Pietermaritzburg to Kosi Bay

This past weekend I had a sort of adventure. We had Tue. off of school so we decided to make it a long weekend by skipping Monday classes. That gave us enough time to travel, or more likely, to get into trouble...

We started planning our overland trip on Wed. and had our passports by Fri. (direct from Durban) There was a lot of confusion as to where the passport check point was exactly and so mostly we new we were heading north. Mostly.

There were 5 of us in total. Two Swedes (Johann, Par) and 3 Americans (Becky, Alyssa, myself) and we caught a cab at 5:30 am on Sat. From cab to kombi (mini bus taxi) we went to Durban and that is were the plan really fell apart. This was my 3rd time traveling by kombi, add that with non English speakers, and we were quite shy travelers. We didn't ask the driver where we should get dropped off, and where to catch the right kombi, which was what my roommate had very clearly instructed us to do. Oops. We were relying on our 'friend', actually more of an acquaintance, to help us. She had ended up being in the same kombi as us and was trying to catch a bus headed south. She was quite late by the time we got to Durb's and in her rush, she left us standing on the side of the road.

That's how we ended up getting directed to a strange bus rank, and to the bus that brought us to Kosi Bay. The bus rank had American school type busses, more than Greyhound type busses, and were filled to the brim with passengers and cargo, with at least 20 people left standing. We paid a whole R80 per person for our fair, and at R6 to the $1 it was quite cheap. That should have been a good clue for what we should expect.

We finally pulled out of the rank, and the bus must have been 100 degrees. We traveled slowly up the North coast, and we took in as much of the scenery as possible. It was truly amazing. Once we broke away from the ocean we entered lush veld and rolling hills. The farms on the side of the road grow sugar cane, which looks like tall pussy willows, only without the brown tips. That is a major industry in ZA so there are miles and miles of sugar cane feilds along most ZA roadways.

There were also tons of cattle; grazing, and wondering along, and in the road. The oxen are massive and impressive. Lean and strong. Not at all like the American cattle I am familiar with, grain fed fatties. Even the cows (as in female) had muscle tone. Their coats are shiny and spotted in black and white, or red/brown or white. The Zulus make their large battle shields from their hides, and define their regiments and rank by the colors and amounts of spots. A seasoned warrior uses a white shield, while a new soldier carries one that is mostly brown or black depending on the color of his regiment.

Further north we entered a sort of forest. One that had been planted, so that it could be cut. Row after row or tall skinny trees, planted in straight lines, stretched to the horizon. The further north we got, the more mature the trees were, until we came upon a stand that had been harvested. By this time we were heading west, away from the coast. On the map you can follow our rout from Durban (on the tinny map) up the blue line (which in N2 I believe) past Stanger, Mandini, and Empangeni. Past Empangeni the St. Lucia wetlands are to the east.

This is where we got a flat tire. The popping noise was so loud, and we all waited for the bus to swerve out of control or tip over, but it calmly slowed to a stop instead. We piled off the bus and into the hot humid cane fields surrounding the road. It was a good thing we had to stop because I really needed to go to the bathroom. I don't think that we were planning on stopping bathrooms, or for petrel, any time soon. I don't know how the bus had that much petrel, or how so many people didn't go to the bathroom for so long! I peed in the cane field by the side of the road. I found out later that that many of the poisonous snakes of ZA, like the black momba, live in the cane. I am glad that I found out after, rather than before.

We waited for someone to bring us a tire (for at least on hour or more), but in true ZA style they never came. Everyone loaded back on the bus and we continued like nothing had happened. Hluhluwe, and then Mkuze, where we stopped again. This time we fixed the tire, and got lunch. Thank goodness for both. The tire had practically disintegrated and made me a little nervous to look at. I wasn't at all thrilled to be getting back on the bus after that, but there really wasn't any other choice. People started getting dropped off here and there along the roads. This slowed down the travel considerably. We needed to make it to the border before it closed, and we were guessing that was around 5. By now it was about 3 and we started to realize we probably weren't going to make it.

