I would not change my childhood for anything in the world. I grew up in the ghetto, the hood, the township. Although I spent most of my days being chased by dogs, nursing a cut or walking around with salt at night  in fear of Tokoloshes or Pinky Pinky.

 I sometimes envy my relatives and friends who dont know whats it like being woken up at 5h00 on a Saturday morining by a neighbor who wants to borrow sugar, milk and three tea bags. These people actually have no limts when it comes to borrowing I have a friend borrowed a bikini one sunny December morning. Shocked I asked her what she needed it for and she boldly told me that there is a beach trip and she knows I have  ROXY bikini she wouldnt mind wearing (Shoot me for investing in my Decembers!)

Days were short and nights were too long back then. I could not wait to wake up. Play in the sand, play Jam Alley and play Generations. Oh and how I dreaded being called home for a bath afterwards.

Living there got less pleasant as I grew up. All thanks to one word: NEIGHBORS!

Its a Saturday morning and all you want to do is study for an upcoming  accounting test you are writting on Monday but not so... The neighbor on your left is throwing out furniture because of a squabble he had with his wife about the new leadership in the ANC. The neighhbor on your  right has taken his DVD speakers out, Playing his house music on maximum while mowing the lawn the neighbors on your far right are having a braai and no you are not bitter because you were not invited, its just rude having a braai!

We even had a neighbor who would throw a fit if you saw him sitting on his stoep reading ILANGA and you made the fatal mistake of not greeting him. He once chased around his neice with a sjambok around the neighborhood because she drank his juice.

It wouldnt of been the ghetto without all the conspiracy theories about witchraft and the real reason so and so's son dissappeared from the face of the earth. My favourite one had to be when the well known business man died. Kids loved him, women threw themselves at him and the men: well go figure. It was one of the worse times for his family and the neighborhood. You could hear the drunkards wallpwing in self pity, where they going to get loans from. His mansion was later repossesed by the bank leaving his wife and children on the streets (well not really, ghetto folk make a plan) I was not really surprised when we later heard that he is actually living it up in Spain with his newlyfound  protege.

I am going to make better memories though, whereever I go. My life there although not glamourous and fabulous was funfilled and full of lessons. The two best lessons I will treasure: Sometimes life is best not taken too seriously and oh YES! never leave your washing out during the night.