Us: Can we settle up our bill now?
Hostel owner: Yes. But it might not be accurate because I’m pretty high right now.
Picture perfect
October 24, 2010My friends and I arrived at the Durban Art Gallery with just 10 minutes to spare before closing time.
“What should we see?” we asked the security guard.
“Actually, you can probably see the whole thing in 10 minutes,” he said. “Go!”
Off we went, tearing through the tiny exhibitions, running from room to room. True, it was small — we did see everything in 10 minutes — but the place was fantastic representation of African art.
The juxtaposition of the work left me smiling.
Getting past the Sani Pass
October 24, 2010
We decided to hike from South Africa to Lesotho, a small, mountainous country known as Africa’s Switzerland — probably because it gets heaps of snow, not just because they make awesome hot chocolate.
The journey is a steep, 8 kilometer climb on a bumpy, gravel road.
About halfway up, my asthma got the better of me. We flagged down a passing minibus with a tour group inside and asked them for help.
After I explained my health issues, the tour guide reluctantly let me inside the vehicle. Then he frowned.
DRIVER: Where is your husband?
ME: He is at home in California.
DRIVER: What if you got sick and your husband wasn’t around?
ME: Well, I guess I would just try to get better on my own.
DRIVER: It is a good thing I gave you a ride so you don’t get sick.
ME: Yes, it is. Thank you. I appreciate it.
DRIVER: Because if I did not give you a ride and you got sick, your husband would be very angry with me and might kill me.
ME: … uh …
Goodness at the Cape of Good Hope
October 23, 2010I was grouchy when we got to the Cape of Good Hope.
I dislike being cold, and I dislike being uncomfortable. With howling winds and near-freezing temperatures, suddenly I was both.
But Cape Point is a spot of such remarkable beauty, I was won over.
This is where whales slide through the choppy waves at tugboat speed, while dolphins mimic synchronized swimmers. The baboons are as plentiful as house cats and bees are the size of ping-pong balls.
A short hike leads to the very tip of Africa. Technically this isn’t where the Indian and Atlantic oceans meet — that’s somewhere to the east — but I’m not so sure. Staring at the waves churning and thrusting in every direction, it certainly looked like this is where two bodies meet, mingle and have a party.
Africa’s ubuntu
October 23, 2010There’s an old saying that a single straw from a broom can be broken, but together they are strong.
The Africans call that ubuntu, the philosophy that we are all part of an interconnected web, rooted in acts of kindness and generosity. It means that the way we treat others is more important than our individual accomplishments.
Basically, you can’t be human all by yourself.
I’m seeing ubuntu everywhere as I travel throughout South Africa.
At Bulungula, a woman shared a piece of bread with her son, who in turn, tore it into four more pieces and gave it to his friends.
Inside a local shebeen (bar), the revelers happily slung a paint can full of sorgham beer my way, offering me a sip.
In Johannesburg, a generous couple fed me, opened their home to me and basically treated me as if I was family.
While trying to find the correct minibus in Durban, my friends were told the correct bus was located several blocks away. “Hop in,” the minibus driver said. “I’ll take you there.”
Those simple acts of kindness are hard to resist, and I’ve found myself being a little more open, letting my guard down more than usual. I finally gave in completely yesterday in Durban, when a man approached me on the street. He pointed at my oversized, reusable Nalgene water bottle.
“Can I have a sip?” he said.
It caught me off guard, so I asked him to repeat what he said.
“Your water. Can I have a sip?” Then he elaborated, “I have been eating the peanuts. They are very salty.”
He was a worker who shuttled people into the minibuses all day long. He worked on a block far from any cafe, restaurant or store. There really wasn’t any other water nearby. And even though the wary, distrusting part of me was screaming no, I handed the bottle over.
He drank nearly all of it, handed it back and beamed in delight. Then he said, “Sala,” which is Zulu for “Stay well.”