We left N2 and headed to Pongolapoort dam area. This area is very rural, and very beautiful. We gained a lot of elevation, which taxed the bus considerably, crossed over the dam and then began the decent. It was just like being on a roller-coaster. The bus was a like a heavy lead weight blazing down the road. We were all nervous and I thought I felt the bus get up on two wheels, but no one else seemed to notice. It was quite nice to live through though.

We continued North and then turned east toward Tembe nature reserve. By this time we had the bus to ourselves for the most part. We passed small Zulu huts, tall grass field dotted with small trees, and lots of cattle. We saw young woman gathering fire wood and washing clothes, and a few men walking on the side of the road. We hit a town around Kosi bay area, the last town before the Mozzie border, at about 5 p.m. We were quite stressed, and confused (mostly because we only had small maps, one from a travel book written in Swedish, and one from a free tourist guide book that was quite small. We had no idea where we were, and it was apparent that there was no taxi that operated with a phone. Our bus driver had been very kind to us, and he arranged a ride to the border.

From the back of a pickup I watched a blood red sun sink into the African bush, and it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life. When we got to the border it was closed, and there wasn't much there. A few men standing around a kombi, a couple run down buildings, and the border post itself. One of the buildings was a restaurant, and the other a place to sleep. It was the kind of place that rents by the hour, and asks you to clean up after yourself, so we thought we might stay somewhere else. We hoped back in the truck, paid the man again, and were dropped (after a small break down on the way) at a large lodge near the town. It was here that we spent the night and got the awful news that we could not enter Mozzie here without a 4x4 and there was no way we were making it to Maputo. It was also here that we bought a decent road map.

The pool was a welcomed relief, and the food was so good, when it finally arrived. We all bunked up in a small cabin and tried to get some rest. The whole plan had fallen apart, so we made some phone calls, discussed, and formed a new plan. We were going to go to Swazi and just see from there, but maybe make it to Maputo if there was enough time. The man and wife running the lodge were quite discouraging and unhelpful, and some of the most scarred people we had met thus far. They were white ZA, and about middle aged. The mans parents had started the lodge originally and perhaps they were a bit nicer. We didn't have the pleasure, but I hope that they were. They did tell us that there are two quite nice cities that can be reached by Kosi Bay, but they weren't going to help us get there. So before seven (and before breakfast) we left Lala something or other lodge on foot, hoping for the best, and that a kombi would drive by soon.

"When the going gets tough, the whites got going"

Last evening I got to view the film Hotel Rwanda. It was an amazing story about the violence and the struggle that took place in that country and the genocide that ensued. Then we had a discussion of sorts. It was a group of Christians that were discussing it, so a Christian world view was the stance that was taken. The students here are brilliant and brought forth so many valid points to a complex issue that in some way or another is faced by all Africans, and all people. English is not the first language of most students, and for some it is there 4th or 5th. However, even without a huge command over the language they spoke volumes.

One student from the DRC said: "When we ask, and begin discussing, trying to decide who was right, and who was wrong [the Hutu's or the Tutsis], we can finish here by fighting." The wisdom of this statement is easy to see, but how often do we loose track of the point of the discussion and begin arguing for the right to be correct instead. Later on he said: "We were prepared to fight [by adults], we were not prepared to lead. We cannot make decisions." He felt that his generation were held back by the things that were passed down to them. They were unable to lead, to make decisions about the situations around them. They had been taught only how to react, and to react with violence.

He was so sad for his country, that has many educated young people, but they are only educated in books. They have no ability to bring the country under control. He was distraught that, "A boy is leading my country, a boy with no education." He yearns for his generation to develop character, to learn leadership, to learn wisdom. If they don not he has little hope for his future, or for his country.

Another student spoke, a black South African. His name is Rheta, and from the few things that he has shared about his life, I gather it has not been easy. He spoke about his own struggle with racism, and how sometimes he catches himself thinking, "How can a white person be here telling me about Africa" when a white South African is addressing the problems facing Africa today. He strugles with explaining a his faith, because it has been so misused by white South Africans in the past, to his friends. He said, "It was a really an amazing thing, I was led to Christ by a white person." It seems funny to me, that statemtent. But the culture is indeed deeply separated, with Christianity on one side, through no fault of God's either. In Rheta's case the sides were brought together by Gods sense of humor.

