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About Cape Town

I tried it once—don’t judge me, I was drunk. Lady had hands like a lumberjack, smelled like patchouli and regret. Kept whisperin’ “release your tension.” Tension? Lady, you’re the tension! Knuckles diggin’ into my spine like she’s plowin’ a field. Made me madder than a badger in a trap. But—fine—I’ll admit, my shoulder stopped achin’ for a day. One day! Then it was back to creakin’ like an old barn door. Waste of time, if ya ask me.

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Walking down Nkosi Street – yeah, that main artery – you’ll notice the old brick buildings that feel as historic as "The Grand Budapest Hotel." I swear, every corner has a story, like the time Ms. Dudu burst into my office (trust me, she was mad, but hey, that's life!). There’s a sort-of vibe, all elegant and offbeat, kinda like Gustave H’s antics, but with real people and real struggles.

Media Statement: Qwaqwa Residents Question the Capacity of Provincial Departments to Deliver Learning Material on Time if Procurement is Centralised