Africa - 2008
by: Pauline E. Abbott
Monday 6 October
Jim and I flew from London Heathrow with South African Airlines. Our flight to Johannesburg was on time, and was in every way successful. Most of the flight was in darkness, but the `virtual view’ afforded by the flight map was most interesting. More used to seeing the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean on our travels, it was fascinating to chart our progress across the land masses of Europe and Africa, with names conjuring up exotic locations.
Breakfast over Botswana was rapidly followed by Jetting into Johannesburg, where we were very relieved to collect our cases. Johannesburg has a bad reputation for lost and stolen baggage, but ours made it to the transfer between international and domestic departures. Trying not to remember any of the horror stories, we allowed a very cheery – and, it turns out, completely trustworthy - `assistant’ to seize and wheel our cases ahead of us. We entrusted our larger two cases to their next perilous proximity to oblivion, and returned to the main hall to exchange some currency. For one hundred pounds I received 1420 rand. The date had by now of course changed to
Tuesday 7 October
At gate E12 we found a bus, and beyond the bus a very small plane with – honestly! – propellers!!! Not only that, but we were told even carry-on baggage must be checked, as there was little storage space within the cabin. This manoeuvre is a well-known scam by unscrupulous handlers who then disappear with the carry-on bags in which one has been advised to carry all one’s valuable items! I scooped my most valuable items out of my carry-on and into a plastic bag to be clutched to my side, and watched my small case disappear into the hold. Was a gang of international thieves concealed in there, just waiting for my worldly wealth? Well, at least they wouldn’t get my purse, my new camera, my jewelry, nor Barnaby. My binoculars, my cosmetics, and my unfinished Terry Pratchett would have to fend for themselves. Again, all fears were unfounded, and our luggage survived to be restored to us in Nelspruit, the capital city of the province of Mpumalanga.
We were met by a driver who took us to our hotel, the Emnotweni Sun. From our room, 417, we could see across the river the Lowveld National Botanical Garden, which I had resolved to visit.
There was obvious reluctance at the front desk when we mentioned this plan and asked for directions. At first we were told it was `too far’ to walk, and the Emnotweni Mall was suggested – apparently a more usual destination for western tourists. Protesting that we were good walkers, and that we could see the gardens from our window, brought forth the hesitant information that we would have to walk through `the bush’ to get there. Concerned black faces conferred with other such faces in Afrikaans, and we could tell there was something no-one wanted to tell us, but finally one young lady said that taking a recommended taxi would be all right, provided we called the same company, or the hotel, to get us back. We agreed to this, and a recommended taxi was called.
On our way to the gardens – a very short distance, and a cheap taxi ride – we noticed that our route led through an area of very basic homes, with numbers of only black youths and children out on the street. This does not necessarily mean that this is a high crime area, as it might in, say, Los Angeles, but just that it is a black area, where it would be inappropriate for unaccompanied white tourists with cameras to walk around. Protection is appropriate for both black and white – the black area protects its values as much as the white tourists protect their valuables. There is no way the hotel staff – who may well live in this area themselves – could explain this without giving offence, and no way we can come to understand it until we have been a while in
Large Bug
The Lowveld National Botanical Garden is on the famous Garden Route through South Africa. Our map indicates a circular trail through the main garden, plus a river trail overlooking the Crocodile River. You might think the latter sounds more hazardous, but the circular trail was not without danger. Relays of huge sprinklers were busy watering the plants … and the paths … and us! I didn’t so much mind getting sprayed, but a vague memory that mosquitoes were attracted to water in otherwise dry places led me to button my coat and turn up my collar!
We descended first to an overlook with views of spectacular waterfalls, before setting off on the circular path. Many varieties of trees were carefully labeled, with only occasional bright splashes of colour from the spring flowers. Other colour was provided by a green, red and black bug, almost the size of my fist.
The garden proved itself worthy of inclusion in our itinerary by offering up a tea shop at exactly the right moment. In the open air, shaded partly by traditional African thatch, it offered various choices of set teas. We ordered `tea for two’ which, as it arrived, impressed us with its huge array of sandwiches, crisps, pickles, scones, jam and cream. To our further surprise, a duplicate array arrived to make it `for two.’
What a good thing we were so sustained, as Jim then led us on the further part of the river trail, hung about with signs warning of steep slopes up and down, perilous rocks, and slippery paths. All these materialized.
We emerged via the Visitors’ Centre at the opposite end of the garden, called our recommended taxi, and were whisked safely back to our hotel. David and Sue Ellen had arrived late in the afternoon, and we met later for a walk to the friendly neighbourhood mall.
We found ourselves in an entire Emnotweni complex. From our Emnotweni Hotel we crossed the road to the Emnotweni Casino, skirted this, and entered the Emnotweni Mall. Many shops were `chains’ familiar to any western shopper, but these were interspersed with ethnic surprises. Noticing a Woolworths, I tried and bought a pair of light-coloured safari pants, such as I had been unable to find at home. Jim found an African hat. In a bookstore, I scanned the Afrikaans section, and was delighted to find an Afrikaans Cinderella. I also bought a notebook to record notes for this trip. There were many ethnic gift stores, where we admired craft items, but did not buy, as we didn’t want to carry extra stuff around yet.
Back at the hotel, preparing ourselves for dinner, I made the frightening discovery that I had forgotten my malaria pills, so carefully obtained, and essential insurance for this area of Africa. My panic, along with tiredness after travel, led to a depression. What was I to do?
I made it through dinner in the hotel, which I would have enjoyed if I hadn’t been frantically calculating – should I seek a local doctor? But was there time? Should I call my sister to mail the pills to our Cape Town hotel, sharing Jim’s supply in the meantime? But what if they didn’t get there, and then HE got malaria? Should I just spray myself thickly with mosquito repellent and pray? I felt so angry with myself for such a stupid, and potentially dangerous, mistake.
However, as I mentioned my problem, the universe resolved it. Malaria pills were necessary only in THIS area of Africa, while we are in the Kruger National Park, but not in Cape Town, which is not a malaria area. I had known this, and ordered the correct number, but Jim had not, so had enough pills to take for the whole trip. This meant, he had ALMOST enough to supply my need, also! David and Sue Ellen had also ordered the correct number but, because the pills are supplied in boxes of 12, actually had one more each than they needed – and they offered to let me have the one I needed to make up Jim’s number!! So, thanks to my friends, my life was spared, and I did not perish.
One more trivial problem remained. My new safari pants were about 10 inches too long, so I had to cut and hem them before I went to bed.
Wednesday 8 October
With all my problems solved I woke up cheerfully, pulled on my new safari pants, and breakfasted at eight o’clock. We were all picked up at 9:00am by Johann. He loaded our cases into his trailer, and we piled into his van. Jim sat in front, Dave and Sue behind, and I tucked into the small seat at the back.
Johann proved an excellent guide, as well as driver. An older man, who had worked this route for many years as a guide and now worked freelance when called to drive, he seemed to relish the opportunity to stretch his old tour guide skills. He hardly stopped talking all the time we were with him, knowing and eager to pass on so much information about our surroundings, and absolutely bursting with political opinions which he repeatedly swallowed back before he said too much, explaining that he was forbidden by his employers to talk politics, nor to smoke. We didn’t fully realize until much later – on the return trip, in fact – our good fortune in getting Johann, who turned our necessary transition into an extra long game drive.
Kudu
Our route at first wound through the extremely fertile countryside around Nelspruit. On either side we saw acres of fruit trees, nuts (including macadamia), bananas, vines, and murela trees, which we were to learn were the source of a delicious liqueur. Bright ornamental trees, like the purple jacaranda, dotted the green hillsides.
Johann pointed out less prosperous areas – the native areas. Here the homes that lined the road ranged from shacks to the plain grey blocks being built as fast as possible by the government. The roads through them were lined with carelessly tossed litter – paper, bottles, plastic of all kinds. Johann struggled to explain without expressing an opinion. Apartheid is still very much a living memory, when people were allocated living areas according to the colour of their skin, and when the white settlers – mostly British and Dutch – developed the land to their own advantage, denying opportunity to native Africans to do the same. Though everyone is now free to move and to live where they choose, in practice many groups have stayed where they were settled, and where they feel comfortable. And `feeling comfortable’ does not always include adopting western values of work, education, sanitation. Many of these settlements are occupied for the most part by women and children, whose menfolk travel to find lucrative work in the mines, returning home infrequently. The present government is implementing improvements as fast as it can, but is further hampered by waves of immigration as refugees flee other African countries whose regimes are oppressive or unenlightened. Zimbabwe, for instance, is a northern neighbour.
