Life in Gonubie

I have my own granny flat in Gonubie, about an hour and a half by plane from Jo'burg. It could be any idyllic looking seaside town in the world - with the added decoration of razor wire, electric fences and dotted with armed response security vehicles waiting for call outs.

Security is paramount and confusing. Early every morning I unlock my door, unpadlock the giant steel cage that covers my flat, unlatch the gate that keeps the dogs in and use my remote to open the perimeter fence - then I'm on the street and go jogging alone and unmolested the entire length of the town down to the beach. The residents are really friendly and as they get to know me I get calls of "Molo Missy" as I lumber red faced past them. I'm statistically more at risk at being hit by a car than being mugged - the road toll for just December was about 800 - at least 300 were pedestrians!

It takes the equivalent of an entire Aussie SWAT team to load the ATM's - Jacqui pointed out the sniper guys posted across the street from the armoured car as we drove past. The vehicles look like tanks - all metal with little slits for windows. So cool.

So I'm comfortable but not complacent - I'd never go out at night alone, but I will happily wander down to the beach-front at night with friends for a moonlight stroll in the surf to walk off my regular half dozen warthog sausages. The lights of the boardwalk are lighting up the sand.

I could easily move here.