Sprawl, loosely organised.
Lack of basic comforts, tinned food, preservatives.
Lots of walking, biking if you’re lucky.
Dust. Swagger. Orchestrated chaos.
The above description is ironically fitting for two wildly different experiences in ya booi’s life.
One a very — Really quite — upmarket joll in the middle of nowhere. Not gonna snitch, cause for all the shade I’m about to imply at it, it’s a very good time.
One a very — Really quite — low-end living situation, of Cape Town, Khayelitsha. Although up and coming is still in the upper echelon of reasons our Gini Coefficient is ,well, in the upper echelons.
This connection draws a peculiar little observation out.
Perhaps, just perhaps, money isn’t everything. Perhaps its drawing dividing lines between us. Perhaps. Perhaps.
Fuck dude, i’m all of 2* so I’m not claiming any knowledge about this shit. But more and more I’m noticing, the funny little habit of those with more, to explore the lives of those with less. Materially that is.
I mean its the timeworn classic of traveling third world countries to find yourself. Hello India. Or the cornerstone of the popular reality TV show, Survivor.
Now, the first place I noticed this drive was in fact within myself. So let that clear any airs of moral superiority I may be weaving. But I’m bitter about it, and for the life of me cannot figure it out.
Some conjecture I’ve come to is perhaps its the seemingly insincere methodology with which these lifestyle experiments are run, with one foot still in their comfort zone.
Examples of which that come to mind is the use of paid labor in an area/experiment which is to be run on the basis of radical self-reliance.
Ok bitch over.
Perhaps, I’ve got a touch of purism and need to lighten up.