I am in joburg. I'm rushing. A day's stop over before the UK, but it's been richly rewarded meeting up with Palesa, an old friend from my days in South Africa circa 1992-1994.
There are many stories to be told, some will remain untold for the years that have passed by have rewarded some and dealt a bad hand to others.
But they're all here. The people I referred to as the Successor Generation; young go-getters who would emerge from racially segregated South Africa to inherit, by dint of talent et al, this South Africa.
Yesterday I had dinner with an Mbeki generation. Seems the previous gen laid the foundation; they were the army ants, for the next to enjoy, through hard work, the spoils of this land.
As the controversy of Caster Semenya continues, here a five page photographic feature shows a fresh side to the woman at the centre of the storm.
Glammed up in various outfits, she flits from LA socialite to home girl with her androgynous features.
Meanwhile the city quietly looks a changing, though you still wouldn't know the biggest football tournament is set to take place here.
That said they're trying out a new traffic signal that gives primacy to buses and public transport that's confusing many
There are so many things I would like to share but there's not enough time, so I'll reflect tomorrow. I have a ride to catch
