Inspired by Islamic Boycotts

Hi there, greetings (in whatever form) – I’m too lazy to type up the Shaloms, Sanibonanis and the Vanakums and the Goie-whatever-time-of-the-day-it-is’s …

So, I’m not much of a blogger nor an intellectual philosophical person like the Accidental Academics, the Neds, the Jhaveris and the Habib’s – I’m just a fun loving person who enjoys poking, following, updating statuses, LOLing and soon to be waving to everybody. My statuses goes as far as I would blog. Thankfully, I have a group of very intellectual friends who comment and message me, and grafitisize my virtual wall – and the lazy ones who simply like my statuses cos they know that the comments that follow will be interesting and therefore, they wanna be notified when somebody comments.

Thanks God for these intellectual and funny friends who can type up more than 500 words and make sense and open a platform for good discussions and therefore, they provide daily entertainment and education for me and many others, on the web – I could never, (ok, maybe I would – but self-esteem prevents me from doing it). I mean dude, even my FaceBook notes are copied and pasted from emails… most of them actually. I love the internet, and I’m grateful for the fact that where I work, my internet usage is not frowned upon – my bosses don’t micro-manage me (Yeay Me!) and neither do they nit-pick on every little thing I do, but rather, they are advisors and mentors… I also like the fact that where I work, I can dress as funky and as colorful as I want to (one advantage of being away from home *evil-grin*). Your blouse is never too short nor your v-necks too deep… I’m gonna stop with this immodest “kakpraat”…

So, this blog is not necessarily about the web etc – but it’s about Pick ‘n’ Pay. Yes, I shop at Pick ‘n’ Pay… I know some Muslims will wanna stone me because I’m supposed to be boycotting the Jews! Ha! My big size 8 foot!!! Yes, the Slum’O’s know how to boycott, but I’m yet to find a Muslim owned, Palestine supporting grocery store and family supermarket that has the same level-of service, respect and cleanliness as Pick ‘n’ Pay. Shoprite and Checkers are smelly, their fruit and Veggies are hardly fresh – they’re smaller, and their trolleys are sticky (eeeeeeuwwwww!)… Gosh, Muslim owned shops are even worse. Mind you, I have experienced it, and I know what I’m talking about. The difference between walking at an “Indian” shop and at walking at a non-Indian shop is that, in the former, you get the look of suspicion from the moment your toes kiss the entrance step till the moment your heels say “Amen” at the exit step… by the former, I mean Indian and by latter, I mean non-Indian. In the former shops, they don’t smile – the glasses are pushed further up the noses, and they send someone to follow you around because you’re black… Yes. I’ve been to Indian shops a helluva many times because I’m a person who does not like to reach conclusions at just one experience, but I’m a social person who likes to experiment many times before making a generalization – and so far, I’ve been looked down upon. I have Indian friends who shop at the same Indian shops and they never get the same level of low service as I do – for them it’s better, I guess one can never fully understand unless they experience it (but luckily for them, they never will cos their hair is straighter, and they’ve got less cheeks than I do)… hey hey hey, mind you, I have nothing against Indians… most of my best friends are Indians – and by friends, I don’t mean the ones who only know you at school just to copy your maths homework or in the workplace, but would never wanna be seen with you at Waffle Express; by friends, I mean those who call you up, check what you’re doing and before you know it,  you’re viewing childhood photo-albums in their lounges with their parents and listening to their toothless grandparents tell you the sentimental stories of Grey Street in a mixture of Gujarati and English, only to be called by their moms who want you to help knead the dough or help stuff the samoosas in the kitchen ‘cos you have more active hands than them, or their dads who want that special Masala Tea made by you of course – those are friends – heck, SISTERS! (and brothers) know what I’m saying??? I’ve been called Indian a million times (yes, I counted ) because of my behavioural patterns, accent, cultural preferences and the way I cook – all that is inherent from my family! Aha! Saberah was adopted by an Indian family!!! Yes, I love Indians, and I identify with them much more than I do with black people because, they are my people, my family, my advisors etc… it’s just the shopowners…

Back to the latter, now – if you walk at a Pick ‘n’ Pay, the fruit is fresh, they’re neat, well-spaced, wide variety of brands, nobody follows you around, nobody calls you “mama” (I despise that word cos I’m only 23), and there’s always someone to help you with a smile. Also, they don’t offer you the cheaper deal because, they feel that you might not be able to afford “it”, but they know that the fact that you walked into their shop means that you are a customer, not a ‘mama’ who’s going to steal their stuff and stuff it into her “c-cup” breasts. The latter never gives you rotten fruit in the midst of pretty-looking fruit.

