En Rute

So I took a break...

2006-06-25T13:51:00.000-07:00

Hey, anyone who still bothers to check my blog, I'm extending a formal "I'm so very sorry!" I sort of dropped off the face of the earth, and then did some other stuff... but now I'm really excited to tell the world all about it. I've got some great pic's as well. But, the newest thing crack'n in my life is that I'm leaving S.A. in a couple days. That means that I'm 'en rute' again, which is I guess the way I like it. On the road again...

Pausing for Grief

2006-04-25T12:28:00.000-07:00

Early this morning a student strangled his girlfriend and then lit himself on fire. They burned together just a quarter mile from my room. The girl was dead before the fire was started , and the boy died later today at the hospital. I first heard of the murder/suicide this evening, in passing. One of my classmates asked me about a death that was caused by a fire in Denison Res. That's where you live, isn't it? When I got home around 8 this evening and my friends and I were talking the same 'fire' came up. Did you hear, about the fire? And the murder? He burned himself, he lit himself on fire.

No one had any details, only bits and pieces of rumors that had been circulating. We are all exchange students from western countries and had only been here in SA for half a semester. We very rairly know exactly what is going on. We asked my Swazi roommate if she new any of the details, and she did. The murder was premeditated, the boyfriend had bought the petrel before hand. Perhaps he stabbed himself before lighting the fire. He had mentioned the plan to a friend who had his spair key, but the friend thought he was joking. Just last year another murder/suicide took place in the same building, but by shooting.

I live in Denison Phase 5, in block C. The boyfriend lived in another 'block' less than a quarter mile from Phase 5. The girl lived in Denison Phase 5, Block E. Perhaps I had spoken to her on my way to class. Maybe I had seen him when I went to do my laundry. The fire trucks and police must have arrived at 4 this morning. I had not slept much last night and was was awake at this time. I was debating going to the computer lab to work, but had decided against it because it is unsafe to be alone when it is dark. How strange it would have been to have come out of my block and see so many emergency vehicles at my residence.

No one esle seems to think that it would have been strange. Infact, no one seemes to mind that such a violent crime was committed this morning. Life has continued with no interuption. That is perhaps the 6th violent crime that I have heard of, in passing, occurring in Pietermaritzburg since my arrival. I do not doubt that many others have occurred as well. I find it odd to live somewhere where the death barely makes one pause, and I wonder if has always been seen as such a non-event. Even though these two persons that are now deceased were fellow students, neighbors, and tragically young; no memorial was made, none of the other residence were informed of thier death, no candle light vigil is being held, no student service being conducted, no address from the faculty or staff, and no word of support from the community.

Perhaps I have been too sheltered, or have lived in a towns that are too small, or maybe I am simply too idealistic; whatever the case, I really like that all of the deaths that I have encountered up to this point have been approached with a sense of reverence. Time was taken to reflect upon the loss. People openly mourned it as a tragidy or at least as a reason for sadness. People stood, at a somber pose at least for a moment, out of respect for the dead and out of the knowledge of their own mortality.

Today I am not sure how to morn the loss of two people that I did not know, in the face of a seemingly calloused society. I feel impetuous grieving when so many others continue living just as before. But I don't know if I can help myself. I really am upset and I don't want to pretend that I am not.

Xhosa's

2006-04-22T17:37:00.000-07:00

Xhosa's

2006-04-22T17:34:00.000-07:00

Xhosa's

2006-04-22T17:26:00.000-07:00

Xhosa's

2006-04-22T17:23:00.000-07:00

Port St. Johns

2006-04-22T17:19:00.000-07:00

This is our trip to the Xhosa villiage. Wow!

Plet

2006-04-22T17:15:00.000-07:00

On the road, to George

2006-04-22T16:54:00.000-07:00

George was not a planned stop. The bus just ended up breaking down there. The first picture was not taken in George, it was where we made another stop. Breakfast maybe. It was just outside of the wine lands. The rest are of some Afrikans architecture, and what distracted us from getting back to the bus before it decided to leave. Much to our relief it was just going to the shop and would return to pick us, and some other passengers who were enjoying some KFC, up.

