About youhavemyword

Shae writes avidly between trying to find her voice and her purpose. She lives in storytelling South Africa and fills her time with good books, good friends, good music, and good wine. She loves coffee and cats, but can't stand balloons. She enjoys a good run or a hard game of squash, and is a relatively skilled musician. She believes in hope and grace and trusts the merciful, and sometimes messy, makeover in an ongoing process of redemption.

Do you pee at church?

I told the story yesterday of how someone peed on my car minutes before I walked into a church service. If you need to, read that sentence again. It went like this:

There was a special worship service being held at a local church, and I (along with my then significant other) had decided to go. I knew the music would be good, the sermon would be short and sweet, the vibe would be pumping, I’d see people I knew and it would be a great time all round.

As the day went, we ran a little behind and so arrived a little late at the service. We were wrapping up a conversation still sitting in the car when a white Corsa bakkie pulled up next to us on the passenger side (where I was seated). A man got out of the driver’s seat, and his wife got out the other side. While his wife was busy wrestling their toddler out of the back seat and gathering the myriad of baby accessories, the Mr decided it was a good time to relieve himself.

Checking that his wife was sufficiently preoccupied he sidled up to our car (unfortunately not noticing that we were still inside unaware of what was about to transpire), merrily unzipped his fly and begun peeing against our car tire. I can’t quite explain the feelings of dismay and shock and disbelief and amusement that overtook me. When we regained consciousness it didn’t take long for us to bang aggressively against the window to alert him of our predicament. 

Men, it is possible for flies to be zipped in about 0.00000003 seconds. Ladies, if your man is a free spirit, please ensure his pants are sewn shut when he is going to be in public.

As mortifying as the whole experience was (I’m not sure whether it was worse for us or for him), it made me consider again how important it is to be real. Too often we take pretense in our stride when in fact we’d be way better off with a bit of uphill climb being genuine. I can almost be certain that outside a church was not the only place this man fancied taking a wizz. I’m certainly not giving him any points for decency or decorum, but I do salute his consistency of behaviour if my hypothesis is correct.

Moral of the peeing-on-my-car-at-church story? Be real.

(I’m not saying go pee on things. Please, control yourselves.)

Cape Town, Day 5: on rocks and under umbrellas

Criteria for living in, or ever visiting (for even the briefest amount of time), Camps Bay:

  • be fancy
  • be rich
  • be sophisticated (or act it if you’re not)

This beach is beautiful: white sand and a sky that invented the colour blue in every shade:

Camps BayNumber one mission at any beach location is to find ice cream (duh!) so I strolled along until I stumbled upon a little place that had delicious (obviously) ice cream but also some other rather peculiar flavours. Clearly a marketing gimmick but still!


Interesting events of the day:

  • mistaken for being a foreigner three times (I wish tourists got free stuff instead of being ripped off all the time, then it would have been useful)
  • hit on several times. (It would have been less painful just being hit.) It’s interesting to see the various angles chosen for approach… nevertheless, no suitors were found (or wanted).
  • did actually get hit by a crazy old lady who, I assumed from her demeanor, was drunk and probably actually crazy. Somewhere between singing, shouting, muttering to herself and pushing people around, she took a little time out:

crazy old lady


After making my way home, the evening was rather quiet – a movie and rotties (yum!) on the couch. This post is not very poetic, I realise, however, the events were entertaining enough. Here are some more gorgeous sights to keep you busy for a few moments more:

IMG_1196 IMG_1176 IMG_1172 IMG_1182

When I arrived there was only one brave soul in the water so I reckoned I would brave it too. Sigh. Walk waist deep, lose footing, dunked into probably-close-to-ice-cube-temperature water. Evidence that I was in fact in the water:

IMG_1180Evidence that Cape Town is in fact windy and that brushes are useless (ie. my hair after a long day at the sea side):



PS. Windy cities should have a sport called: Umbrella Chasing. It’s a real thing, and it seems fun with all the running and the shrieking and the sand and the chasing… bless.



Dancing interlude

She is yellow tank top

spaghetti braided hair

blue shorts     –     black cap

velvet brown skin

barefoot     –     flailing arms

rhythm hips

sandy toes

treasured wife

focused eyes     –     fluid walk


proud mother

rainbow-spread smile

lily-lovely frame

Eiffel Tower sturdy

green laugh

heritage heart

She is dancing on the beach.

Cape Town, Day 3 & 4: on sickness and the streets

It’s almost inevitable going on holiday and getting sick, so Day 3 saw me flat on my back for 24 hours on this lovely couch. Other than that, there’s nothing to report. Hooray.

Sick on the couchDay 4 was glorious! I may have walked a little far a little too soon post-illness but in hindsight I don’t care – totally worth it! I made a cat friend as I walked out the door…

Cat friend… then got going as I was determined to get to Origin Roasting, and what a better way than to walk the streets. Street art says a lot about a city:

Street art IMG_1062 IMG_1063 IMG_1064 IMG_1067 IMG_1068 IMG_1070 IMG_1074On the way, a man and his wife have stored some resemblance of a home under a bridge opposite hugely oversized Good Hope Centre as if by being in its path as the sun goes down they’ll be shadowed from the hardship they’ll wake to tomorrow.

At some point I landed up in the middle of a taxi rank and had no idea how I got there. No, I didn’t take a photo. After two and a half hours of walking I reached my destination after my map promised me a quick 3,5 km walk. As if! Granted I may have got a little lost in the middle of my stroll, but still! I have a directional problem, sigh. It looked something like this:

walkingI finally got there though and my taste buds were not disappointed. I’d expected more from the ambiance but maybe I will blame my wild imagination for that. I ordered their Honduras bean AeroPress and chocolate chip cookie – YUM!

Origin Roasting IMG_1100 IMG_1103Although my legs were dead and my slops nearly worn through, I knew I was close to Truth Coffee so I plugged some jams into my ears and head off in a relatively lost-and-found direction.

Truth coffee

It’s safe to say I saw and experienced a fair number of fascinating things:

  • Free wine
  • A blind guitarist
  • A guy screamed in my face
  • Saw the most gorgeous and the most awful ginger hair
  • Night market on Hope Street to end the day:

Hope Market IMG_1139 IMG_1141 IMG_1148 IMG_1151


Cape Town is best. The end.