Selling Sax

Wednesday night we went to Trinity, a club in Green Point. It was more of a scene than any other place we had gone to. Instead of dancing on dingy bar tables, I felt as though I was at P-Diddy’s birthday party. It was very cool, but there was an taste of self-consciousness in the atmosphere surrounding the place. In places like that it seems you have to be wearing the right brands, be with the right people, be doing the right thing. I commend anyone who has the energy to live that lifestyle. Of course, we arrived home around 2 and I hit the hay around 2:30 AM.

I woke up at 3:30 AM, changed and got a lift from my friend Rafe to the lower campus Jammie (UCT shuttle) stop where hundreds of Safrican freshmen were waiting, sporting scandalous clothing. We were to be shipped off to random places for the day to sell Sax Appeal magazines, an annual publication created by UCT students about sex and everything associated, to raise money for charity. When I say random, I mean random. Of course, the bus we chose to go on just happened to be the farthest from campus, and after about an hour of driving, we were dropped in front of a robot (stop light) on a highway somewhere in Somerset West. Don’t ask me where that is.

Then we spent the next 5 hours approaching cars asking, and then pleading, them to buy magazines for 20 rand. We tried bargaining, guilt-tripping, and even a bit of harassing to try to receive support. It was a day full of hilarious bonding with the people in my sax appeal group as well as frustration at the fact that we received so much attention and so little financial support. It was especially hard being the only girl because, as you can guess, our clothing was not usual Safrican dress code. In 5 hours, I sold a mere 17 magazines, made 5 new great friends, didn’t eat a single bit, and nearly cried 3 times. It was quite the experience. Luckily my friend Dylan was great company on the long bus ride back, enlightening me on good places to travel in Safrica while everyone else slept.