Jacob Zuma is being inaugurated tomorrow as president of South Africa. Ages ago it seemed a dreadful, fearful possibility. Now that it's about to happen, doesn't feel like such a big deal. Feels like life is going to on like before.
Bumped into someone in Rosebank today who said they had bumped into the wife of a prominant ANC-connected businessman. She had been carrying a packet from Paloma boutigue. "It's for tomorrow!I am having this (African) traditional outfit made but just in case it doesn't work out I've bought this," she had told my friend.
"What's happening tomorrow?" my friend had asked, telling me in only a slighly embarrassed tone that she had forgotten it was the inauguration.
So it's not just me who is pretty blase about it all. On the other hand, there is a part of me very conscious and possibly slightly envious of the fact that my other friend is covering it for the paper and has to be at the Union Buildings in Pretoria by 5.30am, one of 900 journalists accredited to do so by Wednesday.