Today is just like last Monday, and the Monday before, and I’m assuming the Monday after this. This is my first office job. I am officially a nine to fiver. A grown up in my own right.  

Society tells me that being grown up is having reached the age of maturity. To be grown up means having the characteristics that are suitable for adults. An adult, you say? That is certainly not me. A girl trying to find her way, maybe, but an adult? This I can’t comprehend.

Independence 

It’s been around 142 days, seven hours and 27 minutes since I declared independence from my comfort zone. I come from a Jewish home in what I have labelled the Jewish ghetto, also known as Glenhazel, and I never went without. 

I lived with a father who was melting my confidence down and smearing it all over his ego. We were two fire signs parading around in a large, empty (he calls it minimal) home with no eye-to-eye vision.

Both stubborn, and both aggressive when provoked, was detrimental to my sanity. From the age of 15 I knew life was beyond being labelled white trash by a father whom my rage was feeding off and constantly doubting my ability to make a life of my own.

Looking for a Challenge 

I craved a life with challenges and this is exactly what was given to me - a new city, an unknown environment and a desire to write my heart out till I was noticed. Using words attached to my unhappiness, I decided it was time to move on out. I was drained by the attempt of lonely love and arguments about my future.  

Instead of a hug, I was bought a plasma television. Instead of a conversation, I was kicked out onto the streets. Instead of support, I was belittled for the opportunities I wanted to explore.

Packing up 

My most favoured and realest friend was leaving for Cape Town. In an impulsive effort, I packed my friend’s Aldous Huxley, Thom Woolfe, Hunter S Thompson and Haruki Marukami to come along with me for a new adventure. A pillow and my ten rand oddment clothes came as well.

Cape Town, She Calls 

In the last five years, I had built up a support system and invested time in people like they were my very own children. After five years, it was time to leave. I ‘ummed and aahed’ the decision to move and slowly started making excuses to stay. My despair for leaving what I thought I had created in Joburg disappeared when my vision overtook my presence. 

It was time to detach myself from the uncomfortable safety I had created, and find a happiness I explored but knew nothing about. I said goodbye to my dysfunctional family, who I would have picked over anyone, my friends from different worlds and my hometown. It was time for Cape Town. She was calling me. 

Start of an Adventure

I knew that in any moment being by the ocean and the mountains would take me out of the anxiety I dwell in on a daily basis, and let myself embrace liberty. 

I arrived with boxes, a bruised heart from years of futile beginnings, and sat next to my favourite person for the start of our adventure.

I had nothing but my enthusiasm attached to me, but I was ready to conquer this new life I wished to not only exist in, but live too. I wished to be with me, present and aware, so I could fulfil the concept of being grown up. To find my maturity would be a process.

Residence  

This city is a whole other culture in the way it is constructed. All the locals believe you can judge your direction by the angle of the mountain. I could not even find my inner dialogue, never mind the direction. I started my stay at Penthouse backpackers in Long Street. This was by far the best way to move into a new city.  

With a six storey structure, I decided to explore the area. My first night in Cape Town set the tone for my new hometown. The bar breathed for all who travelled. It was held up by Jolly the bartender, who welcomed me to his city. We interacted with foreign conversations with human folk, literature and harmonies.

A New Way of Life – An Outsider, an Observer 

To believe I would make it immediately was naive. Being on your own, in a new city with no support structure and a lack of funds, is tough. As I arrived, so did the World Cup. I started a waitressing/bartending job at a quirky restaurant in Long Street – the hub of all things lively and happening. I had never waitressed before. There was never a need to. However, I had to make money and this was my plan to do it.  

The managers and kitchen staff never took my mistakes gently, which I was constantly reminded of. I was good with the customers and got tips three meals a day. Pity the other waitresses weren’t huge fans. With names like Istar, Fani and Storm – Tamara in the mix wasn’t Capetonian or eccentric enough. The pride of lionesses I worked with hunted the manager down to inform him of my inability to impress them. I was told to leave and stick to my cubicle outdoors. 

The Office

I stuck to the outside bar, collecting silvers and making new connections. It was my blessing and their loss. Once the hype of the World Cup brewed over, I died with it. I found a job I always thought I wanted and began inhabiting an air-conditioned office.

Mondays when I arrived in Cape Town were spent exploring my new city and networking. Back then I had my wings on. Today I sit in a space that stifles my ears and dries my eyes out.

Origin versus the Present 

In the time I have been here, I have developed the most intimate relationship with Cape Town. The mountains make me blush and the sea gives my heart hiccups. I live here to be, and not just to do. My father always told me to grow up and stop being lazy. 

My car was taken away – I walk everywhere. I earn no salary as of yet. I have currently just moved into my third place since I have been here. I have lost four phones. I use the Internet café to post my words through, and I am doing it all for myself. I use ‘I’ with such sincere pride.  

I never thought I would be able to survive independence for this long and, yes, I am still doing it, with a heavy heart sometimes, but a continuous smile. I am using the fine details of my life and moving on to what ‘grown-up’ means to me -to be free.