The Kindness of Strangers
A group of strangers saved me from having a very miserable Christmas away from home.
It was Christmas, 1973. I was in Cape Town, South Africa after travelling for three months overland from the UK to India and then by ship to Durban with a South African friend. Unfortunately on arrival in South Africa I was made to pay for a ticket out of the country, and as I had arrived by ship, the ticket had to be by ship. My cheapest option was from Durban to Mombasa – it took practically all my money and I hoped I never had to use it!
Arriving in the Mother City I was staying with my friend’s family in the southern suburbs. Due to my financial crisis I had to get work quickly and I managed to get a temporary job in the lovely pink coloured historic hotel in the city, The Mount Nelson, doing flower arrangements of all things. No-one can say I was not adaptable. As it was Christmas we were very busy with table arrangements and huge floral displays for the suites and public areas. It was hard work, but quite enjoyable and the best part was walking to and from the railway station through the Gardens with the cheeky squirrels.
Christmas Eve arrived and I was looking forward to spending my first Christmas away from home. The family were originally from Norway so this was the night for their main dinner and celebrations. It would be very different from my own experiences. It was very different alright, but not quite in the way I had imagined. On arriving at the house in the suburbs I was met by the mother with my rucksack in hand. She told me I was not welcome in her house any more as she had friends and family coming to dinner that evening and I was too ‘common’ and didn’t have the ‘right’ clothes to wear. I was gobsmacked! Christmas Eve and out on my ear! Her son, my travelling friend, took me to a youth hostel in Muizenberg where they fortunately had a vacancy. He dropped me off then left as he had to return to his family dinner. Thinking of the hospitality my own family had shown him in England, I felt quite saddened and rather home-sick. I turned in early as I still had to go to work the next day.
I returned to the hostel on Christmas Day at around 6 p.m. to find other hostellers sitting around having Christmas dinner: they were all talking loudly and wearing silly hats, being happy and having a good time. I tried to sneak through to the dorm without being noticed as I was still feeling a bit raw, but the manager caught sight of me and insisted that I joined them, even though I hadn’t contributed to the meal. Quickly room was made for another seat and food hurriedly dished out onto a plate. Silly hat was found and a glass of red wine poured. For the next couple of hours I was welcomed into the fold and a normal Christmas was resumed.
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