EDITOR’S NOTE
Traveling is never easy. For starters, unless you’re a trustafarian or professional surfer, riding on your sponsor’s dime, money is hard to come by. So, if it means delivering pizzas into the heartland of the Cape Flats ganglands in a beat up VW Beetle for R30 a shift to get your travel fund going, so be it. At least that’s what I did. I once did a delivery deep in Grassy Park at 10:30pm with around R1000 in takings pouched in my moon-bag. Big money back then. I passed a burnt out car, flames still licking the paint work and thought I even heard the rattle of gunfire in the distance. There were no street lights and there was no one around. It was dead, dead quiet. The type of quiet…