During that long time between my finals, I studied of course, but also tried to see as much of Cape Town as I could. I also tried to but some souvenirs for my friends and family, but found that this was a very stressful and difficult task. There are many tourist markets in Cape Town and essentially everywhere you travel, because for some people it is their main source of income. On Long Street in Cape Town for example, there are two huge craft markets. One is the African Trade Market and the other is the African Women’s Trade Market, and they are very similar. It is sort of organized like an indoor flea market, where there are multiple vendors next to each other in small booths or rooms, piled with their wares. There are multiple levels in each market, and every vendor assures you that you will get the best price at their station.
It is all a bit overwhelming, the amount of items there are and the people trying to sell you things. It is not as in intense as the market in Zimbabwe, where people would thrust things in your face and follow you around, however. Perhaps I put the pressure on myself because I am not comfortable with negotiating or saying no to people that I know could use the money, but I wanted to make sure I was not getting completely ripped off too. Anyway, so there are all sorts of things you could buy, from textiles to bowls, sculptures, beadwork, masks, etc, etc. I definitely left the country with less than I anticipated, especially because there were so many things I wanted, but it’s fine because I ended up spending most of my money on traveling which is better than having mass amounts of stuff I think.
What else did I do… I also just hung out with all the people I had met that were leaving early either for home or travel. It’s always strange to say goodbye to people you have lived with and been so close to for half a year, only to probably never see them again.
Anyway, the most ambitious thing that I did by far during my whole time in Africa was the trip I took after finals. My plane ticket to return home was for December 1st, so I only had less than two weeks to fit in everything that I wanted to do before that. This was really unfortunate, as I was unable to visit Lesotho, the small country that is located completely within South Africa near the Drakensburg Mountains (which I didn’t get to see either), but I can’t really complain because I was able to see more than a lot of people will get to. My traveling partner in all this was, as usual, Kelsey. I am going to include a map here to illustrate our journey:
Our journey began with a flight to Durban, also known as Durbs. Leaving Cape Town, the weather was perfect, but as we traveled up the coast, that soon changed. The windows outside the plane turned from blue to white/grey and stayed that way. At one point, it was so blindingly white outside with no variation in value that it looked as though we were in that white space in the Matrix or something; it was a little unsettling. The landing was the most unsettling thing of all, because it was raining rather hard on our descent, and there was quite a bit of turbulence. I could tell some passengers were getting nervous, and as we approached the ground, a few people began praying audibly. After all, South Africa is largely a Christian nation. We touched down safely, and applause and sighs of relief followed. I, however, was preoccupied with the thought of rain putting a damper on our Durban experience.
From the start of this trip, Kelsey and I were pretty open in terms of planning. We knew we were meeting a few of our Charlton House roommates at a hostel in Durban for two days, and then we would figure out our next move from there. We bought tickets on this transportation service called the Baz Bus, which took people around to various hostels in South Africa and through Swaziland. It turned out to be a pretty big rip-off because we didn’t use it as much as we thought we would, but it was convenient when we did use it I guess.
So in Durban, it rained pretty much the whole two days we were there. The first day was pretty lazy, and we wandered around near our hostel which was right next to the beach in the rain. The rain wasn’t too cold, so it wasn’t too bad. We went down to the beach to feel the water, which was freakishly warm as it was part of the Indian Ocean instead of the cold Atlantic Ocean waters near Cape Town. If the weather had been nice, it would have been a great beach - nice sand and surf. Durban is known for being a surf town, as well as it is known for being a town with a large population of Indians. I was excited about this aspect, because I heard there were some really good curries to try here, but unfortunately I didn’t get the chance to try any really.
Kelsey and I ended up splitting from our housemates that we met in Durban and going to town on our own. We ended up taking a shuttle around town to get a feel for it, and then headed to the casino and uShaka Marine World. Durban seemed a lot more run down than Cape Town, and gave off a definitely more dangerous vibe. We were pretty wary of our surroundings the whole time we were there, and the gloomy weather didn’t help to make us feel any more welcome. Nothing happened to us of course, but we were just on heightened alerts here.
uShaka Marine World is one of the major attractions of Durban, and so it was very touristy. We didn’t end up going inside the park because we got there quite late in the day, but it appeared to be like a cross between Sea World and Water World. We walked in the area that had a lot of shops and food places, kind of like a less extravagant City Walk, that ended up at the main city beach. The beach stretched for miles, and was pretty impressive. They were in the middle of building a wide walkway with pavers down the length of the beach, probably to impress visitors coming for the World Cup. There were a bunch of people surfing even in the inclimate weather. Ok, the last mention I am going to make about the weather here is that I was told by many people that it had been raining in that area for 8 weeks straight, and was considered to be one of the worst seasons they have had in years.