We entered the Kruger National Park via a gate in the perimeter fence. The fence is designed not only to keep animals in, but to keep poachers out, and the gates are closed each day at twilight. Our Luxury Tented Accommodation (at this point I still wonder how that description can make sense) is within the park. We pay our entrance fee, Johann takes the opportunity to smoke, and I buy a guide book.
Back on the road, we wonder which animal will be the first to reveal itself. Odds favour some kind of impala, as there are 166,000 of these at last count. But no – our first sighting is of a giraffe, closely followed by our next, a kudu.
Ground Hornbill
Now I realize the disadvantages of my seat in the back. Quite comfortable as to space, since I fold up small, and I have been able to look out each side, I now discover that the back windows don’t open. Jim begins shooting away at the front, and David and Sue Ellen quickly open their windows as soon as any game is spotted. Things could have worked out OK if I could have leaned forward and taken my shots after theirs, but by the time they had lined up their viewfinders, exchanged cameras and information on how to use THAT one, my window of opportunity was past.
Cervet Monkey
My first actual photograph – not a good one – was of a nyala, taken over a shoulder. Then, in the distance, in a sandy river bed, we saw a bird called a hammerkop.
Eventually I became more assertive, and when a magnificent Ground Hornbill came walking alongside our car, as soon as Johann stopped I leaned forward before any obstruction could get in my way and took my second photograph. As we gazed in wonder, Johann told us how rare this bird is, laying only four eggs in a lifetime. It can fly, but normally chooses to walk.
Our next sighting was a water buck, and shortly after that a Cervet Monkey came and posed beside our car.
I determinedly took many pictures when we came across a group of zebras. Of course they are pretty striking even one at a time, but what wonderful patterns they make when in a group, their stripes leading the eye this way and that.
A tiny steenbok came next, very close to the road. This is the smallest kind of antelope, and a sighting is comparatively rare.
Getting quite close to our destination, we stopped for a while at the overlook to Lugmag Dam, a popular watering hole. We could see one giraffe, and gnus, but these were all in the distance.
We arrived at Hamilton’s, our lodge, at around 12:30, just in time to see the backs of a couple of elephants leaving after taking a mud bath. Hamilton’s overlooks a river, which is dry at this time of year, but which still has several water holes within view of the patio area where we were to take most of our meals.
Johann had called ahead, so Elmarie Gutschmidt, the lady in charge of our lodge, was ready to greet us. She took us into the luxurious lounge area, filled with comfortable sofas and chairs, and lined with books about Africa and the animals we might expect to see. Here she explained our daily routine, and told us a few precautions. Our routine seems to be all eating and driving! We shall be awoken at 5:30am for coffee, and leave for a three-hour game drive at six. Coffee and a little something will also be served at some interesting spot en route. When we return at nine we will eat breakfast. Lunch is served at 1:30pm, followed by high tea at four, and at four thirty we leave again for our three hour evening drive. Cocktails and snacks are served during this drive. Dinner will be ready for us each evening as we return. Should we grow hungry or thirsty at any time between these set repasts, we are introduced to Lodovico, our butler, whose pleasure it will be to provide anything for us, at any hour of the day or night! He, or one of the other staff, will also escort us along the raised wooden walkways between each tent and the main tent after dark, when we are forbidden to walk alone.
Bathroom with a View, Tent 5
I began to understand the connection between tent and luxury when we and our luggage were escorted to Tent 5. This does have a two-layer tented roof, but is more like a cabin, with wooden walls and floor, and windows on two sides overlooking the dry river bed. Large glass doors lead onto a wooden balcony. A small glass door leads to an outdoor shower, shielded from curious eyes – animal or human – by wooden slats. More conventional ablutions can be made in a bathtub, which also provides views over the river. A huge and comfortable bed, which turns out to be two beds, is protected by swathes of mosquito nets, which will be unfurled by our butler – of course – before we retire each night. We have electricity, we have constant hot water, we have telephone contact with the main tent. Luxury indeed.
We make haste to use these facilities, as it is now time for lunch. Lodovico shows us to our table, elegantly set in the open on the patio, with views up and down the river bed. To our delight, an elephant is strolling towards us, and a family of baboons are relaxedly grooming each other in the sand. At the moment we are the only four guests, though another couple is expected later. We enjoyed a leisurely lunch, congratulating ourselves on having chosen such a perfect spot, and wondering how we could ever return to lives without a personal butler.
Baboons Grooming
There really doesn’t seem to be much time between the end of lunch, and the serving of high tea. There is just time to don items suitable for safari – in my case, my new white hat securely fastened with a scarf – to collect all our cameras, and to be introduced to our driver, Harald. Harald is another of those informative drivers who loves his job, and takes great pleasure in sharing his knowledge with us. Not only that – he has bar-tending skills, and takes our requests for what we would like as a sundowner on our evening drive. David and Sue Ellen opt for water, but Harald is all approval when Jim orders a beer and I request a gin and tonic.
At four thirty, when we are due to leave, an elephant just happens to be taking a mud bath in the water hole below us, so we hang around to watch this. Harald knows this elephant, as he knows many of the local animals, and points out individual characteristics. Then, we’re off. Our vehicle is a Land Rover, with Harald and all his equipment, including a rifle, in the front, then three rows of seats open all around, but with a protective roof. We are told the animals are used to seeing vehicles, and mostly don’t bother with them, but we are strictly forbidden to leave the vehicle at any time or place not designated by our driver. There would, in fact, be little reason to do so, as Harald is expert both in spotting animals and in positioning the Land Rover for the best angles. He is a keen photographer himself, with one of his shots of a leopard in a tree hanging on the wall back at the lodge. Jim and I took the seats behind our driver, and David and Sue Ellen sat behind us.
Our First Lion
Almost immediately we saw another giraffe, but that excitement was eclipsed as we came upon a lion, lying right in the middle of the road! A lion lies wherever he likes, of course, so we stopped to watch and photograph him. `Oh, wow,’ squealed Sue Ellen. `Sshh,’ the rest of us responded instinctively. Nonchalantly he looked us over, stretched, and walked slowly off to the left into the bush. We followed alongside him for a while, and were delighted that he led us to a female group, but these were further off, and camouflaged by foliage.
From this point on we saw many impala – so many that it almost became unremarkable. We begin to learn the difference between the many kinds of antelope, but it will take us the rest of our stay to get familiar with all the markings and the horns – and then there’s the distinction between male and female, adult and juvenile …
Buffalo
Two jackals showed up at the side of the road, and then we came upon a group of male buffalo. They were stationary, but looked as if they might have wanted to cross our road. Harald waited patiently, then even backed up to allow them undisputed right of way. He told us that the buffalo is amongst the most dangerous of animals, because it gives no prior sign that it is about to charge. Sure enough, our group gave no signs of aggression, but we, and they, continued to look at each other. Eventually we started up again along the road, leaving the buffalo still deciding whether they wanted to cross.
As it grew dark Harald drove us to a wide space, under the stars, allowed us out of the Land Rover and got out drinks and snacks from his store. I was ceremoniously handed my gin and tonic. Never have I enjoyed this drink more. The atmosphere was amazing. Of course the stars in the southern hemisphere are all different. We looked for the Southern Cross, but could not distinguish it. Nevertheless, all the stars shone brightly in this darkness so intense.
On our way home a scrub hare and a honey badger were pointed out, but honestly in the darkness I could see only their movement. As he drove, Harald swung a flashlight from side to side, illuminating the trees and hoping for telltale bright reflections of eyes that would betray bigger game – but no more tonight.
Each night Harald would call ahead to the lodge to alert them to our arrival, so each night we were greeted at the entrance by Elmarie, and Lodovico bearing welcome drinks. Tonight he served us our first amurela, the liqueur Johann had recommended. It was delicious, rich and creamy.
