SA expat responds to British ‘host’: You can braai on Table Mountain!

The gloves are off! Craig Plowden, who swapped sunny South Africa for the drizzly skies of the United Kingdom, responds to Miles Phillips’s ‘I’ve never met a nice South African’ viral article.

ALSO BY CRAIG PLOWDEN | Ramblings of an expat South African in the UK: Let’s talk weather and the quest for biltong

Oh, my word!

Reading your post was like being back at a family braai in South Africa where Uncle Koos tells his infamous joke about the Springbok and the Lion walking into a bar – except this time, the bar is in Britain, and the Springbok’s wearing a raincoat.

Your observations about us South Africans in the UK are so spot on, I couldn’t help but roar with laughter – much to the confusion of my British neighbours who probably thought I’d just watched another rugby match where the Springboks came out on top (again).

Let’s dive into the heart of it, shall we?

With a bit of a twist, adding a sprinkle of our experiences in the UK, which, mind you, have been as eye-opening as finding out there’s a whole genre of British comedy dedicated to making fun of their own weather.

Starting with Table Mountain – our very own natural wonder turned conversational cornerstone.

Likening Table Mountain to Everest is a tad understated. Everest might be a wee bit taller, but does it have a flat top you can have a braai on?

I think not.

It’s true; we do tend to wax lyrical about “our mountain” as if it’s the eighth wonder of the world.

But have you tried engaging a Brit in a conversation about the Tube?

It’s as if the entire London Underground is their personal Everest, complete with tales of survival against all odds during rush hour.

“You think Table Mountain’s impressive?”

I say, “Try navigating the Circle Line on a Monday morning. Now that’s breathtaking.”

‘Lifeblood of any South African expat gathering’

And oh, the sports banter, the lifeblood of any South African expat gathering.

Rugby, cricket, it’s all fair game.

Your portrayal of our love for the Springboks and our propensity to bring up the Rugby World Cup at the drop of a hat (or pint) is absolutely accurate.

But let’s not forget the local sports culture here.

I’ve been introduced to the bewildering world of cricket (our shared love and despair, often in the same over) here in the UK, where matches can last longer than some holidays and the rules seem to be made up on the spot.

“It’s quite simple,” a Brit explained.

“Each team takes turns to bat and bowl. Except when they don’t.”

Clear as mud, thank you.

Then there’s the British and Irish Lions saga.

I’ve noticed something similar when the topic of football comes up.

Mention the World Cup, and it’s as if you’ve invoked a collective ancestral memory of 1966.

The atmosphere changes, eyes glaze over with a mist of nostalgia, and suddenly, it’s “coming home” all over again.

Except, well, we’re still waiting to see it walk through the door.

The biltong obsession – ah, my favourite.

You captured our unwavering loyalty to dried meat beautifully.

But have you ever tried explaining to a Brit why Marmite is, essentially, the Vegemite of the Northern Hemisphere?

“It’s like biltong,” I’ve said, in a desperate attempt to find common ground.

“But spreadable. And not meat.”

The resulting expressions of confusion and horror are worth their weight in gold.

‘Innit’

Now, let’s talk about the “ya ya ya” syndrome.

It’s a linguistic phenomenon, a verbal tic as uniquely South African as saying “cheers” instead of goodbye.

But the Brits have their own version.

Ever noticed how every statement, question, or greeting can be answered with a “right” or an “innit”?

It’s the Swiss Army knife of responses.

“This weather’s rubbish, innit?” Right.

“The Springboks played well, innit?” Right.

It’s beautifully efficient and equally baffling.

In conclusion, while your cheeky poke at our South African quirks was as delightful as a sunny day in London (a rare gem, indeed), it’s these very idiosyncrasies that make the tapestry of expat life here so rich and colourful.

We might come from the land of sunshine, safaris, and Springboks, but we’ve embraced the rain, the Royals, and even the roundabouts (eventually).

And through this cultural mash-up, we’ve found laughter, camaraderie, and a shared love for complaining about the weather.

So, here’s to the quirks, the conversations, and the countless cups of tea that have made this corner of the world feel like home.

Cheers, mate, from one South African expat to our British hosts.

May we continue to navigate this quirky, wonderful life together, with humour as our compass and a healthy dose of mutual ribbing to guide the way.