Race is still an issue, in South Africa, and Africa in general. The current trend is for the young white South Africans to move to Australia, New Zealand, or the U They fear that they will be held back because of there color, and might someday be in real physical danger. Many Black Africans agree. They worry that not enough is being done right now to ensure that whites will be safe in the future.

My Kitchen Burned

So while I was in the bush, my kitchen had a small fire... no one was hurt, but there was some drama. The hot plate was left on with a pot full of oil on it. It ignighted, burning the cupboard above it and melting the handles, the tea pot and toaster, the counter, the knobs on the hot pate, and charring the ceiling. The rest of the mess came from the fire extingiusher. It looks odd in my kitchen now, that everything is black. But, now our neighbor Gabrial is a hero, and I get ot meet lots of people when I use there kitchens to cook in. We are lucky the whole place didn't go up really. Just another great story about this one time...

ZA beats

beat beat beat
Schrunched stalking feet
in box toed shoes,
swaying down the road.
load load load
Sun burns mist away
revealing cot and shepard.
Round the house, and round the hills,
and around with a blanket wearing;
by poney shepherd going.
Comming now, by combe now,
stalking feet just showing
Maids skirt, startched shirt, and wider seat
than combe
beat beat beat

Lesotho

This past weekend I had the opportunity to go to the Drakensburg Mnts. It is actually an escarpment, which is exactly what Fort Lewis College in Durango, CO is built on. Only the escarpment of the Drakensburg is large enough to be confused as a Mnt. We stayed at the backpackers lodge at the base of the 'burg in some dorm style rooms. It was a couple of Americans: Kaz from Ruckers whom planned the trip, Cindy from Berkeley (the two form a couple as of late), Nia who has studied in ZA for a semester before, Irene who is from Berkeley and is Chinese American, Erika who is also from Berkeley and is Jap/Chinese American, and myself; two Swedes who live across from me at the college residents: Johan and Par (with the emulates); and four German girls: France, Yanna, Sandra(whom are the best of friends),and Corinna. We arrived on Fri. Just before dinner and had all of Sat. And Sun. To play in the veldt (sounds like felt).

Sat. Started with a traditional English style breakfast of fried eggs, tomato, and bacon, on toast. The bacon here is actually good though. It resembles ham more than some foreign substance. Then we loaded up. We added some more Germans to our party; a couple and a very cool girl named Irene, who were making there way around Africa for at least a month or so. They had met before in Coffee bay and were happy to meet again. My tour guide (we had spit into two cars) was Matthew.

The weather was like Northern Ireland and we were all so terribly cold. The humid drafty rainy day was good for driving though. The fog made the burg even more beautiful. We made our way slowly up the only road for a very long time, and crossed into Lesotho. The way into Lesotho had been the Bridal Pass when it was used by mules and ponies, but in the 1960's the road was put in and now it's Sani Pass. The Bridal Pass is closed. The road is similar to what you see in CO, but 10 ton trucks use it to transport timber. For those of you who have seen it, imagine driving up Mnt Princeton, or up a jeep road in Silverton, in a 10 ton truck loaded with timber. We didn't meet any trucks, so I feel pretty lucky.

It took a long time to drive the pass because of all the stops for pictures and two stop's for pass port checks. Finally we were in Lesotho. The vegetation and the weather were changing. Lesotho has virtually no trees, and the humidity is less. Both of these changes are because of the higher altitude. The shepherds ride sure footed Lesotho ponies and are wrapped in warm blankets. They look after the sheep that they use for wool and goats they use for angora. At the top of the pass there are some small huts where a store, a pub, and some houses are. There are some chickens there as well. We drove a few K into Lesotho, had a picnic lunch and then drove a bit more.

during lunch some shepherds, who are all teenage boys in Lesotho, came and demanded food and tobacco from us. Our guide surprised them all by speaking to them in their mother tongue. He is from Lesotho and one of the few whites who know the language. He gave them a lesson in manners I think, but it didn't seem to help. There was a language barrier for the rest of us, the shepherds English was limited. I think they only felt comfortable asking for food and tobacco.