Dinner was served immediately. A further surprise was the haute cuisine of our menu. Starters were artistic, entrees creative, and desserts would melt in our mouths. Our choice of entrée this evening was duck or venison (impala). Now, my principles are obviously shaky here, but I couldn’t bring myself to order impala when I’d just been admiring them out in their natural habitat, so I chose duck. Jim had no such qualms, and ordered venison. I tried a little piece of his, and it was delicious. And, I eat beef in spite of cows, and lamb in spite of sheep, and I’ve admired a few ducks, so what was my problem? Well, I enjoyed the duck.
Eating out in the open we could hear the night life of the African bush all around us, and this included a toad somewhere below us enjoying the water hole. David and Sue Ellen are staunch Democrats, and since Jim and I are undecided they would often lobby for our vote. (Well, Jim’s vote, and my good opinion only, since I’m an alien)
`Listen,’ I said, `that frog agrees with you. He’s saying `Barack, Barack, Barack.’
Sue Ellen was delighted. `It’s a sign from God,’ she said.
Our further discussions of politics, and religion, changed no-one’s mind this evening, but made stimulating conversation.
Impala below our Patio
An escort took us back along the walkways, flashing a light, as Harald had done, into the branches all around. On our pillows we found that night’s bedtime story – a delightful tradition that continued each night of our stay. We made use of our deep bath tub – probably vastly entertaining our neighbours, the baboons - and retired exhausted to the protection of our nets.
Thursday 9 October
We had agreed on a wake-up call at 5:30, but it was unnecessary. At around 4:30 a cacophony broke out in the trees above us and below us. Every species of bird seemed to want to welcome us. Baboons bounced around on the outer roof of our tent. Impalas crunched the leaves beneath our floor level. I rose and drew back all our blinds to watch the show. As Jim wrapped himself in a thick white bath robe and stepped out onto our balcony baboons scattered in all directions.
Promptly at six o’clock Jim and I were ready, sipping coffee with Harald on the main patio. He pointed out the water bucks, a group of which live underneath and around the lodge. He knows one of them individually, as it has a broken foot, so cannot forage so well, and will eat from his hand. As a general rule, it is unwise – and we are strictly forbidden – to feed the wild animals. Ecology demands that nature keeps her own balance as far as possible.
An Italian couple had arrived later last night, and were now to join us on our drive. David and Sue Ellen emerged about ten minutes later, and off we went again.
Again we passed many impala. There were no obvious lions, though we saw fresh tracks. Our first glimpse of big game this morning was a white rhino in the distance on our left. (All rhinos are grey, but some are called black, and some are called white.) Harald described this one as having `a mouth like a lawn mower’. The rhino’s ears swivel to pick up the faintest of sounds, and we hope he didn’t hear this comment.
Impala, Lugmag Dam
We saw another tiny steenbok, and a jackal, who at first sat in the road, but was then disturbed by a car coming in the opposite direction.
We returned to Lugmag Dam, and were rewarded by the distant sighting of a lioness, seemingly lying in wait behind a bush, and a group of impala on the opposite side, making their way down to the water’s edge. They reached the water and began to drink, arranging themselves in a line of very photogenic reflections. Still the lioness did not react. While we waited for a possible drama, we also observed a Fish Eagle and some Egyptian Geese in the water, and monkeys playing in the trees. The lioness never did move, and the impala eventually retreated, possibly without ever realizing their narrow escape.
Passing a group of guinea fowl, we drove on to the Nhlanguleni Picnic Spot. This is a wide circular area, fenced off, with toilets, and some tables and chairs. It is the job of one man, living in a hut close by, to maintain this area as a safe and clean stopping place, for which he is paid a small wage by the Kruger Park administration. We are forbidden to go outside the fence, but a central tree is obviously home to a flourishing family of hornbills, drawn there by the dropped crumbs, or perhaps the strange antics, of the human visitors in this exhibit! The Red Billed Hornbill and the Yellow Billed Hornbill are easily distinguishable from each other …
Red-Billed Hornbill
A water hole is in clear view from this picnic spot, and as we drink our coffee and nibble our rusks a succession of interesting animals arrive there. In this place, as in many others, I am so grateful for the increased zoom of my new camera, bought with this trip particularly in mind.
Two warthogs are spotted first, making like bookends in the distance. A herd of zebras arrive, their stripes making crazy optical illusions as they walk past and around each other to get to the water. Two giraffes strolled up, adding height to the picture, and the great entertainment of At the Waterhole watching their contortions to get their heads down to the level of their drink. A smattering of impala makes a final touch to the assembly. How photogenic can a scene get?
Back at the lodge, already enjoying their breakfast, we find an elephant, gnus, storks, and a slender mongoose. To my surprise, no-one had heard of the Gnu Song of Flanders and Swann, so I felt I had to introduce it to my captive audience, beginning –
`I’m a gnu, how do you do,
I’m the gnicest work of gnature in the zoo …’
and ending,
`Oh, gno, gno, gno, I’m a gnu.’
Probably they were all much relieved by the announcement of our own breakfast, a tempting buffet of cereals, fruits, breads, cheeses, from which we chose items to carry back to our table. Only then did we realize we had more choices to make, as we were offered omelettes, eggs any style, bacon, sausage … I wish also to record that omelettes at Hamiltons were, every single morning, each absolutely perfect. I was totally spoiled.
There was no rush – all we had to do was work up an appetite for lunch! Having learned the distinctive marking for bush buck (white spots on the flanks) we practiced spotting them among the grazers beneath our balcony. Jim began his first painting, and I wrote up my notebook.
Lunch at Hamilton's Lodge
During lunch we were entertained by warthogs, a stork, several bushbucks, and an elephant, all parading in our personal river bed. The temperature had risen sharply, and a hot, dry wind sprang up. We turned on the air conditioning in our tent, and Jim took a refreshing shower in our outdoor facility. I was not quite brave enough – I did not fear the peeping baboons, but I wasn’t eager to expose wet skin to thirsty mosquitos. As Jim started his second painting the sky darkened, and occasional flashes of lightning lit up the sky. The promised storm was arriving.
By the time we were due for our evening ride, drops of rain were falling, and we wondered if the ride would be curtailed. Harald brushed aside our concerns. `Africa’s not for cissies,’ he declared, and showed us the sturdy waterproof ponchos neatly folded on each seat of the Land Rover. The Italian couple had moved on after lunch, so once again we were the only four guests. We took our accustomed seats, moved off, and after only a few yards stopped for us all to don our protective gear, as heavy rain began to slice sideways under our roof. The hooded poncho covered everything, so we pressed on undeterred.
At first it looked like we might not see much activity. Like us, animals sought shelter. Harald seemed to know most other drivers in the area, and they would helpfully radio sightings to each other. There was excitement over the airwaves as a male lion was spotted. We doubled back and forth to keep him in view, and he led us to a female, but all were distant and camouflaged by foliage. Later we came upon more rhinos, closer to the road.
Harald drove us to an open area for sundowners. I had become known for my partiality to a gin, and this was ceremoniously presented. We flapped around rather as we maintained our ponchos, but the rain eased enough for us to enjoy our drinks and snacks. Suddenly, before these were finished, a shout came that someone had spotted a lioness, with many cubs! `Worth sacrificing a gin, even,’ grinned Harald, as he seized what was left to pour it away to make a quick getaway. Fortunately, I agreed.
My sacrifice was well rewarded. We drove to an open spot where a lioness and no fewer than seven lion cubs posed and played for us. The lioness stretched out, relaxed, though obviously keeping a watchful eye. The cubs were delightful, playing with and teasing each other, chasing and fighting and rolling over, just like kittens. We sat and watched for a long time. We even tried some photographs but, alas, it was too dark by now to get a good exposure. We have some dark, out of focus attempts.
The rain eventually returned with a vengeance. Lightning flashed and thunder roared all around. Spectacular bright forks of electricity shot to earth. We were treated to displays of African trees silhouetted against the changing sky. And, it seemed best to head for home, though Harald kept up the swinging flashlight, just in case bright eyes might reflect back at us from the trees.
A welcome glass of sherry awaited us back at the camp, and for the one and only time we dined inside. Our choice of entrée tonight was quail or lamb, and we discussed the space industry, nature, and our choice of movies.
We were escorted back to our tent where we downloaded our pictures so far, listened to the whistling wind, and enjoyed the flashes of lightning far into the night against the background of our flickering anti-mosquito candlelight.
Friday 10 October
Somehow I slept through the dawn chorus this morning, and awoke only with our wake-up call at 5:30. The storm had subsided, and the temperature had cooled.
