The City Lives!
I realised not long ago that I never appreciated my city until I left and came back.
Something that struck me while travelling was that people from Durban or Johannesburg, when asked where they’re from, always reply, “South Africa”. Capetonians will, without exception, say, “Cape Town”.
A friend of mine half-jokingly says that if South Africa went to war he would think twice about getting involved, but if Cape Town went to war he would be among the first to sign up. It is this slightly skewed form of patriotism that makes our city unique in South Africa.
There are only a few cities in the world where the citizens feel linked to it in an almost genetic, almost spiritual way – where the people of that city feel as though they have the streets and buildings, the good and bad running under their skin.
Cape Town is one of those cities.
The stone and grime and crime don’t just belong to an individual – the city has a soul that is made up of the thousands of souls that inhabit it. The amalgamation of these minds and spirits possesses the avenues and structures like a ghost, a mist that swirls in through the windows and cracks and animates it all!
The city becomes more than the sum of these souls; it becomes something different. The city lives – it has a mood and voice; it has flashes of inspiration and bouts of depression. We speak through the city as the city speaks through us.
Our thoughts and actions are like seeds that we plant in the place we call home. We grow our city.
The grumbles from Durbanites and Joburgers about our cliques, our attitude and how we’re always banging on about our mountain betray their lack of connectedness with their own habitats.
Our Mother City is not something that we long to “get away from” for a holiday – we take off from work at 2.30 on a Friday to spend quality time with her.
For Capetonians this is not just a place, it is an extension of our lives and voices and hearts. When the city is hurt we are hurt. When it lifts its head in glory our heads are lifted with it.
Everything we are was grown within the womb of this Mother City and although some leave her side for adventures on other shores, we always feel the same warmth and love when we return to her embrace.
Something that struck me while travelling was that people from Durban or Johannesburg, when asked where they’re from, always reply, “South Africa”. Capetonians will, without exception, say, “Cape Town”.
A friend of mine half-jokingly says that if South Africa went to war he would think twice about getting involved, but if Cape Town went to war he would be among the first to sign up. It is this slightly skewed form of patriotism that makes our city unique in South Africa.
There are only a few cities in the world where the citizens feel linked to it in an almost genetic, almost spiritual way – where the people of that city feel as though they have the streets and buildings, the good and bad running under their skin.
Cape Town is one of those cities.
The stone and grime and crime don’t just belong to an individual – the city has a soul that is made up of the thousands of souls that inhabit it. The amalgamation of these minds and spirits possesses the avenues and structures like a ghost, a mist that swirls in through the windows and cracks and animates it all!
The city becomes more than the sum of these souls; it becomes something different. The city lives – it has a mood and voice; it has flashes of inspiration and bouts of depression. We speak through the city as the city speaks through us.
Our thoughts and actions are like seeds that we plant in the place we call home. We grow our city.
The grumbles from Durbanites and Joburgers about our cliques, our attitude and how we’re always banging on about our mountain betray their lack of connectedness with their own habitats.
Our Mother City is not something that we long to “get away from” for a holiday – we take off from work at 2.30 on a Friday to spend quality time with her.
For Capetonians this is not just a place, it is an extension of our lives and voices and hearts. When the city is hurt we are hurt. When it lifts its head in glory our heads are lifted with it.
Everything we are was grown within the womb of this Mother City and although some leave her side for adventures on other shores, we always feel the same warmth and love when we return to her embrace.
