We meet again! It’s me, your friendly (I hope) journalist, still trying to settle into suburban life here in Ballito.

In my last column, I shared my shock at the absence of washing lines on the streets. Well, good news, my landlord introduced me to the magical invention of a drying rack (also known as a clothes horse). Fancy stuff! Goodbye drycleaning bills.

Now, just a quick word to my friends, family and everyone who’s quietly moved me onto their “secret millionaire” list. Yes, I now live in Ballito. But no, I’m not rich. Not even close. If anything, I’m just a broke tourist with permanent residency. To my fellow centimillionaires living off budget rice and hope, sisonke comrades.

But seriously, is Ballito still in South Africa? Please don’t say yes too confidently. It feels more like a scenic canton in Switzerland or a gated nation with its own rules.

The rest of us, hailing from townships and rural corners, arrive like visitors, just long enough to buy groceries, maybe breathe in some ocean air (with terms and conditions), then vanish before sunset like we overstayed a visa.

Take the recent Nedbank Cup Final, a Soweto Derby between Orlando Pirates and Kaizer Chiefs in Durban. The Amakhosi won and South Africa was on fire with excitement! I was travelling back from Stanger and I could hear the hooting, the celebrations, even uncle vibes from behind the wheel. Then I got to Ballito and… silence. Not a peep. Even the birds seemed disinterested.

Every weekend, I embark on a quest to find a local pub showing South African football. Nada. European leagues everywhere. Lots of rugby matches or some cricket. I even think some may prefer National Geographic. But not South African football. NEVER!

I get it – it’s a wealthy town with cultural differences. But guys we’re still in KwaZulu-Natal. Join the vibe, it’s harmless. I promise you won’t break out in a rash if you catch a Kaizer Chiefs game.

Ballito residents only seem to remember they’re part of KwaDukuza when it’s time to complain about the municipality. Not saying that should stop – those potholes aren’t filling themselves – or when there’s someone in the townships who needs help with donations. Beautiful stuff, truly inspiring. But beyond that?

Ballito feels like its own shiny little bubble and most folks here have no idea what it’s like to deal with the real hustle, the daily grind or the social ills that exist just outside the gates.

Anyway, maybe it’s time I get a TV. Because right now? I’m definitely living in a parallel universe.

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