Lioness
Our first sighting this morning was a bird, a Bateleur Eagle, and after that a duiker, which ran too fast for us to photograph. We were fortunate to see next another Ground Hornbill, considering how rare they are. Harald repeated Johann’s information, adding that conservationists are trying to increase its numbers by rescuing the second of the two eggs it lays, on two occasions per lifetime, before this dies or is eaten by the older chick (this is apparently called Cainism).
We were continuing carefully on our way when a lioness suddenly ran across the road in front of us at Kumana, causing us to brake hurriedly. We drove alongside her for a while, and she posed beautifully, turning her large, patient face this way and that.
Two kudu posed for us in sunlight. This is the second largest antelope, and eats only leaves, so is the first to suffer in drought conditions. It is distinguished by rows of stripes on its flanks.
Kudu eating leaves
A white rhino, on our left, showed us only a view of its backside – what Harald referred to as the Tourist View.
We stopped at Vutami for our morning coffee and snacks – not a designated spot, so Harald requested we stay in the vehicle. We looked out over the water, and saw Egyptian geese and, to their right, a Martial Eagle. We waited for him to fly, which he obligingly did just as I clicked my shutter. More serendipity than skill there!
We had taken a more tree-lined route today, with Harald trying his best to find the one of the Big Five that still eluded us, the leopard. He scanned the branches constantly, but there was no sign. At Tinhinguana we came upon a magnificent male lion, though he was at some distance.
We headed home via Lugmag Dam, where we have often had good sightings. Today we found only a saddle billed stork admiring his reflection in the water.
Zebra
But, almost home, Harald spotted a group of zebra, and they were accompanied by gnus. This is a common collaboration – the herds co-exist happily, one species eating the long grass and the other content with the short grass. As we moved on the two herds crossed the road behind us – the grass on the other side being greener, perhaps?
Another co-operative venture was described when we saw two ostriches in the distance. The male ostrich, in black camouflage, guards the nest by night, and the drab brown female ostrich takes the day shift, her earth tones blending into the – well – earth.
Five-Legged' Elephant
Very close to Hamilton’s Harald halted the Land Rover with the comment, `There’s a five-legged elephant.’ My goodness, we could see what he meant! On our right a large male stood with an unbelievably large penis hanging almost down to the ground. This elongation apparently takes place whenever the organ is used for any of its functions, and it takes time to restore itself to a more manageable size. In the meantime, this elephant wasn’t going anywhere, but was using his down time to munch on surrounding foliage. He obligingly went through several intricate trunk movements, allowing us to photograph them.
Back at Hamilton’s a superb breakfast, including another perfect omelette, followed. Today we discussed `holidays’ and if Hallowe’en counted as one.
David and Sue Ellen came back to our tent with us to see Jim’s painting. Martha came around to give Jim the massage he had booked, while I sat quietly in the corner writing my journal and enjoying the smell of the scented oils.
To allow for all this activity, lunch had been delayed to two o’clock today, and our local elephant was just leaving as we arrived. Once again we ate buffet style, overlooking the river.
Jim painted, I read Terry Pratchett’s Moving Pictures, and pretty soon it was time for High Tea, then our drive. The cooler temperature is accentuated with quite a chill wind. On each drive I have worn my white hat, firmly tied on with a scarf threaded through its brim, leaving my hands free for photography. This afternoon Sue Ellen emerged with all her gear about her, and declared `I’ve finally got myself organized.’ We all pricked up our ears hopefully. `I’m going to wear my hat like Pauline!’ Our hopes dashed, I couldn’t help commenting, `Oh, we thought you meant you had finally figured out how to work your camera.’ Yes, we laughed, but not unkindly. Their camera dialogue has become so much part of our daily life, we would miss it if it stopped.
Harald was obviously very eager to find a leopard at this last opportunity, and took us back to the more tree-lined route, but to no avail. We did first see some interesting birds. He noticed a Long Tailed Shrike in a tree, and carefully positioned the Land Rover so we could get a good shot. We also saw a Snake Eagle in striking silhouette against the sun. Harald is very knowledgeable, and also has a stash of bird and wildlife books in his vehicle lest anything comes up that stumps him.
Crossing a river bed, we observed many tracks, thrown into relief by the low sun. Harald alighted to inspect these, and also stopped a little further on to give a short lecture on all the information to be gained from a pile of rhino dung. This is used as a kind of message board by males, signaling dominance and acquiescence, according to where you make your deposit. More useful survival information followed – we saw a tree whose twigs can be used as a toothbrush, and learned how to use leadwood as toothpaste. Hopefully we’ll never actually need this information.
African Sunset (missing)
This seemed to be our evening for birds, as we next saw an African Hoopoe, then a Lilac Breasted Roller. The latter is spectacular. Harald forewarned us what to look for – a flash of iridescent lilac feathers as the bird rolls into the air. He then threw a pebble at the tree, and the bird obligingly demonstrated for us the manoeuvre that has given it its name.
We pulled up for sundowners under a baobab tree, also aptly named the upside-down tree. A beautiful sunset was made more intense by the addition of smoke from a fire started by yesterday’s lightning, and not yet completely extinguished. As we studied the night sky some of us, with help, managed to see Venus, and Jupiter, though still not the Southern Cross. I sipped my last gin and tonic slowly, against a background of jokes that it would be worth sacrificing, should we hear of any leopard close by. Well, the leopards have conspired to give us a reason to re-visit Africa. We drove home in the dark, sighting only a scrub hare, and various kinds of antelope.
We were greeted tonight with glasses of port, and dinner was again excellent. Elmarie joined us for a while, telling stories, and brought out the chefs to receive our thanks. Harald joined us briefly.
Saturday 11 October
I awoke for the dawn chorus again, birds accompanied by frogs. We had a bit of a lie-in today as we weren’t due to leave until 8:30.
We were certainly sad to say goodbye to everyone as they lined up to see us go. We were collected by the same company, but a much younger driver, who had little to say about the surroundings even when questioned. Sue Ellen volunteered to sit in the back seat this time, but there were to be no stops for photography as Jim and I had to get to the airport. We did see giraffes, zebras and antelopes on the way, and tried a few shots from the windows as we neared the plantations around Nelspruit.
View of Table Mountain from our Hotel Room (missing)
As it happened, it was a good thing we didn’t stop. Delivering us to the airport in, as we thought, good time, our driver then took David and Sue Ellen on to Nelspruit, where they had decided to spend an extra night. Jim and I found our flight had been brought forward one hour, it had already begun to board, and we were only just in time to catch it! Messages had been sent out by email, which of course we had not been able to access.
Seated hastily, we were further confused to find our flight to Cape Town was headed for Bloemfontein! It was only partly explained – fortunately before we tried to deplane – that this was to be a fuel stop, and was the reason for our flight to Cape Town being brought forward. This was another small plane, with seats the narrowest yet, and we observed three very wide-beamed African ladies headed towards the back. I had to restrain Jim from going back to discover just how they managed to sit down. (Later note – they were carrying what looked like native drums. I have learned these are `seat-fillers’, so wide-beamed customers can sit on top, above the narrow arms of the seats!)
We landed in Cape Town exactly on schedule, even though our flight was so strange, and we were driven to the Vineyard Hotel. From our room we had an amazing view. Table Mountain towered in the background, wreathed this evening with clouds half way up its slopes. Below us lawns and paths led to a garden, colourful with spring flowers. Hastily refreshing ourselves after our journey, we walked out into this paradise.
As the sun dipped behind the mountain we re-entered and were just in time to see Larry and Jo Campbell registering in reception. They were ready for a meal after their long journey, and so were we, so we met up in The Square Room, one of the hotel restaurants. Here we exchanged news of the past year’s events, before retiring fairly early. Once again, we discovered a bedtime story gracing our pillows – must be a South African tradition?
Watching the news as we got ready for bed, we were shocked to see the DOW had dipped below 9000!
Sunday 12 October
Table Mountain was revealed in all its glory this morning, bathed in sunshine. We met Larry and Jo again for breakfast. Though Jo and I are booked on the Companion Program, we all four decided we would like to see something of the local area on Jim and Larry’s only free day before the conference begins this evening. The hotel provides a Travel Desk, so we agreed to meet there.