So anyway, I was a little disappointed in our visit to Durban, and I don’t think I got a great sense of the city, but besides the uneasiness we felt, it had the potential to be interesting.
We then boarded the Baz Bus early in the morning with the intent to possibly stay a few days in St. Lucia, a wetland that became South Africa’s first World Heritage Site. It is the home of thousands of crocodiles and hippos, which are known to wander into town on occasion. To get there, we traveled through more of the KwaZulu-Natal Province, which is quite different physically than Cape Town. There are a lot more lush, leafy plants and red soil. The foliage was in general denser than the Western Cape, and there were not as many large mountains, so it felt very different here. We crossed over a few, last rivers with muddy brown waters, drove through a few small towns and villages with houses made from creative materials, and passed by many farms growing all sorts of crops.
We also had a lot of time to decide what we wanted to do next while we were on the bus, and we decided that we had seen enough wildlife, so we wouldn’t be staying in St. Lucia. Kelsey was really set on going to Mozambique, where this bus did not go, so we strategized it out and decided to get a shuttle from Swaziland.
By the time we got to our hostel in Swaziland, it was evening. The rains made it a swampy trek to our hostel, and the stupid Baz Bus lost one of Kelsey’s bags, which luckily only had a few dirty clothes and a hairbrush in it. We checked in, and were given a private bedroom because they didn’t feel like sorting the dorms out at the time. We were tired and hungry, so after we settled in, we headed next door to the little restaurant/bar that was there. We sat down with some other people from the Baz Bus that were staying at our hostel too. There was a Canadian former couple that was in South Africa on a trip that was meant to be for their honeymoon, a British girl trekking the world, some more Canadians, and some Danish people or something. We ate and talked and had a good time, but this one drunk guy pulled up a chair at our table and was being annoying, so we went back to the hostel and went to sleep.
The next day we tried to figure out what there was to do in Swaziland in a day. It was raining again, and the hostel recommended a park with lots of wildlife not too far from the hostel. They gave us rough instructions about where to find a minibus and an address to tell the minibus driver. We went out to the street, and soon flagged down a minibus. We showed them the address, but they told us they don’t go there, and that we need to go the other way at the fork. So we stood over at the split in the road and waited for minibuses that went in that direction. We were standing in the rain, waiting for a while, but no minibuses were coming.
An older lady exited a minibus where we were trying to catch one before, and headed over in our direction. We asked her if any minibuses went this way, and I don’t think she spoke English. But I think she knew we were trying to find a ride, and we followed her when she walked up the road a little bit. A truck soon stopped, and after communicating with the driver, the lady flagged us over. There were two men in the front on the truck cab, and the back of the double cab had some stack of empty egg crates. Things were shuffled around and we got in, thanking the drivers and lady profusely. We went down the road a ways, and then the driver told us that he had to go another way. They told us where to go, and then they headed down a dirt road towards a chicken farm. Kelsey and I then flagged down another car, and gave them the directions. It was again two men, but they were very friendly and actually drove quite far out of their way to take us to the location. We offered to pay them the fare that a minibus would charge, and they declined, but I insisted.
I can understand why the minibus that we initially tried to catch told us that they didn’t go to where we were, because we were at some seed shop. Confused, we went inside and asked about the park. They told us that we were in the right area, and that the park was a kilometer or so down a dirt road through some crop fields. We just decided to walk since we were already wet and we made it this far already. It was not raining hard at this point, but the road was pretty muddy. Good thing it wasn’t the kind of mud that sucks you in, but there were puddles of watery mud all over. After a while, I took off my flip flops and walked barefoot. It felt nice actually, and the walk was enjoyable. Swaziland is a very pastoral country from what I saw. There were lots of green crop fields and backdrops of gentle mountains. Our walk was a quiet and peaceful one, and we soon made it to a gate to the park. There was a guard at the entrance, and we explained that we just wanted to see the animals. He let us through and we kind of wandered until we found a building to get more information. We cleaned our feet as much as possible, and headed to the door. Almost as soon as we entered, I heard someone say my name.
