A shake, a twist, a light clasp and subtle thumb click away, eyes on eyes throughout; after half a dozen townships and about fifty clumsy hellos I conquered it - the South African handshake.
I had only tasted a tiny part of this country before I was sent here for a month as our woman on the ground.
A fortnight in Johannesburg casualty unit after a car accident in Botswana ten years ago and dinner at a beautiful bend in the River Vaal during an overnight flight transfer hardly count as an introduction.
But for years I have been reading and listening to my friends’ stories about the magical and sometimes brutal place that is their home.
I heard the warnings to be careful, but basking in the glory of the post-World Cup South African swagger I didn't really heed them.
![[QODLink]](http://english.aljazeera.net/mritems/Images/2012/5/24/2012524105149565734_16.jpg "The Brotherhood and Mubarak")