At the Travel Desk we were fortunate to meet the most helpful and eager-to-please tour guide. He offered himself and his car for our use for the whole day, at a reasonable price. He described the places he thought we might like to see, and we chose from amongst them to make our own personalized tour. He would take about half an hour to prepare his car and fill its tank, and we could be off.
As he left, my eyes were suddenly covered from behind, and a `charming southern accent’ said `Guess who?’ `Its your favourite Texan,’ said Jim, giving me a further clue. Sure enough, it was Don Berry, who had just arrived, but not in the best of circumstances. He and Peggy had flown via the notorious Johannesburg, where they, too, had had the `you must check your carry-on baggage’ trick pulled on them. They had lost an entire suitcase, and also had discovered their camera missing from its case when the rest of their luggage was returned to them. Don had been involved in a discussion with the airline about what they planned to do about this situation. So far, he had been promised replacement compensation, but this involved considerable shopping that would probably take up his time today. We sympathized.
At ten o’clock we met our driver. He told us his name was Cledwyn! Well, I have only ever met one Cledwyn in my life, my cousin, so I told him this, and said `That’s a Welsh name.’ Cledwyn was delighted that I knew this, and told us that his mother had admired the British Member of Parliament, also Minister for Commonwealth Affairs, Sir Cledwyn Hughes and he was named after him.
We were to head south to the Cape of Good Hope, but via a route that took in many attractions on the way, about all of which, it seemed, Cledwyn had a good knowledge and some story to tell. Even before we left our hotel’s suburb of Newlands he pointed out the Rugby Stadium of the South African team the Springboks.
Camps Bay and Twelve Apostles (missing)
Driving north to get to the Atlantic coast road we saw in the distance the Elephant’s Eye Cave on the hillside, before we arrived at Camps Bay. This attractive tourist spot is overlooked by the Twelve Apostles formation on the western face of Table Mountain. In the opposite direction the tall peak of the Lion’s Head juts out into the ocean. We got out briefly at Camps Bay to stretch our legs, to photograph the scenery and each other, and to admire the beach with its rows of trendy street cafes and restaurants.
Making our way further south along Victoria Drive, between the ocean and the foothills of the Twelve Apostles, stopping occasionally when we spotted a whale or two out at sea, we turned slightly inland on the M6 to find the sea again at Hout Bay. Plenty of scenery here, too, at the foot of Chapman’s Peak, and with The Sentinel guarding the approach from the sea. Hout Bay has a picturesque fishing harbour, from which Seal Island can be seen. Above us on the slopes was one of the townships.
Cledwyn is a freelance tour guide, so apparently not forbidden by any code to discuss politics, and at this point in our relationship he simply pointed out our first township, and frankly explained some of its features. Apartheid is a living memory here, and the townships date from the time when the government allocated living areas according to the colour of people’s skin, uprooting and moving large groups of people to make the boundaries clear. In 1966 District Six was declared a White Group Area by the National Party, who then demolished all its residential buildings under their `slum clearance’ program. About 150,000 people were forced to move to the Cape Flats. As in Nelspruit, even after being given the freedom to live where they wished, people tended to stay in the areas where their lifestyle and values were shared by their neighbours, influenced also, of course, by economic and educational factors. The present government is working to build affordable homes to replace older shacks, to provide better schools, and to give the opportunity to climb the career ladder, but all these measures take time. They are also not always welcomed by people whose native lifestyle may well seem preferable to them to the observed pressures of western values. The inhabitants of the townships are known for their strong sense of community, and for the important part religion plays in their lives. And, while struggling to create a more educated populace who can seek jobs in the changing world, the government has been hindered by a flow of refugees from other African countries who are still fighting simply to survive. Cledwyn mentions all these factors matter-of-factly, with no apparent rancour but with both affection and pride, as one who has first-hand experience.
We continue to cross the peninsula from its western to its eastern coastline, passing through Muizenberg, then south via St James, Kalk Bay and Fish Hoek (Fish Corner). In Muizenberg we see many examples of interesting architecture, like Victorian English, but with a strong Dutch influence. Some of the mansions along the seafront date from the affluent era of the Witwatersrand gold millionaires. One preserved historical building is Rhodes Cottage, where Cecil Rhodes died in 1902. The town and its beach are now a popular venue for surfers, and this whole coast is known for whale-spotting.
Penguins, Boulders Beach (missing)
Kalk Bay is named for its chalk cliffs, through which, we are told, networks of caves lead back into the hillside. Between here and Fish Hoek is a cave where evidence was found of human habitation dating back 11,000 years.
We drove through Simon’s Town, enjoying its historic mile of Victorian facades, amongst which I was delighted to see a couple of pub signs! This was once an important navy town, and Cledwyn pointed out for our amusement the statue honouring Just Nuisance. This Great Dane apparently drank with the sailors in the town’s bars, and was the only one who stayed sober. To get the sailors back to their ship on time, he would round them up and get them onto the last train. Eventually he was made an honorary member of the crew – Able Seaman Just Nuisance – and after his death was buried with full military honours.
Cledwyn had recommended a place for lunch in Seaforth, and had called ahead to make a reservation, but when this had to be rather later than he planned he decided we should walk down to Boulders Beach first. Two breeding pairs of African Penguins started this colony in 1982, and there are now around 3,000 penguins living on this and adjacent beaches. Visitors are allowed on boardwalks, and we could look down from this gentle height directly on many penguins engaged in their varied activities – walking, swimming, grooming, showmanship (hooting and waving their flippers) or just standing and catching some rays. They were so photogenic it was almost impossible not to try to immortalize every one.
Our lunchtime came around, though, so we walked back up the beach path to the Seaforth restaurant. Cledwyn had recommended a local fish, the Kingclip, and the others tried this, but I was tempted more by the tiger prawns. All our lunches were delicious.
Cledwyn lunched with us, and in the course of conversation Jim asked him some general question, like, how had he got into the tour guide business, and how he liked it. During our time together I think we had all begun liking and respecting each other, and Cledwyn now chose to share some of his personal story with us. He told us how happy he was with his job – he loves the area, and it is a pleasure to him to spend his time driving around it and sharing it with visitors. Then he added with some pride how he had striven to educate himself, and to learn more about the area in classes and on courses, so that he could pass exams to be a qualified tour guide. Getting his own vehicle was a major step, and another source of satisfaction. He has a son who has some medical problems, which have brought expense, and apparently the young man expressed his concern about this. Cledwyn said he told him, `Never worry about that. Your mother and I can take care of that. Son, you are priceless.’ It was a very moving insight into our guide’s family life, and his pride in his ability to take care of his family.
But Cledwyn’s pride extended beyond himself and his family to his nation and his country. As I mentioned, he had spoken of the time of apartheid without rancour, and this became all the more remarkable when he told us that his mother had been one who had been forcibly re-located, and that he, as a teenager, had suffered two short spells in prison, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
From the 1600s southern Africa became home to many settlers from Europe, notably the Dutch and the British. The British put an end to slavery in the region in 1834, angering the Dutch, and leading eventually to the confrontation of the Anglo-Boer War from 1892 to 1902. The Boers formed the Union of South Africa in 1910, with their Louis Botha becoming the first Prime Minister. The National Party was voted in in 1948, and initiated apartheid, which lasted through the decades, until 1983 with the formation of the United Democratic Front. Nelson Mandela had been imprisoned in 1963 for his part in political demonstrations, and he was not freed by de Klerk until 1990, when the ban on the UDF was lifted. In 1994 Mandela was elected president.
Until Cledwyn told us his story, I had not heard the history of the ending of apartheid from someone closely involved in it. Now none of us could fail to be moved – in fact, inspired, by his simple telling, and by the pride and hope he obviously felt in being part of the solution. I had not realized the tremendous achievement of Nelson Mandela in engendering this kind of pride and hope. Rather than pursuing vengeance, Mandela had proposed and actually carried through his vision of Truth and Reconciliation. Under his guidance trials had been held, truths had been exposed, the fates of lost relatives and friends had been brought to light, but with the promise of forgiveness rather than retribution. He had recognized that for South Africa to go on and prosper, black and white must work together with the same ideals, rather than dwell on the bitterness of their previous relationship. Mandela could demand this of others, only because of his own suffering. He was asking no more of his countrymen than he was able to accomplish himself. And Cledwyn seemed the very epitome of the success of these ideals working out in an individual life. Cledwyn had taken his own opportunities for education and advancement, and shone with the idealism of how this could be achieved by those who
Ostrich with Chicks (missing)
agreed to work together, to advance the whole community. As a South African, he wanted South Africa to succeed, and rejoiced in its success. I felt inspired by his faith, and began to understand for the first time what the most visionary people in this country are striving for.