On the way back we stopped at a hut to talk to a woman. It was so turistie. We all crowded into her hut which was a sort of Lesotho Bed and Breakfast that she was running. We asked the guide questions and he would either answer them or interpret them to her, and she would answer them. Seeing her hut was worth the awkward moments though. They live in round huts with thick walls that are great for insulation. They plaster the floor with cow manure and mud, and thatch the roof with grass. They use small thin logs to make the roof peek and from the outside it looks like a cone shaped hat. The huts stay warm in winter and cool in summer, and are made more festive by painting the walls in the inside. The outside walls are lined with rock. Matthew said that if a storm tears down a hut, they can build one again in a day, but they prefer to build them more slowly. They are very sturdy looking so we were surprised that one could be erected so quickly.

It was overwhelming to meet people who live there lives so different, in a way that I would find quite hard, and then to not be able to speak to them on top of it. I left the woman's hut feeling more confused than anything else. In Africa, they tell you what they think you want to here, and not necessarily what they really think. We had asked the woman what she thought about Americans, and she laughed and said she thought they were nice. I wonder what she really thought of us as we were crowded into her hut.

The drive back was much quicker, and we made fewer stops. The weather had improved, and we had dried out a bit in Lesotho so we were all in better spirits. That night we had our dinner meal and I went to bed soon after. I was exhausted.

The next day was for hiking and we walked for 6 hours total and finished the day with a horse ride. This was my favorite day. We walked to a Bushman painting sight through the small 'burg. We did gain some elevation, but not anything substantial. Just enough to offer superb views extending from the burg out to Pietermaritzburg; and in the other direction, the top of the pass. On the way we saw impressive flowers and birds that are only seen in the burg. We also enjoyed perfect Colorado weather under a huge blue sky. I missed home so very much.

The Bushman paintings were not impressive, the impressive thing is that they had been made so long ago, by someone. I love painting, but this is the first time I have ever walked up hill for hours in order to see one. I think that says a lot about what we think is important as humans. The story that the painting communicates was lost on us, and the culture that created it is gone, but we still think that it is important. Important enough to see and to preserve. I think that we all have stories worth seeing, worth preserving.

The horse ride was off to the west of where we had hiked and we made our second loop just as the sun was dipping low. I am proud to say that I road into the sunset in the Drakensburg. We road English and I had a heck of a time staying in my saddle, but a horse ride is always good. We rode a full 2 hours and covered a lot of hills, valleys, and streams. At one point the horse was in the water up to my knees. I enjoyed it so much, but was held back by not really knowing what I was doing. I really need to learn how to ride properly.

We came back to 'Maritzburg Monday morning and now all I have of Lesotho are some memories and some souvenirs. But it was amazing from beginning to end.

Welcome to the bush! This past weekend I headed to the bush to do some African stuff, like walk through tall grass and run with the buck. I didn't get to run with the buck, but the weekend was superb. We were just a little ways outside of 'Maritzburg where I attend Varsity, but you would have never have known it. There was just open land for as far as the eye could see. At night there were millions of gorgeous stars. The bush is a wonderful thing.
The weekend was put on by Xi Alpha. I didn't know that they had Xi Alpha in Africa, but apparently they do. It was a simple weekend, just a bunch of students hanging out: eating camp food, getting eaten by mosquitoes, and laughing, a lot. My roommate, Coli, had invited me. When I arrived I knew her, a student from Berkeley (Irene), and my neighber Gabriel. When I left I knew more people than I could remember names for, and I was beginning to talk like a South African. The bush changes you.
All of the weekend was great, but some highlights were as follows: swimming under waterfalls, jumping into swimming holes, seeing a monkey, zebras, and some kind of buck, hiking, a briaa (something like a BBQ), Rheta's wonderful depressing poetry, Glen's passion for loving people and encouragement not to give up on this God stuff, and Denise's stories about volunteering for the tsunami effort (not once, but three times she went). The only thing missing was a sunset, it has been very cloudy in the evening, and real crocks. We only saw the sign.