The Cost of Cape Town

2006-04-22T16:37:00.000-07:00

Cape Town really is a beautiful, clean, and relatively safe city. However their is a huge amount of poverty as well. The few pictures that I could take out of the window of our car did not capture the immensity of the shanty towns. These informal settlement stretch on for miles, and are home to thousand of people. As we drove by there were children playing by the road, teenagers playing soccor, grannies cooking mealies; people just living out their lives. They live so similiarly to myself in so many ways, and their worries are similiar to mine as well. However, in material goods, they have so much less; and in oppertunities as well.

The people who live in these conditions are the workers that make the Cape possible; they clean it, provide transport and security, they deliver goods, and they work in the docks. They are also all black or colored SA. This is not a unique occurence, most large cities have squater camps, or government subsidized housing similiar to this, on their outskirts. KwaZulu Natal has possibly the highest rate of poverty in South Africa. But somehow, it appears more striking just outside of Cape Town. I had just spent 2 days on holiday, living in luxury almost, and was returning from a tour of the wine lands. To see people living with so little, after I had indulged in so much, made me feel sick.

I don't see people living in these conditions for ever. The segrigation and discrepensy of wealth is to great to be sustained. Either there will be a great amount of change that benifits the poor, or there will be revolution. And if there is another revolution in SA I think it may be more violent and longer lasting than the first.

I'm Drunk

2006-04-22T16:08:00.000-07:00

We visited the Wine Lands for an all day tour and wine tasting while in the Cape. It was pretty amazing, especially because I like all things snoby ranging anywhere from espresso to fine chocolate, so this was a great time for me to have 'fine taste.' The vineyards were really interesting and beautiful and the wine making process was very complicated and involved. You can plant a vine and not have a product until 10 years later. I have a small dream of having a vineyard someday, but that fact alone is almost enough to crush it. I could die before I make any wine or grape juice for that matter.

The first pic. is from a winde and cheese farm we went to. The goats had as much wine as we did I think. The wine here was poor, but the cheese was amazing. Except for one. My fine swedish friend recomended it. It was very 'aged' and I almost threw up. The second and last pictures are of the vineyards. They are so beautiful. I really want one. The 3rd picture is of the first farm we visited. The workers are seperating the good from the bad for a desert wine. The desert wine grapes are harvested last, after they have most of the water sucked out of them by bacteria. That means that they are rotten. The low water content makes them sweeter, hence the desert wine. The 4th picture is of the red wine that is aging at the moment in oak barrels. They age for as long as 28 months, but some age more quickly in 3 months time.

We visited 4 or five farms that day, sampling at each. We started drinking at about 9:30, having champagne for breakfast. This is the vineyard where we saw the workers and the barrels. Their wine was very good, and in US dollars affordable. To bad I have no reason to have such fine wine while I'm here, and no way to get it home without it going bad. Agh Shame.

Next I think it was the cheese one, and then maybe another, or perhapse it was lunch, and then maybe another, and at least I remember that we went to a very nice one last. This farm grew olives as well, and had snotty olive oil blended from fine varieties of olives. We didn't sample the oil, but olives were quite nice. It was a new vineyard and they had only made one brandy thus far, and on a small scale. Brany is aged for a very long time, and their next brandy won't be ready till 2011. They are almost all out of their first stock of brandy, but they let us sample it anyway. It was very very strong, and not at all what I am used to. I don't think that I like brandy very much. But here they drink brandy and coke, thats pretty strange to me as well.

After drinking way to much wine, and being very snotty about it, I can smell and taste some of the different notes, see the different colors and know what they mean, and suck it properly through my teeth and on to my tongue, and twirl it in my glass like a pro. I also discovered that I like more than just Merlot. In fact I don't like Merlot all that much. I like Champagne, dry whites, sweet whites, shiraz, and cabernet. But I think I prefer to have them one day at a time.