It was a girl from UC Davis that had attended UCT through EAP, and was staying at the hostel that was on the park. We had no idea that there was a hostel here, and we wished we had stayed at this one. We talked with her for a while, and we decided to go somewhere with her after checking out the park a bit. We didn’t have much time to walk around because there was a free shuttle that was leaving the hostel soon. We saw some warthog and impala, and then had to head back. It was no longer raining at this time but was still cloudy. We got in the shuttle and went to a minibus station, where we decided to go to the capitol, because none of us had been there yet.
Every time the minibus made a stop, kids would wave ears and trays of corn or bananas in our direction to try to sell them. We drove through some nice mountains, wondering all the while where the king lives. Swaziland is one of three monarchies left in Africa. People seemed very proud of their king, and there were pictures of him everywhere. His face is on the Swazi currency, and we thought he kind of looked like Daryl on “The Office.” Some younger people we talked to thought that a monarchy was a bit archaic and they weren’t sure how much longer it would be around, but they did say that the king was a good man and had done some great things for the country.
When we got the capitol, we were hungry and headed to a shopping center near the minibus station. We got some chicken stew stuff that all the locals were getting, and it was delicious. We also got some fat bread, which are deep fried bread balls that are slightly sweet, but not as sweet as doughnuts. Then we set out trying to find a sweatshirt for Kelsey because that was one of the things lost on the Baz Bus. We didn’t wander too much in the capitol because there wasn’t much there, so after failing to find a sweatshirt, we got onto a minibus and headed back. We stopped at a tourist market on the way back to get some souvenirs, and spent a long time drifting through the stalls and getting little gifts. Then we went back to our respected hostels and relaxed. Kelsey and I got dinner in our hostel, which was some more stew, but this time it was beef. We played cards, read, and talked about traveling with all the other people in our hostel. Later, we headed down to the bar in the hostel by the pool and spent a long time talking to the bartender. He was this scrappy old white guy who grew up in South Africa but wandered around as a safari guide for many years. He had lots of scars and told us all about how he got them. He had one on his neck from some kind of reptile, and it was all very entertaining. Hostels are really great places to meet people who had had some of the most interesting experiences you have ever heard of, that’s for sure.
The next day we were leaving for Mozambique, and had a shuttle organized through the hostel that would take us directly to the capitol, Maputo. Before leaving Swaziland, the driver told us that we should get some bottled water, because the water in Mozambique was unsafe to drink. Good thing he told us, because we had no idea. Don’t think we were completely unprepared, we were taking malaria pills in preparation. We got huge jugs of water and some snacks, and headed out. We got to the border post high up in the mountains, and had to complete the necessary crossing procedures. This was definitely the most intimidating border crossing. The forms we had to fill out asked for more details, and the agents did not speak English very well. In case you were unaware, the main language of Mozambique is Portuguese. We also had to wait a lot longer to get our passports back. At most border crossings, you fill out a slip with info on where you come from, how you got there, where you are going, and how long you are going to be there. An agent types up some info in a computer, scans your passport, stamps it, and passes it back to you, simple as that. Only here and in Zambia did they take your passport for a while (I would say half an hour if you are lucky) and then you get it back. Anyway, we got our passports and then headed down into Mozambique.
At first, Mozambique looked a lot like Swaziland because it was very green and rural. There were small villages clumped along the road with stick huts. Oh, but did I mention, it was sunny now! As we traveled, it began to get more populated and urban. There were lots of rundown buildings and people everywhere, and roadside food stands became constant. Soon we made it to the capitol.
Maputo had a lot of large buildings like you would expect from a capitol city, but these buildings were also pretty shabby looking for the most part. I didn’t know much about Mozambique when we arrived because I wasn’t really anticipating ever making it over here to be honest. As has happened in many other African countries, Mozambique has been plagued with civil war, which is a main reason for the sad state of the buildings and streets. There was also an election soon, so there were lots of political ads everywhere. Many people were milling around, shopping, walking, etc. We dropped our stuff off at our hostel, and then headed out to see more of the city and the beach area.
