Braaivleis, rugby, sunshine and car guards: Viv Vermaak

Viv Vermaak keeps a stash of coins in her car for one purpose. Car guards. She has tipped them for years, once as much as R100. But what exactly is she paying for? Not parking help. She can park. Through John from Germiston, Kalk Bay's coin-throwing Alex and the Congolese engineers of Newlands, Vermaak weighs security, charity and guilt. A friend calls them guilt entrepreneurs. Vermaak prefers another term. Her final answer is more honest than most of us would admit..By Viv Vermaak*.Car guards are a genuinely South African phenomenon. As unique as braaivleis, dipping an Ouma, and load-shedding.Overseas tourists always comment on the lions in the Kruger National Park, the blanket of cloud over Table Mountain and the groups of people in security jackets who appear out of nowhere near parking spaces. They are national heritage symbols of a socio-economic kind.Overseas tourists always comment on the lions in the Kruger National Park, the blanket of cloud over Table Mountain and the groups of people in security jackets who appear out of nowhere near parking spaces. They are national heritage symbols of a socio-economic kind.I have a special compartment in my car where I keep coins, specifically to hand out to car guards—two rand, five rand, smaller change and, now and then, notes. The biggest tip I have ever given a car guard was R100. The man remembered me and thanked me for years afterwards. I had made a difference in his life. The transaction meant something to both of us.But I do wonder exactly what it is we are paying for. And why I pay.After all, I know how to park my car; I have a driver’s licence. Sometimes it feels as though you are playing charades when a car guard helps you into a parallel parking space. You have to guess a few times before you understand what their hand signals mean. Then you have a good laugh. Or swear.Some of them look as though they are pointing out emergency exits on an aeroplane. In a car guard’s vocabulary, “go faster”, “go slower” and “Eish! It’s too late!” all involve the same hand gestures.Technically, it shouldn’t really matter whether the car guard is doing the hokey pokey. Parking assistance is free added value. The car guard’s primary purpose is security, which comes at a premium in our country.The shopping centre where I used to shop assured me that car thefts had indeed decreased after they introduced car guards.While car guards are neither armed nor formally trained, their visibility deters serious crime, particularly at smaller centres. They can also be useful in helping you pack your shopping into the boot. Some people become wildly upset when car guards aren’t there on the occasions when you actually need help with the heavy bags, but then suddenly appear from nowhere, and stretch out their hands for money just as you are getting into the car.Calm down, sir! Remember, madam, they are car guards, not shopping guards. Is your car still there, or not? Chill out.His “office”John from Germiston was a short man with a huge laugh. He was cheerful and exuberant. I asked him what it was like to hang around outside Pick n Pay all day. He said he was proud of it. For him, it was his job. The parking area was his “office” and his waistcoat his “uniform”. That brought me some peace of mind.Part of the transactional value of the car guard phenomenon is that the bright jacket resembles employment. It feels like progress. It feels as though everyone is making ends meet, rich and poor alike. You pay for a silver lining around a 40% unemployment figure.John had his own tactics. He made sure you knew he was approaching, so you wouldn’t be startled when you saw him. I assume people had reprimanded him before, thinking he wanted to rob or attack them or something, so he was very careful. He would start talking loudly and smile broadly, and he never approached from behind. He knew which car was yours and made sure you knew that he knew. He was neatly dressed, but not too luxuriously, otherwise it might look as though he was making too much money. John was a good car guard.Alex from Kalk Bay is a more controversial figure. He is a big, intimidating, unusually dark-skinned man, according to description. If he isn’t happy with the amount you give him, he will simply throw your own coins back at you. He once loudly insulted a friend of mine.I laughed heartily when she told me the story, although she was understandably less impressed. Some people are afraid of Alex. Others trust him. There is space on his belt for hanging keys. Last I heard, people double-park their cars when they want to jump out quickly to do something or pop into the Brass Bell for lunch. Alex is a colourful character with a tourism attraction all his own.Architects and engineersThe group of Congolese car guards who work in the parking lot in Newlands are known as the group of architects and engineers who cannot find work. They live in a country which refuses to accept them or their skills. They show up with dignity anyway. Their directions are precise and accurate, and their company is sophisticated.If you want to show off, you speak French to them while putting R5 into their hands, but you may feel rather strange giving such an educated person so little money, so you give R20, just in case someone is watching. The Congolese work together and share all their money among themselves collectively.