly "isn't the way we do things around here".

It's time to buck the trend, mi amigos. Competing within the borders of this fantastic, phenomenal and promising country can only hold us back. Who cares if our traffic lights work all the time (unlike up north)? Who cares if really bad traffic means we're on the road for all of 30 minutes? We should care that our service delivery and education may be above par, but really, Cape Town... did you do that? Yourself? Or the people we voted in to ensure our City works. Stop claiming the hard work and sacrifice of others as your own before happily waving the fruits of said hard work and sacrifice in the face of others as if you've earned it.

It is entitlement, plain and simple. We are privileged to live in one of the most beautiful, vibrant and eclectic cities on earth. The least we can do is share.

Let's make sure when we invite someone in, we make them feel at home.