Table Mountain

2006-04-22T16:00:00.000-07:00

We went to Table Mountain while in the Cape. It really really was the most beautiful moment of Cape Town. It is a must see sight, and I wanted to stay much longer than we had time for. The wind is really strong there, like being on top of a 14er, and the cable cars don't run when it is too windy. We were ushered off the top just as the sun was starting to set. Bummer. Cape town is maybe the most windy place I have ever been. Even in the city it can almost blow you over. I hope to come back and hang out here longer.

Robin Island

2006-04-22T15:37:00.000-07:00

The first photo is a view from Robin Island where Nelson Mandela and lots of other Political prisioners were held during Aparthied. The second is sample of the diet for the prisioners. The left column is for colored's or mixed race prisioners who were treated better during Aparthied, and the right is for Black South Africans. Instead of bread they were given Puzamandela which means literally 'drink, strength' and was made of a small amount of mealy (like corn) powder blended with water. The prisoners said it did not give them any stength. The next picture is of Mandela's cell. Sometime before Aparthied had ended they were given beds. Mandela was no longer on Robin Island at that point however, he was in prison somewhere else. The next is obviously a gaurd tower and the wall, and the last is Helena, Par, and Johan. They are wonderful Swedes and I am very lucky to know them.

So now that Robin Island is a tourist destination, we all got to go there, and leave there, all in one day. It was a little strange going to a prison as a tourist, but I did want to see it. We learned a lot about what hate can do, and then we all carried on being rude to eachother for petty things, like cutting in line or taking too long. It's strange that we cannot leave our humanity behind even in the when we are stairing its worst parts in the face. I had hoped that Robin Island would teach me something deep about life. Instead I learned that even I hate people, and that can be a pretty big deal. It wasn't the lesson I had wanted to learn.

Cape Town

2006-04-22T15:29:00.000-07:00

Cape Town is very British. It looks a bit like London, but with a huge ship yard in it. I really wanted to sail in one of the ships, but there wasn't enough time...

Kitchen Fire Revisited

2006-04-22T14:45:00.000-07:00

The End

2006-04-22T14:29:00.000-07:00

We traveled by Baz up to Port Elizabeth, which is supposed to be a really great town. We didn't get there till 11:30 and we left at 6:30 the next morning, so I don't really know. The backpacker was nice and the sleep was good.
We were on the bus a very long time, again. We went to Port St. Johns this time, and it was our longest stop. It is on the wild coast and it was very very cool. The most popular stop in this region is Coffee Bay, but I can't imagine being anywhere better than where we were. It is very remote in the Transkie, which is the region of SA that we were in. And Port St. Johns is more remote than most towns in the Transkie. The backpacker is involved with the local community, the beach was great, the waves were even better, and we had such a good time. On our second day there we went on a tour of a Xhosa villiage. It was so great to be with the kids, and to be in the bush! That day was truely one of the best that we have had while here. The last day was sunny, and we spent it fighting the waves at the beach, celebrated easter, and then, back on the bus.
The bus ride was fine, nothing eventful happened this time. Except, there was a border check where our driver had to get out to talk to an official. Another officer boarded the bus and shined his flashlight at each of us, and started asking us if we had any pig products. We thougth that he was joking, or crazy, but he kept asking. Sausage, pig legs, bacon; do you have any pig products? Finally satisfied that we were not smuggling pigs into KwaZulu Natal, he left us in peace.
We arrived in Durban very late Sunday night. We couldn't stand to stay in Durb's with home so being so near. We hired a taxi and got home at 12:30 that night. Finally we slept in our own beds, and I can say that I have 'seen' most of SA.

