Unforgettable Encounters: Navigating Unique Cultural Quirks in South Africa and Zimbabwe

During our extended stay in the vibrant landscapes of South Africa, I diligently maintained a detailed log of peculiar occurrences, amusing incidents, and the subtle yet distinct differences in day-to-day activities compared to our home country. While many of these observations might resonate with travelers globally, a significant portion was uniquely South African, offering fascinating glimpses into the local culture. Each anecdote, though not substantial enough to warrant an entire blog post on its own, collectively paints a vivid picture of our immersive experience and the charming idiosyncrasies we encountered.

The Curious Case of the “Busted!” Slip: A Traffic Stop Mystery

Our friends from the United States were visiting, and we were eager to share a piece of South African culture with them: the critically acclaimed film “District 9.” To do this, we decided to get a membership at a local video store, a decision we had contemplated for some time. Our visit to the store, however, revealed surprisingly stringent rules. To secure a membership, my fiancé was required to present both his passport and student ID. Since he didn’t have these documents with him, we embarked on a quick round trip home and back to fulfill the requirements, finally securing the movie we so desperately wanted to watch. Another crucial rule: the film had to be returned by noon the following day, or we would incur an additional day’s charge, a small fee equivalent to about fifty cents, but one we preferred to avoid.

The next day, with our sight-seeing plans already underway, we found ourselves cutting it close to return the video. We were rushing, with only about five minutes left until the noon deadline, navigating a busy four-lane highway. Suddenly, we noticed several cars pulled over by traffic police. My fiancé, attempting to merge lanes and observe the situation, was unexpectedly flagged down by one of the officers. Confusion immediately set in. Traffic had been heavy, making speeding impossible; we were all wearing our seatbelts. We couldn’t fathom the reason for the stop.

The officer approached my fiancé’s window, his expression unreadable. “Do you know why I stopped you?” he inquired. My fiancé, genuinely bewildered, replied, “No, Officer.” The officer then pressed, “Why are you so nervous?” My fiancé reiterated, “I just don’t know why we’re being pulled over.” Following this cryptic exchange, the officer requested, “License, please.”

At this point, a wave of apprehension washed over me. The officer’s demeanor was far from reassuring, and he provided absolutely no information regarding the reason for our stop. We speculated whether it was a random roadblock, given that other vehicles were also being pulled over. Being stopped by law enforcement in an unfamiliar country, especially without our passports on hand, was an inherently unnerving experience. The feeling of vulnerability was palpable.

Eventually, the officer returned, not with a formal ticket, but with a peculiar slip of paper emblazoned with the word, “Busted!” My fiancé, still confused, asked for clarification, but the officer simply instructed us to read it later and allowed us to proceed. My fiancé attempted to inquire if it was a ticket or a citation, but the officer merely repeated his instruction to read it later. Puzzled, we drove off, and I immediately retrieved the slip. It contained a list of driving infractions, along the lines of: “Busted! Don’t drive recklessly, talk on the phone while driving, or drive without your seatbelt.” It was an oddly executed, rather inappropriate, and poorly designed public service announcement. Far from educating us, it succeeded only in scaring us and making us late for our video return. Even now, the memory of that bizarre encounter evokes a sense of bewilderment.

An American Star in South Africa: The Story of Sixto Rodriguez

For the majority of our stay in South Africa, we enjoyed the services of Acker Car Rentals, an excellent company that provided us with an incredibly competitive deal. Our positive experience with them was noteworthy, and I believe in acknowledging good service. There were specific periods, however, when my fiancé’s academic commitments, such as intensive thesis work or a demanding class schedule, meant we wouldn’t require a rental car. During these months, if we wished to explore or dine out, we relied on taxis, which fortunately proved to be both highly affordable and readily available.

One evening, as we prepared for a delightful night out at the V&A Waterfront, we hailed a taxi. Our driver for the evening was exceptionally gregarious, eager to share his perspectives, particularly his amusing critiques of American customs. He posed rhetorical questions like, “You Americans have a funny word for petrol. It’s not a gas, so why do you call it gas? It’s petrol!” and pointed out linguistic differences, “Here, do you know what we call the back part of the car? It’s a boot! You call it a trunk.” These playful observations set a lighthearted tone for our journey.

However, it quickly became evident that the topic he was most passionate about, and most excited to share with us, revolved around one of his favorite musical artists. With a hint of playful grievance, he declared, “I do have a bone to pick with you Americans. You had a star in your midst and you didn’t even know it.”