Mozambique is known for its beautiful beaches, but Maputo’s beaches turned out not to be some of these. They were dirty and had lots of algae or kelp, but still proved to be a vital place to hang out and party or relax with friends.The driver took us up the coast pretty far so we could get a sense of the place, and also took us to an ATM so we could have some cash in the local currency to get a cab back to our hostel. After saying goodbye and thanks to our driver, we wandered around and looked for a place to eat. We stopped in a fish market where you can pick out the seafood you want, and then have it cooked for you anyway you want it. It was a little overwhelming and too busy for us, so we wandered some more until we came to a place that looked good. Mozambique is also known for its prawns, so Kelsey had to get some of those. One thing that I can say about Mozambique is that it is definitely big on African time, meaning that everything is slow. Not just here but anywhere we went, it took forever to do anything. After eating some dang good prawns and veggie curry, we wandered some more on the beach, and then decided we should head back to our hostel soon before it got too late and shady or something. We didn’t know where we could catch a minibus or cab, so we started walking in the direction of our hostel using the simple map the hostel gave us. Things were going along fine, until one section of road branched off, and I guess we did not take the right way. We were still along the beach when we should have been going towards the city more, but we thought that there was another way to get there up ahead, so we continued.
As we were walking in to the unknown, a group of three young boys, maybe 10 years old, saw us across the street and crossed over to us. Now, the guide book warns that street kids are something to look out for, so we both were a little nervous about them. We couldn’t understand what they were saying of course, and it didn’t help that the tallest one was carrying a big stick. At first they followed behind us and didn’t say anything to us, just laughing to themselves. I could tell they liked my sunglasses because, let’s be honest, they are awesome, so I held them in my mind instead of on my head just in case. We were walking by rows of houses, and some had security guards in front which seemed to be common practice here. I kind of rolled my eyes at them hoping they might say something to the kids like “back off” or something, but they just stared blankly. Thanks a lot guys. I started talking to the kids, asking them if they had anything better to do, but they didn’t respond to my questions directly. I’m sure they really didn’t have anything better to do anyway. They asked us for money or food, neither of which we really had. The boys asked where we were from, and I told them to guess. They said South Africa and a few other countries, but not the US. Then they started teaching us some Portuguese words, like the words for nose, eyes, ears, simple things like that and none of which I can remember. The only word in Portuguese that I knew coming into the country was “oi” for “hi” which I learned from my sister’s Brazilian friend, and the only word I learned from Mozambique was “obrigado” for “thank you.” The same boy then started singing an Akon song, that one that goes “You’re so beautiful, beautiful, etc” and I hinted that we were from where Akon was from, but again, they didn’t seem to get it.
The kids continued to follow us until we veered off to this boat club place to see if we could find a number for a cab, because we hadn’t run into any on our walk. The nice security man helped us out, and soon a cab came to get us. Our cab driver was the nicest guy, and his name was something like Fred, so that’s what I am calling him from now on. He took us back to town via the scenic route without charging us extra just because he’s so nice. We asked him where else we should go in the country if we only had a few days, and he mentioned the town Bilene. We were thinking about going to Xai Xai (pronounced shy shy) because it sounded like a nice beach town, but Fred told us that it wasn’t all that great and was much further away than Bilene. Most of the people we knew that were going to Mozambique went all the way up to Tofo Bay, which would take 9-14 hours to get to from Maputo, and we definitely did not have that kind of time. It’s supposed to be this great place with clear water for snorkeling and you can swim with whale sharks and cool stuff like that there. But anyway, he dropped us off and we thanked him for the advice. We then chilled in our hostel for a while, and then went to eat at some place. When we came back we met some Afrikaners who were living in the hostel while working in Mozambique putting in cell phone towers or something like that. Kelsey and I played cards with some of them while some of the older guys argued about something. We tried a few Mozambican beers, which just tasted like beer to me, and then called it a night.