Easter Break Continued

2006-04-22T13:43:00.000-07:00

This map is a little bit hard to read, but if you use your imagination, you can plot our journey around the tip of Africa. We left Cape Town after a few days and headed up the South East coast line. We drove past the shanty towns that house almost all of the menial labor force for the city, then we entered the 'wine lands' followed by the 'garden route.' We took the Baz Bus, which is a popular choice among those traveling in South Africa. It picks you up right where you stay, and drops you off similarly. That way you can travel rather safely and conveniently all through SA, even when its late at night. However, it makes several stops. It stops at every city that it goes through, either for food or gas or bathroom, or for passengers. Most people who travel on the Baz Bus are in South Africa for months at a time, and all they do is travel. So, they are usually stopping as often as the Baz Bus. Taking in the sights at each place. However, we were on the bus for long stretches and we only had 10 days to see 'everything.' I don't believe that we were the Baz Bus' intended customers.
At one of our many stops, this one being for 2nd lunch, our bus stopped starting. We were in a small town called George, and it had some backpacker lodges in it. Where there are backpackers there are tourist attractions, so me and 2 other girls wondered off to see what we could see. We found a specialty cheese shop, a very strange deli grocery store, and then a beautiful church compound. We snooped around and took lots of pictures, and then we headed back to the bus. The bus had headed to the shop, but it had left a few folks behind, and had promised to come back for us. That relieved the growing sense of panic that had been building since we realized that we couldn't find the bus anywhere. Finally we left the quiet town of George and were on our way.
Our destination was Pletenburg Bay, or Plet for short. Plet is also on the 'garden route.' We arrived after the sun had set, but the backpacker was very nice and close to the town center. We walked to a small Italian restaurant and had a delicious pasta dinner before passing out in our beds. The next day I was up early and walked as close to the beach as I could. I saw an impressively old church building, several black South Africans heading to work, and a white lady walking her dog. She cautioned me about the dangers of South Africa, and that I really shouldn't wander through the church yard alone. I thanked her for her concern, and asked her if she was sure that it was really that dangerous. I had been here several months and not encountered any problems. She was a little shocked at that, maybe that I had been here so long, I'm not sure why that was so surprising. Then she advised me not to go any further than the end of the street.
At the end of the street there was a very nice hotel where several black South Africans were arriving for work, and a small path snaking behind it eventually leading down to the beach. I had wanted to put my feet in the water, but was a little scared after her warning. I walked down the past, against her advice and after a ways came to a look out small parking space. The path went down over a cliff and I'm not sure where it went after that. I hadn't seen any other people for a while so I decided to stop here and just watch the waves come in. I noticed some surfers out on them, and some people walking on the beach. It was getting later in the morning and more people were starting to come out. I had snuck out of our backpacker in my pajamas so I wouldn't wake anyone, and I didn't want to run into to many people dressed like that, so I headed back-without sticking my feet in the ocean.
By the time I got there, everyone was beginning to stir, and we signed up for some sea kayaking. It was a good time, after we got used to our boats and paddles. There were sharks in the water, so we weren't allowed to swim. Our guide was a little strange, and he never pointed out any of the sharks he saw. I found that disappointing, but it was cool knowing that they were down there, 'somewhere.' Later we went on a hike around a peninsula. It was so beautiful and remote! That was the best part of the day.
Then at 6 it was time to get back on the Baz Bus. Yea.

Cape Town

2006-04-11T15:08:00.000-07:00

Cape Town is amazing! It is beautiful, lively, clean, and safe. I arrived here on Sat. Afternoon, and now it is Tues. evening and I leave in the morning. I am sad to be leaving such a vibrant place, but ready for a more relaxed pace as well. While we have been here we saw mostly internationalists. The only ZA that I met in fact were my waiters or tour guides. Most of the labor that keeps the city humming is hidden away from tourists view. Today as I was returning from a tour of the wine lands around the cape, I finally saw where they live. Thousands of K's of informal settlements stretched out from the back side of table mountain. The mass of people that must live in these areas is to great for me to imagine. For those of you who may have seen squatter camps at the border of Texas and Mexico, you can imagine something similar. Only here the houses are made of metal and wood and not cardboard. The cost for having a city such a Cape Town seems to be ridding on the backs of the population who lives in these areas. I wonder how long this will be sustained, and I wonder how much my coming here as a tourist contributes to prolonging these conditions. Whatever the outcome, and whatever the reason, it was still quite a shock to see such a huge show of poverty divided purely by race after seeing such affluence. Perhaps that is the real reason that I am happy to be leaving Cape Town.

