The Further Adventures of an Idiot Abroad (29 page)

I could see they were getting a bit bored so I asked if they wanted to play on the BMX bikes I’d seen on the way in. This news perked them up. I taught them a few tricks I used to do when
I was their age. I thought I gave them some good advice. I suppose if even one or two take any notice maybe I’ve helped them. I could still do the tricks I used to do 20-odd years ago, so it
goes to show my brain remembers how to do things I enjoy doing.

Sepo said my day wasn’t over. My help was needed to build a new home for a local resident. We picked up a new £500 shelter that Ricky and Stephen had paid for, and now they wanted me
to build it. We drove deeper into the township. The deeper we drove, the tighter and rougher the roads seem to get and the closer together the shacks became. The fella I was building the shack for
was ill, but Sepo said he was on the mend. He lived in a single-roomed shack, eight by twelve feet, with a woman and three young kids. They had already removed their few possessions – a bed,
a couple of cupboards, blankets and plates – so that three builders who were donating their time and I could get to work demolishing the old shack. It was held together with only an odd rusty
nail here and there. It wasn’t built too long ago. I knew this as I found a copy of
The Sun
from 2008. Cheryl Cole’s problems with her husband Ashley was the main story. Odd to
imagine people here reading that. The ill fella was lying on his mattress at the side as we were pounding with hammers on the corrugated sheets. I can’t imagine anything worse. Being ill
isn’t good as it is, never mind having builders in knocking your home down. When you’re not well you just want to be left alone. I can’t be doing with visitors when I’m in
hospital. It’s annoying how people visit you more at the time you’re feeling your worst.

As we put up the new structure a few English girls came to help knock in a few nails. This is the part that didn’t seem right to me. I know they were only trying to help, but more nails
were getting used as they couldn’t hit them in straight, and the job was taking longer. This is probably why the last hut didn’t last very long. It reminded me of one of those DIY shows
where someone’s husband has lost a leg and not been able to finish off the conservatory on his house, but then a film crew turns up and suddenly neighbours they don’t even know come and
help so they can get on the telly. The actual finish of the work is no good ’cos it’s been done by amateurs.

I didn’t feel that good about what we’d done. Yes, it was a shiny new shack, but it was built on the same spot as the old one, right next to a river of sewage and rubbish.

As we were leaving I asked what would happen to the old destroyed shack that was left by the road. Sepo told me the bits would be used by other people who needed to make a shack. So, the problem
wasn’t getting smaller. If anything it was getting bigger. I think the lesson I gave to the kids, as useless as it seemed at the time, might have been more useful than building that new
hut.

I told Sepo my thoughts, and he said he wanted to take me to Soweto, a township that has improved a lot since money was ploughed into the place. Old shacks have been replaced with brick-built
homes with gardens and drainage. I remember thinking, ‘Hold on, brick-built and drainage is good, but gardens? I ain’t even got one of them. They’ll have hot tubs next.’

He pulled up at two huge cooling towers, 90 metres tall, which had been painted with loads of colourful images that represented Africa. It had been done back in 2010 in time for the World Cup.
Seven local artists painted the murals over 75 days using 3,500 litres of paint. He said it was now used as an entertainment venue. It was a good idea. I grew up in a house with a bedroom that
faced a chemical plant and the cooling towers are normally big grey ugly-looking things. I used to sit by my window as a young kid waiting to see if any UFOs would land there, as I imagined it
would be the sort of place that aliens would want to explore.

I got out of the car and was about to ask what sort of entertainment took place here when I heard a scream. I looked up to see someone falling from a platform that hung in between the two
towers. Bloody bungee jumping again.

I told Sepo there was no way I’d be doing it, that I’d tried it before in New Zealand and it wasn’t for me, but he said it was Ricky’s idea and I would get a great view
of Soweto from up there. We got in a cage that ran up the side of the tower. I called Ricky to ask him what he was playing at sending me to a bungee jump again.

I did think about it. I had exactly the same feeling I’d had when I’d stood on the edge of the bungee platform in New Zealand. Luke the director really wanted me to do it this time,
and so did Sepo. I was willing to pay for the five huts myself but was more worried that Ricky would keep bidding me up to the point where I would have no choice but to do it. While I was thinking
it through, Luke said he would take my place, as it had cost us to go up there so someone may as well do the jump. This was when I came up with a plan. I said he might as well wear my hat, so it
could be filmed to look like me doing the bungee, and then I could call Ricky, say, ‘That’s it. I’ve done it,’ and then I’d pay for the huts when I get back home. Job
done.

I called Ricky back.

He was well done. Ricky was happy, I was happy, and Sepo was happy, as he was getting the five huts paid for. It was a lie but not a bad lie.

As a treat Ricky said he’d arranged a little caravan for me to use that would come in handy as I drove across Africa. It was little, but caravans are good at making the most out of the
space. We had one when I was growing up that could sleep loads of people even though it only had two bedrooms. The sofas flipped out to make single beds, and the table dropped down to make a small
double. I think they even sold the oven as a place for a baby or a dwarf to get their head down.

Seeing as Ricky and Stephen wanted me to see and get involved in acts of charity while in South Africa, it gave me a good enough reason to go and see a couple who had taken in a wild animal they
had found. I pulled up to their home to see a sign on the gates warning me of the animal I had come to see. Toni and Shirley met me and took me down to the bottom of their garden by the river where
Jessica the hippo was keeping cool in the river. Her ears, eyes and nostrils were the only giveaway signs that she was there. Shirley called her over in Afrikaans.