Well, time to move on to the next beautiful experience. After briefly looking round the little craft market in Seaforth we were due to head south again, appropriately, towards the Cape of Good Hope.
The Table Mountain National Park maintains the southern tip of the cape peninsula as a nature reserve. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site, also known as the Cape Floral Kingdom because of the variety and beauty of the native plant life. The collective word for this plant life is fynbos, kind of a scrub, and it is truly lovely, especially as we see it now in spring. Over 100 species of indigenous plants grow here. A carpet of variegated green is punctuated with bright yellow, orange and pink proteas, yellow and purple heathers, sugarbush, pink and scarlet pelargoniums, and yellow African daisies, to name only those that I recognize.
Cape of Good Hope (missing)
After entering the park the first wildlife we encounter are ostriches – a parent grazing on the green carpet with young chicks clustering around. In the distance we saw a group of kudu. There are supposed to be zebra, but Cledwyn confesses he’s never seen one here in all his visits. With some hilarity, we notice a zebra-striped vehicle parked at the foot of the funicular railway at Cape Point – have these shy inhabitants adapted to modern conveniences?
Our next adventure is to ride up the funicular railway, and to alight onto a pathway spiraling around the outcrop to give views out in all directions, and down onto the rocks below. There is one more level – its possible to climb another set of stairs to the lighthouse at the summit. Jim, Larry and Jo marched on up. I wimped out, and took all my photographs from the `wheelchair viewpoint’.
To reach the furthest point of today’s trajectory we drove on through the fynbos to the Cape of Good Hope, the most south-westerly point of the African continent, and photographed ourselves against the notice confirming this fact. The `south-west’ part is not in dispute. Other geographical extremes are hotly disputed. There is a point where the Atlantic meets the Indian Ocean, and Cape Point stakes a claim to be it, with even a definitively named Two Oceans Restaurant. Other points on the coast say this is not so. Oceanographers have used aerial surveys and temperature sensors to plot currents, and the `current thinking’ (!) is that the Atlantic and Indian Oceans meet at Cape Agulhas, the most southerly point of the African continent, which is a lot further on around the coast. Here the cold Benguela current mixes with the warm Agulhas current to create turbulent storms. But the Two Oceans Restaurant is not about to change its name for a bunch of nerdy oceanographers, nor will the Cape Point gift store easily abandon its profitable line of two-ocean souvenirs and postcards. The myth continues.
And so must we. After all, we are here to attend a conference, and it opens with a reception this evening. Our return journey must be swifter, to get us back in time, though Cledwyn obligingly took a different route, via Scarborough, to expose us to a few more beautiful and interesting views.
We returned to the Vineyard Hotel at 6:30, and thanked Cledwyn for the wonderful day he had given us. Yes, we can pay for his services, but his presence, his insights, and his inspiration, have been priceless – a part of my African experience I shall always remember.
We were only just in time, so Jim and Larry first went to register, then we seized a short time in our rooms to freshen up. I had just changed into my black-and-white top when Jim returned bearing the Companions’ gift from the conference organizers. It was black and white … it was long … the end fell out onto the floor … was it a belt? No, it was too long … wait a minute, it was a long zip … and as we slowly zipped the zip the long gift wound itself around and around … finally ending up as a black and white striped evening bag with a long strap and zipped top! I carried it proudly to the poolside reception, where many ladies were admiring each other’s accessory and exchanging tales of how they had figured out what it was.
David and Sue Ellen had arrived, having done nothing on their extra day in Nelspruit after all, except relax in their hotel. It would not have been kind to go into too much detail over the wonderful day we had just enjoyed. Peggy is there, also in black and white. She is wonderfully philosophical about their lost luggage. Looking on the bright side, she has done some interesting shopping today to replace necessary items. Along came Brian, whom we met first in Venice. He has since started his own company, and we sympathize with the ups and downs of this venture, which is now going well. Don and I rekindled our friendly rivalry. After Houston he had sent me a picture of the massive rear end of a lady, just to show me what he could do with photoshop, but he now declares himself too much of a gentleman to use such a weapon on me. We met Gwen, the conference travel co-ordinator, and thanked her for her excellent organization of our safari.
With the arrival of Lesley and Chris Yates (he is the token male in our Companions’ Program) the talk turned to politics. Ideologically speaking, Jim and I seem to be Republicans, with a belief in limited government and individual responsibility, but since the present administration has drifted further from this position we have become disenchanted. But the alternative is the Democratic extreme, which we can’t support, either. This leaves us rather at the mercy of the friends who have polarized into their respective camps during the ongoing election campaign. We have heard every possible Democratic argument from David and Sue Ellen over the past few days, and have listened to exactly the opposite viewpoint expressed by Larry and Jo today. So now we edge away, reluctant to get involved in an argument. Peggy is helpful here – seeming to want to stay out of it herself, she pulled us aside to ask about our safari. She and Don, Larry and Jo, and Mike and Kathy, are to go on safari themselves after the conference. This is a subject we can enjoy, and we eagerly start to tell her what a pleasure she has to look forward to. But, as we leave the political group, I hear Don’s contribution to the discussion, and it is touchingly sorrowful, coming from such a positive and confident personality. He speaks of Bush’s days in Texas, when he was governor, and says there he did a good job. He was able to get along with both sides, and men of goodwill of all persuasions met together and generally agreed on what was best for the state. He seems regretful that Bush expected this technique to work in Washington, and sad himself also that it didn’t. There is a poignancy in these comments that is more empathetic than the polarized party lines – though I believe Don can express these as forcefully as the next man, if’n he has to!
Peggy laughs with me about the Texan/British stereotypes, and swears she could teach me to sound Texan, `with attitude’. Now there’s a challenge!! It seems there’s a hair toss and a hip swivel that goes with each phrase, but as I dutifully try to imitate what she does, I conclude ruefully that its something you have to be born with. Never mind, we enjoy the practice.
Ed joined us, intrigued by the conversation, and kindly complimented me on the conference stories Jim has published on his website. I’m trying again to explain my views on the relative importance of the official ARA conference, and the contributions to World Peace made by the Companions, when we notice on the official program we are now described not as Companions, but as Non-Delegates! Now that is a step too far!! Defining us by what we are not? Time for a rebellion, I think.
Monday 13 October
Our wake-up call came at 7:15, and Jim and I went to breakfast at 8:00. We were joined by David. Don passed. `Are we still speaking?’ he asked. I wonder how many people he had teased yesterday evening … is he checking on everyone? I assure him we are.
In the lobby Gwen introduced us to our guide for today – her name is Gerry Berry! I now met Denise from South Africa, and Ute from Germany, and we were joined by Sue Ellen, Jo, Peggy, Kathy, Pamela and Chris. Other ladies I had yet to get to know made our number up to thirteen – very auspicious! We were to drive together to the Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden. Its in all my gardening books, and I was very excited.
Kirstenbosch Garden (missing)
The garden was established in 1913 by the joint efforts of Lord Lionel and Lady Sarah Phillips. She has had her husband commemorated in the form of a bell at the entrance. Before that, the land was bequeathed to the nation by Cecil Rhodes in 1902. He had purchased it in 1895, after its native timber had been plundered for fuel and building purposes. Rhodes replenished the trees with many varieties of species from all over Europe. The garden stretches from the more cultivated area on the lower slopes, all the way up the eastern side of Table Mountain, where it becomes a preserve of native vegetation and fynbos.
Parts of the garden commemorate its history. For instance, it contains part of an almond hedge planted in 1670 to mark the boundary of the Dutch settlement. The Dell, a bird-shaped pond, was cleared and planted in 1913 by HHW Pearson, the garden’s first director, who added his personal collection of more than 400 cycads in the grove above it. Pearson died in 1916 aged 46, and is buried on the slopes above the Dell. By 1926 the succeeding director, RH Compton, had added the Protea Garden, the Erica Garden, the Mesemb Banks, and the Great Lawn.
