"What's the best thing to eat here?" I asked the Indian man sitting at the head of the table. "Oh, you are not from here, are you? You must try the curry, the curry in Durban is famous." Of course it was - that was the whole reason we'd stopped at the random restaurant on the side of the road. We were following road trip rule #73: always stop at a crowded restaurant, even If you are not hungry.
The next thing we knew, I was sitting at table, with Joe Bird, talking to the nicest group of Indian South Africans known to man. They had invited us to sit with them, had ordered our food for us (the famous Durban Bunny Chow curry sandwich) and began asking us all sorts of questions about the USA.
The table of ten was one large family- Neville and his wife and three kids, aunts and uncles all from Durban, and his nephew Bradley and wife from Johannesburg. The family told us all sorts of stories - how their relatives came from India, along with thousands more Indians, to work in the Durban area around 1900 (including one Mohatma Ghandi) and what I was like being both Indian and South African. They didn't know any family back in India, but they did know generally where their family was from. Sounds a lot like my family coming to Texas from Germany.
As the night wore on, I realized how much I had in common with Bradley. He and his wife had been dating for five years and married for three, like me and Eileen. They had done long distance dating from Johannesburg to Durban, a five hour drive. Durban is even a lot like Houston - a hot coastal town with spicy food and humid summers. Bradley's wife is a career woman, and he had changed cities due to her burgoning career in joburg (much like me). In all, I had met my SA match, a soccer-loving 32 year old who loves to travel.
By the end of dinner, after not being allowed to pay, we were headed to Neville's flat. "Flat" being a nice way of saying luxury apartment in a great neighborhood with a view of the Indian ocean from the balcony hot tub. However, this was no Hilton family with luxury suites and no values. Neville had grown up, with his four brothers and sisters, the son of a priest. They all grew up in Phoenix, a notorious Indian township segregated under Apartheid, with a dirt floor and little to no possessions. Neville started his own clothing company, and the rest is history. Some of his less moivated brothers still live in Phoenix. None of this is lost on him and the family, however - they prayed before our meal at the Curry House, and in reference to his life, Neville was ever careful to give thanks to God.
By the end of the night, after coffee and much conversation, Joe and I left having made our first local friends. It is often posible to travel months and not be invited to a someone's home; this was a special night. We left promising to see each other again, with an open invitation to Texas for all.
When Eileen arrived on Thursday, I told her the story, and she instantly wanted to meet Bradley and his wife. So, last night we went to Bradley's house in Johannesburg for dinner with his parents and in-laws. Bradley promised us that his wife would make us curry so good, so spicy and hot, that "For the next day, you have to put the toilet paper in the refigerator!"ac
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