Easter Vac.

2006-04-06T10:10:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow we will be following a route very similiar to the one shown here in red. Wish us luck!

Some changes are good

2006-04-06T09:41:00.000-07:00

Some changes are better than others in my opinion. I have been thinking a lot about change lately, and this picture maked me think of it again. I guess because the moon has changed places with the sun, but whatever the reason, this picture to me represents change. Some things in my life seem to need to change, while other things keep changing no matter how much I wish they wouldn't.

I started reading a wonderful book last night that is making me change the way I think about violence. It was about Gandhi and his ideal of non violence, no matter what. The book told some stories from his life about how he faced extreme danger with extreme non violence. Things that I never would have imagined working were shown to be possible and effective. Shanties persistent use of non violence made a huge impact on the world. The book made me think seriously about what I claim to believe about turning the other check in the face of violence, ect. If Gandhi as a Non-Christian can fully embrace this doctrine of Christ, then surely I should at least consider it.

In fact, I may have some the opportunity for practical application of non violent response, since ZA is actually quite a violent place. I hope not, I prefer to leave some ideas in their theoretical form. But, just by living in ZA, I have begun to look at violence differently. The people here are scared a lot. Especially as the sun starts setting. They stop looking you in the eye, they clutch their bags close to them, and they walk quickly and silently toward whatever destination is safest. It feels tense, and by eight o'clock the street dividing campus is completely empty. I don't like being afraid, and I don't like seeing other people so afraid. It is like being in a self imposed prison where all you can think about is your personal well being. What if I don't get home? What if I get muged? Will they hurt me a lot? With so many thoughts pressing in it becomes impossible to wonder about the person who just passed you; who they are, where they are going. You can't even relax and enjoy the first stars coming out. Someone might see that you stopped walking and take the opportunity to mug you.

I can imagining Gandhi stopping anyway. It does not seem to me that he could have been very scared and still responded with non violence. Instead it seems that he evaluated the cost of the danger, and the cost of the fear, and decided that he would rather pay the price of encountering danger. I hope that in some small way, I will choose the same.

HIV

2006-04-06T02:30:00.000-07:00

I have been in South Africa for a little while now, but my experience here has not been as effected by HIV as I thought it might be. About 10% of the population is infected, and out of a population of 45 to 50 million that make about 6.6 million of them infected with HIV. That is a huge number of people. I am not totally sure, but the entire population of Colorado may be quite a bit less than 6 million. That would mean my entire state could theoretically be infected with HIV. Even in those terms I can not begin to grasp the reality of that many people being infected by a disease that is terminal.

How has it been possible for me not to be affected every day by this monstrous disease? One way I think is that most people whom I encounter with HIV look and act perfectly healthy. Even though statistically speaking, in a kombi taxi on any given day I am ridding with at least 3 persons with HIV, and I would have no idea who they were.

The other problem is that HIV at the moment, effects mostly black South Africans. Perhaps that is because they make up the majority of the population, so everything would effect them more than it effects other groups. Another reason this population is more heavily effected is because the correlation between the spread of HIV and the apartheid regime. Many of the apartheid laws encouraged the spread of HIV, for example, men were not allowed to live with their families while employed. That meant living in a barracks far from home for most of the month and returning home sometimes weekly, but usually, just once a month. This lifestyle did not encourage fidelity in either partner as you might imagine, nor did it encourage healthy families at home. Both fidelity and a healthy family unit are important factors in preventing the spread of HIV.