Blooming Bamboo (missing)
These major features were where Gerry Berry led us first, stopping occasionally to give a little talk on what we could see around us, and to allow the photographers and the out-of-shape to catch up. The Great Lawn was the first and most obvious landmark, but our path lay upward and onward to the Cyclads. And, as we walked, it was impossible not to stop and marvel at the many varieties of spring flowers in bloom! Yes, we of the northern hemisphere were constantly astonished at being surrounded, in October, by lilies, daisies, irises, strelitzia, aristeas, clivia, agapanthus, coral trees … I also paid particular attention to a species of bamboo that was actually attractively in bloom! Who knew bamboo could do that?
Proteas, Kirstenbosch Gardens (missing)
The bright sunshine of the lawns gave way to the shaded area of the Dell, and above this we came to the cyclads. I’m not sure I actually like these – they look grimly prehistoric – but they certainly are impressive.
Also looking prehistoric – perhaps waiting to be buried and pressed down into coal forest – are the proteas. These amazing flowers are a spectacular part of the indigenous fynbos, but have also been teased into many exotic colours and shapes. Most strelitzia look as they do in California, but a yellow variety has been bred and named Mandela’s Gold, and catches the attention with this unusual colouring.
Gerry led us on through the Braille Trail – a pathway through scented plants –and to a thatched structure which demonstrated how the earliest inhabitants of the area lived. Beyond this, we came to the area of Useful Plants – mostly medicinal herbs.
Strelitzia - Mandela's Gold (missing)
As the path wound downhill again, Gerry handed out lunch vouchers and said she would leave us now to wander at leisure, picking out our own areas of interest, as it would be impossible to cover the whole garden in the time we had. Indeed, I looked at my watch in dismay – we had only a short time left. In such circumstances there was only one course for me to take – wander around and see what the universe chose to show me. (This may be partly a rationalization for my inability to read maps.)
I came upon a formal garden, with beds set out with proteas of many colours. As I photographed these, happy singing met my ears - `If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands. If you’re happy and you know it …’ I followed the sound, and found a group of small schoolchildren with their two teachers, each of these ladies in colourful African costume. They looked, and sounded, wonderful – really an enhancement of my garden experience.
Further down the hill I met Peggy, also alone, but on her way to the restaurant for which we had vouchers. We teamed up to master the complicated system for getting food. We each had a 50 rand voucher, and found that food was served by weight. Now, your plate wasn’t weighed until you got to the check-out, so
Schoolchildren, Kirstenbosch Gardens (missing)
the trick was to choose about as much food as your voucher was worth. Choosing mostly salad, I found I had a lot of rands left over, so ran round again and quickly added a heavy slice of cheesecake. Literally, a well-balanced meal! By this time we had been joined by Jo and Kathy, so we shared a table with them.
Time was now really short, so I took the first suggestion I heard, which was from Ute, to go with her to look at the conservatory, built around a huge baobab tree. And then, it was time to meet up to depart.
Fortunately, not everyone was on time, so I did manage to look round the gift store, which had some lovely pieces of African art on sale. As we climbed into our bus we heard that this evening’s excursion with the scientists, to Table Mountain, had had to be cancelled because of weather conditions, so actually we weren’t late for anything at all.
At 4:00pm Jim arrived from the afternoon meeting with the same news. But, he had arranged with David and Lesley that we would all do something together instead. I now had a book of Cape Town’s Top Ten Attractions, so brought this to the discussion, but we were amongst fitness fanatics, who had been delighted to find the hotel supplied a map of a `jogging route’ starting and ending at the front door. So, I changed into my walking shoes and set out with Jim, following David and Lesley striding along ahead, and Chris and Sue Ellen, deep in political conversation, almost keeping up behind them.
The first part of the walk was uphill and along a busy road at what was now rush hour, so it was less than pleasant, but soon we turned right into a more residential area. It was fascinating to observe the various security measures around these very expensive-looking homes. Some had openly electric fences, some had barbed wire. Some had barbed wire cunningly disguised as ivy, with the addition of fake leaves to the coils. Some had threatening spikes along the tops of their fences. Some had baroquely ornate decorative fences, whose design nevertheless always seemed to incorporate intimidating spikes where spikes mattered. Jim and I got into observation and photography, and were soon way behind our more energetic companions. At first they would wait for us at corners, but soon their political views – upon which, apparently, they all agreed - got more and more absorbing, and I think they forgot about us, until a moment of choice. At one corner we had the choice to cut back to the hotel after two kilometers, or press on for the complete five kilometer circuit. No-one else apparently even hesitated – so I pressed on, too, once again with Jim gallantly walking behind with me at my pace. It was all quite flat now, and even downhill, so I could have walked for ever at my own speed, but I will never be a runner.
My reward for keeping on came very quickly – in the grounds of the Montebello art or garden studio, a magnificent angel had been carved, actually out of a tree trunk still growing in the earth. And, our companions never even noticed it!
I admit I was relieved to rest back at the hotel, and to have a short time to freshen up before meeting again at seven for dinner. We were shown upstairs in The Square Room to a very nice table, and enjoyed a pleasant meal together. Jim and Lesley each had to work on their presentations for tomorrow, with Jim being urged to add one safari slide `by mistake’ to his Powerpoint, to stir up a little envy, so we retired at 9:30.
Tuesday 14 October
I went down to breakfast with Jim, though the companions weren’t due to meet until 8:45. Our tour today more or less followed the tour that Jo and I had taken on Sunday with our menfolk, and I will not describe everything again. Pam did not come with us today, as she’d also done the trip before, but we were joined by a truant Korean scientist, and another man accompanied the two ladies from Albuquerque. We set off on a more inland route, then crossed to the western coast.
As we drove through the Table Mountain National Park we saw some eland, and I photographed a bontebok on the horizon. We heard more about the fynbos vegetation, and how it needs fire to renew occasionally from seed.
At the funicular, I traveled once again on the little railway, but Jo decided to have the new experience of walking up the slope, which she did with Kathy.
In the gift store I was amazed to find an egg cup decorated with African wildlife! It’s the only one I saw in Africa, and I brought it home for my collection.
At the Most Southwesterly Point of the African Continent we were all photographed again, and listened again to the discussion on the meeting point of the two oceans.
Alpha Male Baboon (missing)
On the return trip we came upon a tourist out of his car photographing a group of baboons, which included a huge male, and some small babies. Our guide and our driver, realizing his danger, called to him to get back in his car, and soon the large male rose from his `display’ position and approached the man. As the man ran for his car, we could see he had children in there, eating snacks, and his windows were open. We all held our breaths, but he seemed oblivious, and went on filming the scene through his windshield. The male baboon withdrew after a snarl, but the babies then leapt onto the car, sliding up and down it, and pulling at the mirrors and wipers. We watched for a while.
Baboon Babies (missing)
We took the return route via Simons Town, and had lunch at the very same restaurant where we had lunched on Sunday, but today we were allocated to an area at the rear. I chose a seat overlooking the shore, and had the added interest of seeing a submarine move out of the harbour and make for the ocean, but I was hemmed in by the gentlemen I didn’t know, so not able to join in the companions’ observations, which I always enjoy over lunches.
After lunch we walked down to Boulders Beach to see the penguins. They were entertaining, but actually, there were not nearly as many of them as there had been on Sunday. The ones who are not losing feathers are apparently out at this time of day.
Back at the bus a wonderful group of musicians were performing in the parking lot. Sue Ellen was completely caught up in their music. `Forgive me,’ she said, as she climbed in last. `I’m a musician.’
We returned home via Long Beach and Fish Hoek, making a brief stop at Rhodes Cottage, once again spotting a few whales.
This evening’s entertainment was to be a braal (barbeque) around the pool at the hotel, starting at 6:30. We first met Chris, Lesley, David and Sue Ellen, and chose a table underneath a heater. We were joined by Don, who confessed he had mentioned me and my works in his introduction to Jim’s presentation. Some day someone from this group will be incited to throw rocks at me over something I say in these reports. So, I figure I may as well stir up a little controversy anyway, and I mention I don’t like the change of status from `Companions’ to `Non-Delegates’ and I put it out there that I am looking for suggestions for a more appropriate title, one that befits the importance of our role.
