By Dianne Tipping-Woods

When I left home on the evening of Friday 11 September, I had only a vague idea that in a matter of hours, my worldview would change. My first clue that this wasn’t an ordinary evening came when my friend D intently strapped herself into the back seat of the twin cab. Seeing her serious demeanour, I did the same. She knew our destination; I had simply heard the rumours. J slid in behind the wheel, handing over the GPS to our friend R. He took it reverently, programmed in the destination and at the sound of the automated voice proclaimed “she speaks!” It was reassuring to know she knew where to go, even if we didn’t. Listening intently to the voice, we turned right and left and right again. Twenty minutes passed, then another ten. The streets were dark and unfamiliar.

I asked myself, as the instigator of this little outing, if the evening was a good idea? What had I got everyone into? Yes - it was for charity. Yes- it was being organised by a person I trust completely and who called our destination her home turf. Yes - D was vaguely familiar with the area…

But to head for Pretoria North on a Friday night – what were we thinking? The car was very quiet and just as I was about to suggest we turn back, there it was – the Pretoria North City Hall. Keeping the lights of the City Hall on our right, we followed an interminable road circle, possibly the largest in Pretoria, parked the car and, taking a deep breath, disembarked.

Then, like the pioneers of old we hauled out our supplies – in our case cooler boxes of wine, beer and hard liquor and parcel after parcel of food…

I know what you’re asking. What’s the big deal about the north? It had assumed epic proportions in my mind during my years in Pretoria and become the dumping ground for all I do not like about this (or any city) – occasional intolerance, conservatism, tackiness…I had painted it as a place where people are in bed by nine, consider vegetarians risqué, talk about cars and rugby, think peroxide is hair dye, and consider a trip to Joburg a major adventure. I had (wrongly as it turns out) banished all of this summarily to the north; the whole north and nothing but the north!

While the above points are as true of parts of the Pretoria North as they may be of any part of any city, anywhere in the world, the truth is that there is no big deal about the North, although, as we also discovered, it does have some particular charms of its own…

Like the fact a mandjiedans - a kind of a bring and share dinner dance and a local speciality- raises thousands of rands for needy kids who go to Pennies Nursery school and baby centre on the corner of Proes and Schubart streets in Pretoria Central.

Like the fact that while the men may wear two-tone shirts (another local speciality), they also hold doors open for you.

Like the fact that since it was my husband’s birthday, he got a cake, got to perform on stage with the band and got handed klippies and coke (another local speciality) all night, by random strangers wishing him well.

Like the fact that anyone living in Pretoria North has the natural ability to sokkie.

Like the fact that everyone knows the words to Baby Tjoklets – even I knew them by the time I left!

The whole evening was a blast and the band, Limpopo, was fantastic! I learnt that the North is different – but not necessarily in the ways I’d assumed. I was reminded how closely linked ignorance and prejudice are and that assumptions about Pretoria in general, not just the North, are normally wrong.

And I bought an impala; you can do that in the north. I’m still not sure what we’ll do with it. But if your worldview doesn’t change after something like that…well, I just don’t know.