At night it started to become cold. George lit a fire for the braai. I stayed outside with him when he turned a piece of lamb every 10 seconds. He said he would count silently. This was the best way to keep it juicy, he made clear and differentiated from his friends who carelessly put it . . . → Read More: Love beyond male stereotypes?
I was tired from a night spent in the air high above Africa. Still I wanted to accompany the couple to the mall where I had to check what happened to my rental car. I hoped that he George would have a car to make a quick turn to the next shopping mall but he didn’t. . . . → Read More: Being a poor ‘Whitey’
It was a cool and grey spring afternoon in Berlin when I started my trip to South Africa. “Are you going to be there for the world cup?” asked the taxi driver on the way to the airport. As we drove down the city highway a song played on the radio struck my attention. “Wann ist . . . → Read More: The rogue male