OK, I admit it, I’m a South African

23Jun08

Reactions to me being a South African in different parts of Europe are varied. If I could give a name to a spatter of everyday people grouped by their facial expressions in the moments when I reveal my nationality, it would have to be ‘Surprise Labuschagne.’ Pronounced La-bu-shey. It’s clear the suprise factor is largely to do with the freckled creamy skin, green eyes and blond-brown hair I sport, which just don’t make sense when the word Afrique passes my lips. As they till their heads looking quizzically at me, I try to pronounce the ‘de Sud’ part so there’s no confusion, but it doesn’t always clear things up.

I usually take time to explain the situation to the Suprise Labuschagne’s, so I can make things easier for any future freckled SAfricans visiting these shores. Nelson Mandela? I ask, batting my eyelids… Yes yes of course, they know him, ‘he’s South African!’ they beam, feeling less confuzzed. Apartheid? I ask, with a patient teacher look on my face… Yes yes, a little less smiley now… but wondering where it’s leading. So you remember the story: arrogant group of people that look the same make the lives of another group of different looking people a living hell because they think they’re better than them? Oui, oui they nod frantically, not sure where to look. I rub the skin on my arm, which is not as tanned as I’d like it to be considering it’s ‘mid-summer’. “I’m not one of ‘them’, but I’m from there.” Ah, they say. Were you born there? I tell them yes, in Johannesburg. Looking down at their watch and then deep into my eyes, they try out some English. ‘Nice to meet you’.

My accent means I am often asked by someone or the other about my nationality. When answering, I occasionally observe a telling clear flash of dark recognition followed by a flick of the eyes and a firm setting of the chin. Rather than giving up precious croissant-chasing time, on this cue, I sometimes ’spot’ a make-believe friend in the distance whom I wave at frenetically, excusing myself. Other times, I listen to how two weeks of holiday time were dedicated to building a house in Afrique. I ask them where and they tell me their tale, as I follow the ebb and flow of their liquid words in a tropical land far away.

Thinking about it, somehow I prefer Suprise Labuschagne’s.

Filed under: Nationality   |  Leave a Comment
Tags: "afrique du sud", "south African in Europe", "south african", belgium, europe, french