Imagine you lived a different life, part two.

My assistant's hands, after the murder scene in Hout Bay.

A week ago, when I wrote about my friend's idyllic existence on the mountain in the winelands, the last thing on my mind was a shack in the townships. But someone lives here as well. Three people in fact.

There is no bathroom. Water gets carried home in gallon jugs. I stood alone in this shack for a few minutes, while the crew were setting up outside. The wind made it creak and settle. The structure so flimsy, I could hear breathing through a shared wall.

If there's one thing I've learnt over the years, it's that people are infinitely adaptable. But when I came home late that night, my apartment felt like a small palace and I felt infinitely lucky.

The children made me happy. They told me their names and led me by the hand.

The next day, I went straight onto another job. Location: a luxury penthouse in the city. A Nivea commercial with a beautiful girl rubbing lotion onto her legs, over and over and over again.
 

This is my life.

Another day, another tech recce.

This is the usual scenario: eight people in a minibus. The chaperone up front with the director. In this case, a suave German who looks like an eighties pop star - sunbed tan and floppy hair. He had the Emmanuelle soundtrack on a loop.

Then you have the first AD, the DOP, the Key Grip... assorted grown men in death metal t-shirts and knuckle tattoos. And, back corner, the reserved art director. In the sundress and pink nail polish.

At some point they always forget I'm there and I learn interesting things about stag parties and juggling girlfriends. Oh, and hours of sport talk.  Y a w n.

Today we did a demented zig-zag from Hout Bay to Tokai and all of the in between.

I've worked on a few shoots in the townships. People get nervous. But my experience has always been the same: utter friendliness, big smiles and a lively curiousity. I took these pics in Guguletu today, in an area called Barcelona.

Temba is the style king. He works for and wears clothing label "Darkie", available from the Long Street shop.

Towards mid-afternoon it gets hot in the car, everyone gets drowsy. The soft porn music isn't helping. Heads nod and jerk. I once read somewhere: the male has to snore, to frighten away predators.