Homeward Bound

Well, all good things must come to an end, and I'm excited to be returning home. Not much to report. Did not do too much Sunday. I went with Ima shopping at the Hypermarket. Who can remember Raleigh St., at the intersecting corner where OK Bazaars once stood. There would always be some blind musician, disadvantaged, out of luck, love and most everything else, strumming his guitar in a uniquely South African style singing township standards hoping that the few worthless coins he collected in his cup (You remember, black on the inside up to its rim and the outside painted metallic white) would buy him his meager rations of mielie and pap. I have fond memories of just that because, for me, the music was special. Akin to the American blues of old, they sang mournfully with tremendous soul, longing and tremendous raw talent - often strumming on a guitar missing strings. Imagine my excitement as we left the parking lot to enter the Hypermarket when I spotted such a scene from afar. The same blind guy, white walking stick by his side, same guitar, same cup at his feet. I could not wait to get a little closer to soak up a little of what was. But as I neared and could make out what he was singing, I was disappointed to find that this old chap was belting out American pop songs. Huh?! Whasup??!!! I was pissed. I want the old South Africa back. Like before Soweteans had TV where they now watch American Idol. I wanted to slap this guy in the face. I wanted to tell him that if he wanted my rands, he's going to have to sing some stuff that would make Madiba proud. Oh well.

Late Sunday afternoon we went to DJ's for dinner. Much like Famous Pita on Coney, but a lot cleaner. Famous still has the best Felafel balls and schwarma though. Of note was the girl behind the counter. Her name was 'Tzedoka'. No S--t. Picture the scene (actually happened) when Aba needed more ice. He would shout across three tables, "Oh Tzedoka, more ice please". Turns out she's from some village and her name is really Charity.

Later on I went to Torah Academy for mincha. I found the place depressing. Not sure why.

This morning, Monday, I went to the office with Aba. Hung out there a little and then Seneq, ...I mean Mishek took me home. (That was for you, Dini.) Then I took some photos of the house - the kids wanted to get a taste. I rummaged through some old stuff. Wondering if I should take back my old rubber stamp. The one that has Avremi Gourarie, 35 Observatory Ave etc. Probably useless now. I found a file of old correspondence. My buddy Robin Shifrin is going to get quite a kick out of reading old letters he wrote to me. I tried to appropriate some old photos of Ima back in the day. There's an envelope labeled "Not for album" and knew there has got to be some great stuff in it. The Bnei Akiva era (Or was it Shomer Hatzair?, I forget). But Ima would have none of it. No photos for me. Oh well.

I'm glad I made the trip.

Gotta go and stuff all that dried fruit in my suitcase...

Later...