He then launched into the captivating narrative of Sixto Rodriguez, a story that many might now be familiar with thanks to the acclaimed documentary “Searching for Sugar Man.” Rodriguez, a singer-songwriter from Detroit, released a couple of albums in the late 1960s and early 1970s that, despite their artistic merit, failed to achieve significant commercial success in his home country. Miraculously, one of these albums found its way to South Africa—the exact circumstances remain shrouded in various intriguing tales—and there, it unexpectedly exploded in popularity. In fact, a compilation album of his work went Platinum, cementing his status as a cultural icon. South Africans revered Rodriguez, placing him in the esteemed company of legendary musicians like Bob Dylan and Cat Stevens. The sheer irony was that while he was a superstar in apartheid-era South Africa, providing a soundtrack of hope and defiance, he remained largely unknown and unappreciated in his native America.

Despite our destination being a good fifteen-minute drive away, we eventually had to politely interrupt our driver to disembark. He found it utterly baffling that Rodriguez had not received the recognition he deserved in the United States and, even more incredulously, that my fiancé and I were not familiar with his music, let alone avid fans. Interestingly, we happened to get the same taxi driver for another trip later on. While he still shared his quick, witty quips about American peculiarities, that particular drive was too brief for him to resume his passionate discourse on the legendary Rodriguez a second time. It was a memorable encounter that perfectly illustrated the unexpected cultural crossovers one can discover while traveling.

“I’ll Be With You Just Now”: A Linguistic Conundrum

This particular linguistic nuance was a lesson my fiancé had to learn through a rather amusing, albeit initially confusing, personal experience. A few days into his academic program, he needed to meet with an individual at the University. Upon arriving at her office, she greeted him warmly and informed him that she would “be with him now.” Interpreting this literally, as an American would, he naturally walked into her office and proceeded to sit down. She then gently corrected him, emphasizing, “No, I’ll be with you now,” with a subtle but firm inflection. My fiancé, looking visibly confused, quickly understood the unspoken instruction that he should, in fact, leave the office and wait outside. He patiently waited until she called him in for their scheduled meeting.

We later discovered the fascinating and somewhat perplexing temporal semantics of South African English. In this context, “now” doesn’t actually mean immediately; it signifies “shortly.” “Just now,” ironically, means “eventually,” implying a later, unspecified time. And for something truly immediate, South Africans employ the phrase “now now,” which finally means, well, “right now.” This intricate system of temporal expressions, we mused, seemed almost deliberately designed to playfully confound foreigners, adding another layer of charm and challenge to navigating daily conversations.

The Pervasive Image of Mugabe: A Glimpse into Zimbabwean Politics

For those unfamiliar with the recent political history of the region, Robert Mugabe served as the president of Zimbabwe for a significant period. Zimbabwe, like its neighbor South Africa, possesses a complex and unique political narrative, particularly concerning its transition from white minority rule to liberation. Their journey towards democracy unfolded in the late 1970s and early 1980s, with Mugabe emerging as the country’s first freely elected prime minister. In 1988, he consolidated power by merging the positions of president and prime minister, effectively granting himself greater authority. He remained at the helm, either as prime minister or president, since 1980. Throughout his tenure, numerous accusations of corruption, electoral manipulation, and egregious abuse of power marred his leadership, casting a long shadow over the nation’s political landscape.

Beyond allegations of corruption, Zimbabwe has faced severe criticisms regarding institutionalized violations of human rights. Civil liberties are significantly curtailed, making it nearly impossible for citizens to freely assemble for peaceful demonstrations, for journalists to report without fear of reprisal, or even for everyday people to express their opinions openly. Journalists and ordinary citizens who dared to speak out against the government and Mugabe were often subjected to horrific insults and threats by the Zimbabwean police, creating an atmosphere of fear and self-censorship.

It was against this backdrop, just before our departure for a trip to the magnificent Victoria Falls, that my fiancé delivered a chilling piece of advice: “Oh yeah, don’t say anything bad about Mugabe while we’re there.” He then proceeded to explain the full extent of the political climate and the dangers of speaking freely in Zimbabwe. This warning served as a slightly terrifying introduction to a country where we were about to spend several nights, instilling a sense of caution and unease before we had even crossed the border.

Upon our arrival at the hotel in Zimbabwe, we were greeted by a sight that was both mildly entertaining and profoundly unsettling. Above the check-in desk, prominently displayed, was a framed photograph of Robert Mugabe:

What made this particularly striking was the absence of any other artwork or decorative elements in that space. It was a singular, deliberate display. Imagine walking into a hotel lobby in the United States and encountering a framed photograph of the sitting president prominently displayed above the front desk, without any other context or artistic flourish. It’s an image I find genuinely difficult to conjure. This simple photo spoke volumes about the political reverence, or perhaps enforced respect, for the leader in Zimbabwe.