The next morning, the Afrikaners made us some breakfast of pap. I think I mentioned what it was before, but it’s made from corn (they call it mealie) and is kind of like clumpy grits. They put sugar in it and milk and eat it that way. I couldn’t eat too much of it because it was really sweet, but it was really nice of them. Then Kelsey and I packed up our stuff and tried to figure out how we were getting to Bilene. We figured out that we would need to get to the minibus station and then take a minibus from there, so we called Fred to take us to the station. Before we did that though, we went to the market a block or so down the street called Market Janet. It’s kind of like a flea market inside with lots of booths with clothes, toiletries, food, etc. We got some shampoo, mangoes, water, and some spices to take back home. It also has a large pile of garbage at the entrance we came in, which is a consequence of the lack of any kind of garbage receptacle in the streets of the city. I do not think the city is organized enough to worry about garbage collection, and now I recall a kind of frightening story that some people from our hostel were telling the night before. A group of 20 or so overlanders came to the hostel in the evening, and at least part of them went out to eat at the same place we had, but ended up staying there much later. On their way back, they were stopped by a group of policemen, who asked to see their passports and visas. Ok, the Mozambique police are scary and some are definitely corrupt. They drive around in trucks and have big guns, maybe AK-47s, and have an air of smugness about them. So these policemen were holding these tourists because they knew they were an easy target and a way to make quick cash basically. They were able to get them to back off with a little cash, and I am really glad that did not happen to Kelsey and I, especially because it seemed to really affect some of the people rather badly.
So anyway after the market Fred came to get us, and we explained to him that we wanted to go to Bilene. He then said that he knew of a bus that would go straight to Bilene, instead of the indirect way that we had been planning on.
Our way to the bus area was crazy, first because there were so many people milling about everywhere, and second because people do not pay much attention to the rules of the road, if there are any there really. As we approached the station, this only magnified, and it took a long time to navigate our way through the crowds of people. There were a lot of crowds because we were basically driving through a flea market this time, and Fred said it was the largest shopping area in town. It was quite entertaining though. Fred called the bus for us to make sure it would wait for us, and sure enough when we got to the station (there wasn’t really a station, it was just an open dirt area where the buses went to) and Fred helped us unload, talked to the driver, told us how much it would cost, and made sure we got in safely. I am truly amazed at how nice everyone was the whole trip helping us out with transportation.
The bus wasn’t a bus like the kinds of buses we have, but it was more like a large van/truck hybrid, and seated maybe 25 people when completely packed, which it eventually was. There was a small cart-like trailer hitched to the back to pack in extra luggage and other large items so more people could fit in. We were seated at the back next to a window thank goodness, because it got pretty warm and the air was nice. After we had quite a few people squished in, we started out, but again, this was very slow because we were still in the shopping district. We passed through some housing, which was pretty ramshackle but different from the townships in South Africa that I had seen, which seemed to have a more authoritarian air somehow than these, I don’t know how to explain it really. We crawled at this snail’s pace until we got to a highway, but soon stopped again at a gas station to pick up some more people and some supplies. We also got our first taste of the window vendors I will call them. Every time our bus pulled off the road to let someone on or off or to pick up something, people with cold drinks, snacks, fruit, etc would literally run up to the bus and show things in the window and call out prices and names of items etc. It was a bit surprising at first because I had never been in a situation like that, but it was also quite convenient, although it also made me wonder if this is the only job they have.
We moved from city to farmland quickly, but the road was constantly a busy place until we were an hour or so out, when only occasionally would we pass a stand. Consistenly though, most, if not all of the buildings there were covered completely in advertisements, usually for coke, Vodacom, or mcel (these last two are cell phone companies). Maybe these buildings were built by these companies? I don’t really know. A curious thing we passed by was a large stadium, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, with a large gate at its entrance with Chinese writing on it. I had no idea at the time, but Mozambique and China are old friends, beginning with Mozambique’s independence struggle back in the 1960s. In fact, it might have been the national soccer stadium that China is building Mozambique largely for free.
I think it took us around four hours or so to make it to Bilene, when really it should have taken two at the most. Bilene was a very small town, and was quiet and peaceful compared to Maputo. We had researched a place to stay called Praia do Sol, which was supposed to be the closest thing to a hostel in the area. We asked how to get there, and discovered that we had to walk 2 km up a sandy road to get there. A man from our bus was going in that direction and knew where it was, so we followed him. He didn’t speak English so we didn’t converse, but he was very friendly anyway. We lugged our bags along this deep sandy road with the sun beating down on us. The neighborhood we passed was quite nice, quaint, laid back; how you would expect any beach town to be. Bilene was not located on an ocean beach exactly, as there was a big blue lagoon in the way first, but that was one of the draws of this place.