“It’s basically organised begging,” a friend of mine said as we drank our cappuccinos. I thought that was a little harsh.“At least it’s begging with benefits,” I offered.My friend suggested that the benefit was guilt mitigation. “Car guards are guilt entrepreneurs. You pay to feel a little less guilty.”I stirred my coffee three times before answering.“I believe the word is charity,” I said, “but guilt entrepreneurship is a useful addition to the free-market vocabulary, if you really want to measure it in bursts of grace. I would rather call it empathy entrepreneurship. They are the MDs of a compassion enterprise.”Whatever you call it, there is a willing buyer and a willing seller, so it is legitimate. The concept of almsgiving is historically and culturally universal. In most religions, there are instructions to share part of your income with those in need.Jesus himself was deeply compassionate. I believe that if Jesus had driven into Johannesburg rather than Jerusalem, a car guard would have jumped out from behind the palm tree, helped wave the palm branch for him and parked his donkey neatly under the tree. I am sure Dear Jesus would have given him a tip and welcomed him into the afterlife. If the New Testament is to be believed, heaven will probably be full of car guards, while my friend and I sit in the flames arguing about the terms and conditions of humanity.Guilt reliefI paid cash for my coffee so that I could have change for the car guard. Those few rands definitely represent a form of guilt relief. A guilt that must not be spoken too loudly, otherwise it loses its ability to compel action. A collective absolution invoice for the history of an entire country, perhaps? An acknowledgement that you have more than someone else because, after all: “There, but for the grace of God, go I.”At the same time, there is the relief that you are not in the car guard’s position. Add a hint of superiority to the mix, because “every person is the master of their own destiny”, or so the saying goes. There is tension between these polarities. Tipping a car guard relieves that friction. Friction relief. That is what I am paying for..Read more:.South Africa’s security shift: When private guards replace the State.Mr Car Guard, thank you for your full-spectrum services. I understand you do what you do for the sake of survival, and I say that with appreciation. Yet you remain a uniquely South African brand. As authentic as Chappies, but you give us much deeper things to chew over. As ubiquitous as Clientèle advertisements, you are always there wherever we go, whether we are in the mood for you or not. The landscape would not be the same without you.But for now, and here, I can give you a few cents, you can smile, and we can both feel a little better. For that privilege, I am grateful.I remain a loyal client.Viva!.*Viv Vermaak is an award-winning investigative journalist, writer and director. She was the most loved and hated presenter on South Africa’s iconic travel show, “Going Nowhere Slowly’ and ranks being the tall germ, “Terie’ in Mina Moo as a career highlight. She does Jiu-Jitsu and has a ’69 Chevy Impala called Katy Peri-Peri. Vermaak's Podcast Report is a monthly feature on the Daily Friend Show, and appears monthly in the Daily Friend as a column..This article was first published by Daily Friend and is republished with permission..Sign up for your early morning brew of the BizNews Insider to keep you up to speed with the content that matters. The newsletter will land in your inbox every morning on weekdays. Register here.Support South Africa's bastion of independent journalism, offering balanced insights on investments, business, and the political economy, by joining BizNews Premium. Register here.If you prefer WhatsApp for updates, sign up to the BizNews channel here.

Braaivleis, rugby, sunshine and car guards: Viv Vermaak

Related Stories

Porsche 911 Turbo S: A business-class seat with a rocket strapped to it

Ian Cameron: You lied blatantly, Mr President

BN Daybreak: Kempton Park bodies; ANC 'finished' in eThekwini; Chelsea flowers; AI slowdown

The Rumble at Ellis Park: Dr Duarte da Silva's Heavyweight Papers