As I put together this blog post I’m leaning against a wall at Tandoor. That Rastafari place in Yeoville where people get together to drink and socialise and watch soccer games like they are currently doing (a game between the Congo and South Africa), as I put together this blog post.
I’m here with my classmate, Bongi, because we were supposed to video record an artist performing infront of a crowd.
Wednesdays are open-mike nights at Tandoor. I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that this artist has gone MIA or that the fact that it turns out that we cannot record anyway, even if the performer had pitched. The manager at Tandoor assured us that he would organise everything for us and, well, he didn’t bother. So we’re here, hoping for some kind to miracle four days before deadline.
Truth is, miracles seldomly occur and I suppose things don’t always go to plan. So we’re watching the game, pretending to show real interest but more than anything (including my Safety) I’m worried that my weave will wake up with the smell of smoke in it. If you have a weave, you’ll know that cigarette smoke is the the bain of weaves. It’s a monster to wash out.
Apart from this smoke though, it is really discouraging when people give you their word to assist you and then they just go back on it. It has happened a few times during this In-depth journey and I can only hope that things will finally come together. That happens right? Even in the last minute? Surely hard work, effort and commitment pay off?
I’m learning in this final stretch to becoming a good journalist that people can disappoint you, what business do they have caring about whether or not I get my degree? What’s important is to move on and do so quickly, finding a plan B and making it work.