When we got to Praia do Sol, we quickly realized that it must have changed a lot from the info about it that we had read. It was pretty swanky, and had bungalows for people to stay in. It was waaaaay more than we were hoping to pay, but there was nowhere else we could have gone unless we wanted to trek a lot more, and at this point we were pretty exhausted. Good thing it was off season though, because that made it slightly cheaper. Dinner and breakfast were included though, so that was a perk I guess. We were assigned our own bungalow with two rooms and a bathroom that was located on a hill surrounded by bushes. It was made from bundled straw and had a little balcony, and there were nice white sheets with mosquito nets to match. It was definitely a very nice change from the dorm beds in hostels. After settling in, we headed down to the beach area for a while and hung out, swung in the chairs, and relaxed in the quiet atmosphere. It was especially quiet considering we were the only guests there, and I felt kind of bad that the employees had to do their jobs just for us, but I guess we paid for it. For dinner, I had a barracuda fillet and I think Kelsey had a steak, and it was all delicious and pretty fancy. We then retired to our bungalow and read for a while.
The next day we had a nice big breakfast and then headed down the stairs to the lagoon beach. The sand was white and fine, and we spent half of the day reading, tanning, swimming, relaxing. There weren’t many other people anywhere down the beach, but I’m sure there would be lots more in the summer season. To South Africans, Mozambique is kind of like Mexico. They speak a completely different language, there are nice beaches, and the atmosphere is kind of similar according to Kelsey (I have never been to Mexico – shame).
In the afternoon we got a shuttle back to town and caught the bus back to Maputo. It was a similar experience as the trip over, except this time we were sitting next to this adorable kid who we think had AIDS. Kelsey knows more details about the disease than me, and recognized the signs. It was honestly the first person I had been so close to with AIDS that I knew about, and it was really sad. He was having a hard time breathing and seemed weak, and he was so young, no older than 5. It really hit me that so many people do not have access to ARVs and other drugs or prevention measures and knowledge. I knew that HIV and AIDS is a huge problem in sub-Saharan Africa, but until I actually sit next to a suffering child did it actually seem real.
When the bus reached its final destination in Maputo, we caught a minibus to go back to the hostel. We had to transfer to another minibus, and again, we had lots of help from the drivers. At the hostel, Kelsey was stressing a bit about her housing situation back in Berkeley because she had to figure out where she was going to live next semester and she was having difficulty communicating with her friends. So after a while we decided to go to an internet café which was down the street a couple blocks. Even though it was night, the hostel assured us that the neighborhood was pretty safe, and it seemed so indeed. The internet café was located on the upper level of a little bakery and pizza place. It was cute and very European looking, and we decided to get a bite to eat there as well. It was fun trying to translate the menu into English. Oh, morango is strawberry. I thought it was mango, but either one makes for a good milkshake.
The next day we went to a minibus station and made plans to get to South Africa again. We didn’t have any rands (South African currency), so we had get the local currency to buy some so we could get a minibus. Kelsey and I knew the currency conversion from meticais (Mozambican currency) to rands, and it seemed like they were ripping us off. I haggled with them a little bit, and we got a bit more than originally agreed upon. We settled in to a minibus, and waited for a long time until it filled up. That’s one of the drawbacks to minibus transportation. There is no schedule of times, so the drivers leave when the van is as full as possible to get the best fare. It was pretty cheap for us to get from Maputo to Nelspruit as it only cost R100 each.
When we made it to the border post, we had to get out and go through the standard procedure, which was a lot faster than the last time. We met the driver back on the South African side, but had to wait for everyone else to get through too. There were some people selling grilled meat and drinks, so we got a nice cold soda and an ice cream bar because it was really hot. As we were hanging around, two South African policemen who we saw a little earlier came up to Kelsey and me and told us to follow them. They said they wanted to show us the new border post, which was in construction. We were a little wary to follow for lots of reasons, but mainly because we didn’t want to be left by the driver. He seems unconcerned, so we just followed. They opened the chain link fence to show us the construction. It seemed like it would be a very nice border post, with natural stone walls on the buildings. We complimented the progress but I was anxious about the minibus, so I insisted we head back. It was a pretty funny experience looking back, because they were just trying to impress us. We then soon continued on our journey, and made it to Nelspruit in the late afternoon. A guy from South Africa who had been living in Mozambique for the last 15 years in some kind of boating business from our minibus was staying at the same hostel as us, so we shared a cab over there. He came to Nelspruit to figure out his visa problems he was having because the embassy was located there. Nelspruit is the capitol of the Mpumalanga Province, and is a big hub for people heading off into Kruger National Park where all the animals are. We got some grub, and chilled for the rest of the evening, played some pool, etc.