But perhaps most importantly, the reason the black South African population can carry a majority of the infections, and have it go unnoticed, is purely economical. Economics based upon up on racism. Their monetary value is usually less than other segments of the population because traditionally they make less money and spend less money. There has been change since apartheid, and there are now more Black South Africans who hold a large piece of the pie economically, but generally speaking they do not. Since it does not readily effect the pocketbooks of the other members of the population, HIV goes unnoticed. However, with more cases of HIV turning into AIDS and then death; it is effecting their pocketbooks. Only by now it is grossly to late.

So as the months continue I am trying to open my eyes wider, and broaden my experience, to include this illusive and deadly disease. I have visited an orphanage filled with parents who have died from AIDS, and I have visited a hospital filled with people who are dyeing of the disease, and I have seen a whole community just outside of Pietermaritzburg who is being brought even further into poverty by HIV related issues. But while I am here at varsity: studying, eating, sleeping, I do not see the effects of HIV. I am trying to bridge the gap between these two competing realities.

Kosi to Swazi and then Maputo

2006-04-03T22:05:00.000-07:00

The morning we left Lala something or others lodge we started walking into town and away from the Mozi border. We were depressed that we came all this way for nothing, and the Swedes were depressed because they hadn't eaten breakfast. A small pick up came by and we squeezed into it, later it stopped to pick up a woman selling bananas. That was really great, because now we could eat bananas. The town was already bustling when we got there, and after trying to communicate in broken English where the taxi rank was, we were on our way. Lucky for us it was outside of a gas station that sold more than bananas, and had a restroom. We talked to the kombi driver and he said, sort of, that we could only go so far with him. I cannot remember for sure, but I believe he took us from Kosi Bay area (the town name is Emangusi) to Jozini which is were the dam is, and then up N2 to Golela. Here he let us out at the deserted border station and drove away. It was early on Sunday morning and not a lot was happening, but we were really hopping that we could find another kombi on the other side. This border post was pretty run down. The roads were dirt, the shops did not have much and the women's bathroom was boarded up. The passport check people stared at us, I do not think that they had seen 5 white backpackers crossing their border on foot.

Here we made some decisions. It was still early, and Mozi was not far, so we decided to save Swazi for another trip and try our hardest to make it to Maputo. We got a kombi at another rank, and they spoke even less English. This made it a lot harder to communicate the urgency that we felt about leaving. A kombi can fit 15 people, but usually in rural areas it does not have 15 people who are all going to the same place. In these cases it can leave when it has 5 passengers. Since there were 5 of us we filled up the Kombi's quite nicely. However, the taxi drivers goal is to get 15 people so we argued with him about the wait. Since it was quite hot by this time, and the other passengers were ready to go as well, we only waited a half hour more or so. Most of Swazi is a blur now. I do not remember were we changed taxi's or what happened when. I remember just bits of the day, and some conversations, and that's about it.

We went up from Golela to Nsoko and then to Big Bend, then to Siteki. I think we changed kombi's here. Then on to Mlawula and then Lomahasha. Here we argued again with the driver. He wanted to wait for more passengers, we wanted to continue. After we had gotten out to get into a cab (as in a car that uses a phone and costs more money) he promised we could leave right away. Lomahasha is the border check point on the Swazi side, but the Mozi name is Namaacha. Since we could not pronounce Lomahasha, and Namaacha is in another country, we could not really blame the drivers for being confused.

It was maybe around noon when we got to the border check point and the grandeur of it was a welcome relief. There was air con and hard wood counters, bathrooms that worked, and people who spoke perfect English. We were really glad that they did, because when they told us that there were no kombi's (or Chapa's in Portuguese) waiting on the other side of the border, they had to say it four times to make it make sense. That was some really realy bad news for us. The guard was really helpful, and convinced us that it was not the end of the world, and that we could get a lift safely on this side of the border if we were patient. That was when the Panthera Azul bus pulled in. It was a nice bit of irony because we did not take the Panthera Azul bus, which picks up and drops off in Durban, because it only runs on Sun, Tues, Fri, and we were leaving on Saturday. We had planned to take it back to Durb's however, and it was nice to see that it was a real bus, complete with air con and seats for every passenger.