Oh, oh, before I forget – I know most of my Durbanite friends love Caminettoes for their pizza – me too… so, when I was in Durbs, I occasionally bought pizza from Caminettoes (I always phone and place an order so that I just pick it up and not have to wait) … So, it happened several times that as Saberah Gumede, I’ll place an order over the phone and be told that it’ll be ready in 20 minutes – I’ll be there in 20 minutes only to be told to wait another 20 minutes… this prompted me to use my “adoptive” surname, RASHID when placing orders at Caminettoes – so, as Saberah Rashid, I do the same process that Saberah Gumede does: order on the phone, be told that it will be ready in 20 minutes, and Overport traffic permitting, I’m there in approximately 20 minutes and guess what? I don’t have to wait!!!! Hmm, makes one wonder – I wish I knew what was the cause of these really – obviously either way, they could never tell I was black cos I do not have a black accent. So, Debonairs it is; or Pizza Hut, or one of those fancy Italian places on Florida Road… Dammit I’m sounding like a coconut now…Gosh, I have so many of these stories – I could go on and on and on… some of you are probably wondering, well, why doesn’t she go to her black places then? Firstly, they’re far away from me and secondly, because the Muslim owned shops have comfortably Halaal stock and thirdly, I do shop wherever I want to and yes, I do go to different places and the experiences are different… and I hope that highlighted my point of why I would rather shop at P ‘n’ P where I’m simply a customer and I get the “Thank you ma’am” and not the “hey’wena mama” – yes, at P ‘n’ P they speak to you in proper, well-versed English because, they assume that you’re on the same level as that Suburbian Housewife who wears pearls, speaks English and understands it… please don’t get me wrong, not all Indian shops are the same.. But most are (especially in Durbs). So far, shopping in Lens has been mixed, some treat you as their Durban counter parts and some treat you as their customer… and I love the CII shop at Trade Route Mall for that… however, the sad thing is that these “Jewish” owned shops have a greater level of service and respect than the former… Yes, I sometimes find it hypocritical that they hold placards over one bearded Indian who was stripped at an airport for looking Middle Eastern whereas, our own Muslim brothers are doing it to their fellow Nationals (giving the suspicious look, treating you as an inferior, following you around)… Sometimes, I’m evil enough to think “well, now you know how it feels”. (I’m hoping that the Accidental Academic doesn’t find offence in that because, I know he’s open minded and doesn’t deserve any of the treatment he received when he was gallivanting in Europe) .Yes, it’s humiliating when I walk into a shop with my Indian sister and I’m told “mama, shiya lo’bag lapha front – leave your bag in the front” and when I ask them why doesn’t she have to leave her bag in the front I’m told – hers is smaller (or some stupid excuse) – I’m still waiting for someone to tell me that we can see through her bag, so its ok.

Yes, South Africa is a very violent place and crime is one of our professions – yes, even I am paranoid (I didn’t even open the door for those trick or treating kids who’re celebrating Halloween)… but, the best thing is for one to get a CCTV camera just like P ‘n’ P (P ‘n’ P also gets robbed), treat everyone as a customer  - the fact that they walk into your shop means that they have enough money to afford some of the items on your shelf, and please – clean up your shops, also, please check the expiry dates on items… for me, as a person who’s paying for the items, I expect a good level of services as you show to anyone else… I don’t know how it was like to live during apartheid areas, but I sure do know what it’s like to be a victim of racial profiling. Just like most South African, I’m an optimist, a dreamer and a romanticist – and I sometimes wish we were all blind so that we wouldn’t see race or skin colour, but rather judged people on their views opinion and attitudes toward the world and everything else that matters (or doesn’t matter). Yes, I’m optimistic and positive enough to know that my open-minded friends and open-minded readers would see the article for what it is… Yes, this is a non-racial piece of writing, but it’s just my thoughts and a reflection of my experiences… I have nothing against any group of people, but, when a majority of a group of people are being unjust to one group of people, then it must be brought to light – just like how we’re bringing to light a group of Israelis who’re being unjust to a group of Palestinians.

Yes, I’ve had more positive experiences with a Indian people, I mean , after all, they’re my family, friends, flatmates and this blog forbids you from making any generalizations about Indians otherwise you’ll have me to deal with. Yes, I want to be at the frontline against racial stereotyping and generalizing, but it’s not easy when people see you for your race… I could write a thesis about why I love Indians and I will – watch this space… yes, I’m always being told of being “too Indian” on a daily basis – I make good curries, speak some Hindi and Urdu and damn, my rotis are rounder than my butt…

So there…

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