The next morning we waited for the Baz Bus to take us to Johannesburg.It got there around noon, and it was late afternoon when we finally got to our hostel in Soweto. We went through quite a bit of Josie (that’s another name for Jo’burg), and it is a very industrial and commercial laden city. There were ads everywhere, and lots of big stores. A lot of South Africans consider Jo’burg to be a very materialistic city as well, meaning that people care a lot about displays of wealth and status. Jo’burg is definitely the most populous city in South Africa, and it sprang up largely due to gold mining. The hills around the city are mostly man-made as a result of this mining. They are large bar-like hills of a light colored soil – actually they kind of look like bars of gold in a way.
Kelsey and I were picked up by another shuttle to take us to Soweto, where we were to stay for the night. Soweto stands for Southwest Townships, and is only a few kms from the main city. We passed by the new Soccer City stadium on the way over. It was being finished for the World Cup, and was designed after a traditional beer calabash. The tented top was supposed to be the foam of the beer.
Our hostel is one of the only hostels in Soweto, and is known for its bike tours of the area. Kelsey and I signed up for one the next day. This night was Thanksgiving back home, and we had a pretty darn good meal at the hostel. There were sweet potatoes, beets, beef stew, and pap. We ate with a girl from Cape Town who was taking a vacation from her own hostel job. After eating, we hung out outside with the workers and the few other guests that were there. We sat around a fire and listened to this older man play the guitar and sing some reggae-type songs. There was a clear rasta vibe to the hostel, and it was very laid back.
In the morning as Kelsey and I were eating breakfast, a staff member told us that instead of the full day bike tour that we were planning on doing, we should consider going to the apartheid museum first and then do a half-day tour. Although she didn’t say this, we knew it was because some other people were doing this same thing too and it would be a lot easier if we followed suit. We were planning on going to the apartheid museum the next day when Kelsey’s mom came to meet up with her, but we were closer to it now so we decided to see it today. We joined the other people in the group, and headed over.
We only had a few hours to go through the whole museum, so we weren’t able to read all the details which was fine. Right away the museum seeks to make the experience emotional and leave an impact on you. You and the members of your group are randomly given a card that says either “white” or “black.”The entrance is split into two doors for each race, and you have to enter the one that corresponds to your card. In the hallway of the entrance are the identifications and passbooks of many people, which people had to carry on them at all times. There were quotations of how families were split up because one child was lighter or darker- skinned enough to be classified as a different race, thereby giving them different rights than the rest of the family. A person’s classified race could be changed based on who was judging too. This section was meant to show just how trivial and ridiculous racial judgments and classification was during and before apartheid.
The rest of the museum goes through the history of apartheid and does so in a critically ad engaging way. It was a somber yet moving experience, and I would recommend it to anyone who wants to better understand the full scale of apartheid, which can be a little hard to understand just by reading about it.
There was also a temporary exhibit about Mandela, which was equally well done. It covered his entire life, from his childhood in the Transkei, his time as an attorney/ANC advocate in Johannesburg, his 27 years of imprisonment, his presidency, even his personal life. It really made you feel the greatness of this man, his sacrifices, struggles, triumphs, and accomplishments. I’m glad that it also continued to make him relatable and human, because I think that is one of the great things about him as it inspires others more easily. I am currently reading his autobiography, “A Long Walk to Freedom,” which I would absolutely recommend to anyone.
I got distracted a few things while going through the museum because a small crew was filming some kind of tour or something in there. There were two guys with Volkswagen shirts being led through the museum by a lady, and they stopped in each area to film a short segment. I feel that I am in the background of several of these shots, but I have no idea what it was for.
After the museum, we headed back to Soweto for our bike tour. With our luck, it started raining just as we were heading out. It only lasted a short time however, and it was quite striking at times because there was some nice lightning too. Our tour guide was very nice, and he told us a lot about Soweto, which has a strong culture of its own. There are slang words unique to the area, and so many important things happened there for South African history and the fight against apartheid that it is amazing.
