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By Ellie Kirby, UK, Human Rights Volunteer
Sunday was a miserable rainy cold day. My roomie and Dutchie (whose kind of my boss at the office) decided to go to Muizenberg flea market on the coast. Muizenberg is where all the cool surfer types hang out. None of the stalls we wanted to visit had turned up, there were no scarves or earrings or any such things. The gusty blustering wind blew off my little red cap which was stopping my ears from looking blue. I thought to myself...what are we doing here?
We sat in a cafe and drank coffee to warm up. We had planned the day before to go to a braai party in the township of Guguletu called Muzoli’s. Should we still go, no one seemed keen. We were close to abandoning the plan, put off by the rain. In the end we were lured along with the promise of cheap juicy meat.
Our driver dropped us off outside the restaurant. You could hear the party before you could smell it. We met up with one of Dutchie's friends, a really nice guy who showed us how it worked. It was a covered shack. It was a loud party rammed with a sea of people pulling apart charred meat with their bare hands. He found us a picnic table under the plastic cover. Showed us where to buy our 6 pack of Savannah ciders. We walked with him to the butchery where we chose our meat raw, paid for it and then took it to the smoky fires at the back to get it braaied. Even though they accidentally put my sauce on Dutchie's chicken, it was still delicious!
When I first arrived in South Africa I had a lot of TIA (this is Africa) moments. In the minibus, looking up at Table Mountain from the Projects Abroad office, meeting people, even eating dinner with my host family. Life here has become more normal and I haven't had one for a while. But being at this braai party sent little prickles down my spine and I really felt "OK, I'm in Africa!"