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It’s the early hours of a Sunday morning and I blow out imaginary cigarette smoke as a giddy feeling starts to bubble in my tummy. I wonder if its hunger or excitement. I look up, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, my eyes following a new smell in the air that seems to invite my hunger. Like the day I have ahead – the aroma is unknown to me, but there is an underlying essence that is somehow familiar to my senses. I am in Diepkloof, a township south of Johannesburg, the city of gold. The morning is bustling with movement and vibrant with unfulfilled dreams of the people walking the streets. Everything is alive! “You ready for today?” Tumi asks, her movements surreal and animated by excitement. I met her at the Human Rights Festival held at the Constition Hill – a precint perfectly located right in the middle of Braamfontein, a student village that’s also the home of the prestigous WITS University; and Hillbrow, a run down suburb that could have been previously described as the Manhattan of Joburg. Like the place I met her, and representing a lot of people in Joburg, Tumi is a whirlwind of a humanbeing , the combination of strong political opinions trying desperately to reconcile with the dreams of a carefree young woman. It seems such a perfect parallel that this Law student who works as a secretary part time is also the best informal tour guide to introduce me to the adventure I could never plan through Tripadvisor. “I’m ready,” I tell her, receiving the packet of ‘magwena’. This is a common township breakfast of deep fried semi-sweet round dough typically stuffed with fries and any choice of coldmeats. As we take a ten-minute walk to a local taxi rank, she tells me childhood stories of the places we pass. In the eyes of the young men we pass, I see the defiance of young adults wanting to find their own way but controlled by the respect they have for their elders. I am in awe at the shapely young ladies that proudly sway their bodies and light up like the sun when they smile. By the time we stop and Tumi pulls out her hand to make a sign that results in a taxi stopping, I am gasping for breath with exhiliration. The taxi ride isn’t like any I have taken before. Packed full with 14 others including the driver, I feel as though I am taking a long distant trip to an exciting place. Every now and then someone screams: ‘Sho’t left.’ ‘After robot.’ It’s the offcial way of announcing where you would like to get off. Our stop is the Orlando Towers where we will bungee jump. We get off the taxi and it’s a short distance to the top of one of two previous cooling towers at decommissioned coal-fired power station. At the top, I see Soweto, a place with houses that resemble the closeness of their inhabitants, it stretches its hand out to welcome or release whoever would explore it. I jump, and the wind sucks me in only to release me and liberate me forever. Later that night, as we drink ‘umqombothi’ to the sound of drums being played by a live band at the Eyethu Lifestyle Center, I begin to understand the story of South Africa. It is a land whose history is not recorded so much in the history books as it is carried on from generation to generation through stories told by men in the shebeens and women to their children while washing dishes. Every movement responding to the call of a drumbeat is the answer to a deeper calling. But just like gold, you have to dig deeper than the surface to find the true treasure. I look up at the kaleidoscope of swirling lights in the sky. Amongst the laughter and the gentle feel of people brushing up against me from time to time, I close my eyes to take it all in. In a flash, a thought defines what I am experiencing: this is the visual representation of the unknown familiar feeling I had at the begining of the day!