None of these specific observations about Mugabe or the political climate were included in my earlier Victoria Falls post. At the time, I felt it prudent not to openly criticize a powerful figure while physically present in a country bordering his. Now, safely situated 10,000 miles away, I can openly share these reflections and perhaps, even chuckle at the absurdity of some of these encounters.

The Unexpected Joy of Movie Theater Popcorn

I feel compelled to include this small detail because popcorn holds a special place in my heart. My relationship with this salty snack is deeply personal; I enjoy it probably three or four nights a week, and a significant portion of my excitement when heading to a movie theater is dedicated to indulging in the extra-buttery version. It’s also worth noting that my fiancé and I are avid moviegoers, frequenting cinemas quite often.

Stepping into our first movie theater in South Africa filled me with a particular sense of anticipation. At this point in our travels, I was experiencing a touch of homesickness, and going to the movies felt like a comforting, familiar ritual. We queued up at the concessions stand, where we were pleasantly surprised to discover that a generous combo of popcorn, a soda, and candy cost the equivalent of approximately $6. When I placed our popcorn order, I instinctively added, “with butter, please!” as was my usual habit. The server paused, looking slightly confused, but ultimately brushed off my request and handed me a dry box of popcorn. It was then that I noticed the absence of those ubiquitous pump-dispensers, the ones that squirt out the mysteriously liquid “butter” topping we were accustomed to.

Taking our popcorn, we proceeded toward our theater, and along the way, we spotted a series of bar-height tables adorned with an array of different flavored salts. A lightbulb moment! We quickly realized that this was the South African method for flavoring popcorn. And you know what? A generous dusting of butter-flavored salt is surprisingly, deliciously good on popcorn. By the time our stay in South Africa concluded, my fiancé had become a true connoisseur, mastering the art of shaking the popcorn boxes just so, ensuring an even distribution of the flavorful salt throughout. And, for the record, we visited four different movie theaters, operated by various companies, during our time there, and this unique flavor-your-own popcorn drill was consistently the standard at every single one. It was a delightful adaptation to a simple pleasure.

Living with Load Shedding: Power Outages as a Way of Life

If you hail from California, the concept of “load shedding” might already be a familiar one. However, prior to our arrival in South Africa, it was an entirely foreign term to me. A few months into our stay, the power in our residential complex abruptly went out. In Oregon, where I’m from, a power outage typically signals a storm or a fallen power line. Yet, this particular day in Cape Town was perfectly sunny, with temperatures soaring to a balmy 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Perplexed, I headed to the security desk to inquire about the situation. The security guards, equally bewildered, simply stated, “I don’t know, they must have shut the power off.” My fiancé and I soon learned that Eskom, the government-owned power company and the country’s sole electricity provider, frequently faces supply shortages. To manage demand and conserve power during these critical periods, they implement “rolling blackouts” or “load shedding” across various regions.

The situation escalated significantly a few weeks before our departure. Eskom began scheduling two-hour load shedding sessions on Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays, and occasionally Mondays, due to an outage at one of the country’s major power plants. I cannot adequately express how incredibly disruptive and annoying this became. It wasn’t merely the inconvenience of occupying ourselves without electricity for two hours; the real frustration lay in the horrendous impact it had on our internet connection each time the power went down. Essentially, this meant three to four days a week with virtually no reliable internet access. For me, working remotely as an online blogger, and for my fiancé, a student striving to complete his thesis, this intermittent power supply presented an immense challenge to productivity and workflow.

Load shedding isn’t just a nuisance for ordinary citizens like my fiancé and me; it carries severe implications for businesses and the broader economy. Restaurants are unable to prepare meals requiring stove-top cooking, grocery stores struggle to maintain refrigeration for perishable goods, and, most critically, this chronic instability poses a serious threat to South Africa’s economic health. Eskom itself is reportedly seeking an estimated $20 million bailout to sustain its operations, and consumers are bracing for an almost 13% increase in their electricity tariffs. This persistent issue demands urgent and effective solutions from the South African government to ensure stable power supply and support economic growth.

And so, those were some of the most prominent and memorable cultural differences and situational quirks we encountered. I am certain that over time, other small details will resurface in my memory, and I might revisit this to add them. The political and cultural landscape of South Africa, and indeed the broader region, is rich with a million nuances, far too many to cover comprehensively in one account. Thank you for allowing me to share these deeply personal and often illuminating experiences from our time abroad.