We went by a poorer area of Soweto first where the old boarding buildings for the miners are still in use but for families. We were shown the inside of a boarding building that has since been split up into small houses, but they are still very small. Water has to be shared between multiple houses from a faucet, and toilet facilities are much the same. I think pictures really speak for themselves here:
We also went into a “shabeen” which is an informal pub essentially. We hung out with some older locals who have nothing else to do but drink homemade beer all day and talk. The beer is called umqombothi (a Xhosa word pronounced sort of like this: oom- comb-BOAT-ee, except there is a click on comb made by bringing the tongue down from the roof of your mouth), and it is made from maize (corn), maize malt, sorghum malt, yeast and water. It is served in small buckets and has a lower alcohol content and is cheaper than your average beer. It tasted milder than normal beer and was milkier in both taste and complexion.
From there we passed a new group of apartments that were built for families, and one had to apply to get in. We then went to a butcher and tried some cow head, a local favorite. It comes from the area around the cow’s brain, and I am really glad we did not see its source. Cow or sheep head is also called “smiley,” because it is cooked whole and the lips burn off to reveal the animal’s teeth. There were chunks of the meat on a board with a little pile of salt and chili powder for dipping. Everyone in our small group was brave enough to try it, good for us. I tried to get the piece that looked the least gross, meaning that it looked closer to a normal chunk of meat than one with chewed up grey bubble gum mixed with it. Sounds delicious I know. It actually tasted like normal beef; it was just the texture that really killed it. It was chewy and slimy and I tried my best not to make faces as I ate it, but that failed. I was also worried that I would not be able to swallow it, but I forced myself to, and finally got rid of it. A group of kids came by to eat what we hadn’t, and I was very happy to get rid of it.
We also ate this for lunch. I can't remember what it was called, but it miles better than cow head.
We next went to a more wealthy section of Soweto. The streets were paved a clean, and the houses were quite nice even though they were small. We then went past Winnie Mandela’s house, Nelson Mandela’s old house, Desmond Tutu’s house, and the houses of some other prominent South Africans.
Archbishop Desmond Tutu's house
We then stopped by the Hector Pieterson Memorial. Hector was a 12 year old school boy protesting the imposition of an Afrikaans-only education with hundreds of other schoolchildren in the Soweto Uprising of June 16, 1976 when he was shot and killed by police. He was one of the first of 23 young children killed during the peaceful protest. The image of his death has become iconic, both of the struggle against apartheid and its policies and the brutality of the police. The memorial plaza and museum was erected in 2002 at essentially the same place he was shot.
The bike ride itself wasn’t too difficult, but there were some hills and traffic to be aware of. I really enjoyed the whole thing and think that it was a definite highlight of my time in South Africa. If you ever get the chance, go to Lebo’s Soweto Backpackers. You will love it.
After getting back and resting for a while, we got a shuttle back to Johannesburg and settled in to our last hostel. As I mentioned before, Kelsey’s mom was meeting her in Jo’Burg. They were going to go to Victoria Falls and some safaris for a week or so, so I was going to head back to Cape Town on a bus when they left tomorrow. This last hostel we were staying at was called Brown Sugar and this experience was different because there was a ton of kids there. It was a school group from Mpumalanga Province and we didn’t ever get a clear idea of what they were in Jo’burg for exactly. They were running all over the place. They also gathered into a room and sang some songs for a while, which sounded quite nice. Later that evening when the kids had to go to sleep, Kelsey and I were playing Scrabble when one of the adults of the group joined in. I don’t think she completely got the point of the game, but it was fun anyway.
The next day, Kelsey’s mom met us at the hostel. We had some time to kill before my bus left, so we decided to head downtown to see what there was to do. We planned on going to this place called Constitution Hill, but the taxi driver couldn’t find it. After a while, we scrapped the idea and headed over to the arts district. We wandered around some shops and then stopped for lunch at this nice restaurant that was a favorite of a lot of famous people. I had a traditional dish, which was some beef knee in corn and bean stew or something like that. It was very good, even though I didn’t know how to eat meat off of a knee bone so I largely ignored it. It was then time for me to get to the station, so we headed off in a taxi.
I got my ticket from the window and had some time to wait, so I sat down and did some people watching. When I finally got onboard, I got myself a nice window seat and settled in for the 14 hour ride back to Cape Town. The bus line that I used was called InterCape, and I guess the owners are some religious people. There were screens on the bus, and pretty much the whole ride they played ridiculous Christian films or sermons. It was amusing more than anything. I got to see more of the countryside and some smaller towns, but really nothing I was close to the beauty of the Western Cape. I did see an amazing sunrise, which was a great way to end a wonderful trip.