That turned out to be a problem this time. Every seat was taken and we were not aloud to stand in the aisle, so we were not aloud to ride on the bus. We must have looked so sad because the guard really set out to convince us that a ride would work out soon. We should just take a minuet to get some food and then rest in the shade. The Swedes thought this was a great idea and we headed away from the border check points air conditioned office to one of the stands just outside. They didn't have much to offer on a Sunday, and there were only 2. When we came back through on Tues. We noticed that the border was quite a lot busyier. I wondered off, thinking that if I ate another bread product on the road I might just die. I stared at the ground, then at the road, begged God for mercy, and that was when the most beautiful thing happened.

A large white pick up with a full cab started pulling into the border check. The drivers name was Emile and he said that when I saw him my eyes were the size of saucers, and I looked like I might break into a panic. I waived him down and asked him, in the most pitiful way, if he had room for 5. I had to ask him twice because when he said yes so readily I was sure he had misunderstood what I had said. He said that he would be glad to take all 5 of us into Maputo, and that he could not accept any money. Just through your bags in the back. Par smiled so widely when I told him that we had a secure ride, and he smiled even bigger when he saw the shiny new truck. We felt so lucky, and so happy.

On the way to Maputo we say just how rural the area was. The first Chapa that we passes was maybe a twenty minuet drive from the border. Emile was a South African dealing in the scrap metal business. He worked in Mozi during the week and weekended in Durbs. He was just heading back to his place when we ran into him. Since drinking and driving seems to be just a minor law, and Emile was built like a rugby player; Johann bought he, Emile, and Par a lovely Mozi draft for the road. The beer in Mozi is much better in ZA, and the bonds of friendship were cemented. Emile asked where we were planning on staying, and we had to tell him that we had canceled our backpackers because we were not sure that we were going to make it to Mozi at all, he got a little bit worried. We told him we had a map to the backpackers and that we knew of another if the first was full. He told us that we were welcome to stay at his place, because it was quite large and his roommates were not home.

Emile was the best part of Mozambique. His house was gorgeous, and it was indeed quite large. It was right 0n the beach. The Indian Ocean was so unbelievable. It was actually almost hot. The waves were small, and it was incredibly salty so we were very buoyant. The beach was safe, even at night, and we all went for a swim before dinner. Emile took us to a Maputo favorite. It was a pizza joint, with more of the great Mozi beer. He also introduced us to the traditional Mozi night cap. It is a shot of a strong liquor called 1920 followed by a shot of espresso. Only the espresso you drink more slowly. Although it made the espresso taste quite nice, I do not believe that this will be my favorite night cap. The next day we went to dinner again, this time at Costa Del Sol which is one of the oldest restaurants in Maputo. I had an amazing fish kebob. I also tried cane liquor. Par said that in Sweden it is famous and that it was quite nice. It tastes like vodka a little, only more highly distilled. It almost evaporates on your tongue. Emile ordered me a coke to go with it which made it a whole lot better. The next day Emile gave us a lift to the bus station, and after they sorted the bus out for half the morning, we finally left for Durbs.

Mozambique is by far the most amazing place that I have been thus far. It is beautiful, and safe, and they have a wonderful Latin culture. The ocean was quite nice and the prawns were as big as your hand. We may not be able to get back to Mozi before June, but I am really going to try to go back soon. The more I learn about it, the more it realize how much we did not see. Just north of Maputo there are the loveliest beaches and marine life, and a wonderful rural culture. And then even more north you have the borders of Malawi and Tanzania (where the Maasai live). It was an incredible adventure, and I am so glad that everything happened as it did.

Pietermaritzburg to Kosi Bay

2006-03-23T23:51:00.000-08:00

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"

2006-03-12T03:15:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-10T09:36:00.000-08:00

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...