As I have said before, I think the universe created the ARA in order to have the wives/spouses/companions/non-delegates get together and create World Peace. No one wants to go to war with a country they have friends in. So, the ARA is allowed to play with bombs and bullets, shields and shelters, as long as each member is accompanied by a responsible adult whose activities will eventually render these devices unnecessary.
Pauline and Jim at the Braal (missing)
This viewpoint has not yet won the popular vote, but they are learning to humour me, so a few people promise to consider my suggestion if I come up with one. Don assures me his teasing is a mark of favour - `Hey, I just don’t talk to people I don’t like.’
As we were next joined by Brian, then Larry and Jo, and Nils and Denise, we ran out of table room, so moved to the sofas surrounding a low table, taking our heater with us. There we dined on ostrich, lamb, fish, and chicken, with a little moving around, of necessity, before we could attempt an equal variety of desserts.
Wednesday 15 October
Today is the day of the excursion for all, delegates and non-delegates, and the good news is quickly passed around at breakfast that today Table Mountain is open, so we will call in there on our way to the Wine Country.
First the delegates have a morning visit to the university, and while the rest of us were at leisure Jo and Peggy invited me to walk over to the Cavendish Mall with them. This is an upmarket shopping experience only about five minutes from our hotel, and Peggy has got to know it quite well by replacing much of her lost baggage here. This morning our mission is to choose and buy gifts for our hosts, to be presented at the banquet tomorrow. This was a pleasant task, and we also had time to look around for other necessities. I found an ethnic African store called Bushwillow, where many of my souvenir needs were taken care of. I bought a tablecloth, a matching necklace and earrings, and six beadwork angels for our Christmas tree.
When we got back at about 12:15 we found all plans had been moved to an earlier time, to accommodate the Table Mountain visit, and the buses were now due to leave at one o’clock. This looked like being the `third time lucky’ attempt to visit the mountain, as we could see the cable cars were moving as we approached. We all piled out of the buses in great excitement – only to be greeted with the announcement that the darn cableway had just closed, due to high winds! Groans of dismay!!
Gwen was particularly disappointed – she’d been trying for days now to fit in this promised excursion, and this was really the last chance. However, she decided now that the buses could take us on to Signal Hill – also a good viewpoint – as a kind of consolation prize.
Peggy and Don, Signal Hill (missing)
Pauline and Jim, Signal Hill (missing)
Signal Hill was a very beautiful spot, and we milled around, taking pictures of the views and each other. Don crept up to take a picture of me from behind, against the panorama. Sue Ellen, not familiar with our history, asked him `Why?’ `It’s a long story,’ he replied.
As we were getting ready to set off again for the winetasting, news reached Gwen on her cell phone that the Table Mountain cableway had just opened up again. `I’m coming back,’ she told them, `and I want my whole party on there right away – no waiting.’ Apparently she got this agreement. The buses took us back there as fast as possible, and within minutes we were spiralling, a small car load at a time, up to the mountaintop. We had strict instructions that we were to spend only half an hour at the top – then we MUST get going on the next stage of our journey.
Well, of course, with loading and re-loading the cable cars, some people’s half hour happened earlier than others. We all raced around the top, took pictures, and lined up to take the next car down as soon as we had finished.
On Table Mountain (missing)
The two buses were waiting for us. Now, as it turned out, some people had changed buses or seats at different stops, so it wasn’t immediately of concern to anyone if any particular person was not in the same seat. Don and Peggy Berry had been on our bus, and we could see they weren’t there now, but Nils on one bus and Gwen on the other had apparently counted heads, and between them agreed that everyone was back, so the buses left for the long journey out towards Stellenbosch …
At this point my account must split into two – as did our party.
Don and Peggy, David and Sue Ellen, came down late from Table Mountain, to find that the buses had left without them. With considerable resourcefulness, they went to the information center, called the travel company for which Gwen worked, and found out her cell phone number. They then called her, on the bus, and asked what they could do to get back to the group. By this time the buses were well out of town, and needed to keep going, as we were already late for the planned winetasting and dinner. It was agreed that the Table Mountain Four should get a taxi to bring them to an agreed spot somewhere along our route, and after the buses had deposited the main party one would return to that spot to pick up the latecomers.
There were several sources of anxiety in following this plan, which it seems were thought through only by Don, leaving the others untroubled in their ignorance. Firstly, we had been told here and in other places that we should use only recommended taxi companies, and the only sources of such a recommendation in the present situation were as unknown as the taxi company itself. Secondly, someone who knew the route we were taking had to describe a meeting spot to the driver, and the driver had to understand exactly where it was. Thirdly, there seemed no Plan B if the rendezvous did not work for any reason. Don’s apprehensions increased when the taxi arrived, and had two strong men in it, one of whom was supposedly being given a ride to some place by his friend the driver. At this point Don looked over the Bogdanoffs and, as he remarked afterwards, `I love them dearly, but I realized they’d be no good in a fight.’ Well, he took the best precautions he could, had Gwen talk to the taxi driver, made sure the meeting place was well understood by both – and was very relieved when the driver’s friend left the taxi as planned.
Steinberg Winery (missing)
Meantime, after a very long drive through countryside eventually lined with vineyards, at about five o’clock, well overdue, the main party arrived at the Steinberg Winery. A spacious lawn was dotted with upturned barrels, each covered with a tablecloth, and bearing two different varieties of wine, plus cheese, olives and bread. Each barrel was manned by informative servers, who described each wine to us as we sampled them. We were given a glass each, and told to move around, sampling as many wines as we cared to try.
It was at this point that the news spread that four of our number had been left behind, and we all felt a little guilty that we had said nothing earlier. But, as Larry said, we only knew they weren’t sitting where they had started out, and so many people had moved … we had all trusted the head count. Well, we didn’t feel so guilty that we couldn’t enjoy the winetasting, and we began to make the rounds, giving serious consideration to the question of which wine we liked best. My personal favourite was the Pinotage. And we were delighted to find that one of the cheeses was a variety of Wensleydale.
Return of the Table Mountain Four (missing)
Eventually the Table Mountain Four arrived, to much joking and teasing, which was but one way of showing relief that they were back amongst us. Another `butt’ of our jokes (sorry!) was a large nude statue silhouetted against the increasingly beautiful sunset, and I managed to persuade Chris to add his silhouette to hers with his hand pinching her bottom. (Probably wouldn’t have worked if we hadn’t each sampled a number of wines by then.)
Mama Cass (missing)
Yes, butt ...(missing)
As the sun finally sank we were invited inside the restaurant, where ethnic delights awaited us. A wonderful lady called Cass Abrahams is in charge of the food in this restaurant, of which her husband is the proprietor, and she came out to explain to us what we would be eating. She described `soul food’, which is the kind of food prepared by the local native families. It would be served in the traditional way, in huge bowls from which we would help ourselves. In her culture, it was considered rude of the host to put the guest’s food on their plate, and rude of the guest to leave any food uneaten. She described the several courses of the meal, beginning with samosas, proceeding through pickled fish, followed by bobotie, a traditional African dish containing meat and fruit. This would be followed by huge bowls of sweet potato, lamb, and chicken. In spite of the warning about the vast amounts, it was difficult to pace ourselves through this amazing feast, and leave some room for dessert.
Jim and I found ourselves on a table dominated by Germans, who turned out to be very friendly, especially Ute whom I had met on the companion tours. I now met her husband, Matthius. Ed was also on our table. I happened to sit opposite a portrait on the wall, of an old lady with a beautiful face. When Mama Cass came out again to receive our thanks and congratulations on the wonderful meal, I asked her about it. She told me the lady is her husband’s great-aunt, now in her nineties. Ute and I moved together for dessert, and she talked to me about the education of her two young children.
Dancing Waitresses (missing)
At the very end of the meal we had another wonderful surprise. As African music began to play, our waitresses began to dance. They were terrific! We stood at first transfixed by their movements, their rhythm, their infectious enjoyment. Gradually some of the younger scientists joined in, mixing the African steps the ladies taught them, and adding in some western dance movements that the ladies then imitated, convulsed with laughter. They ended up in a long conga line that pulled in even more of us. It was a very happy ending to a wonderful day – or would have been, had not we heard on our return to our hotel that the DOW is down 700 points today!
Thursday 16 October
The Companions’ last tour was to be a shopping excursion, with a different guide, Christian. We were, alas, minus Peggy, who wasn’t feeling too well and wanted to rest and recover.
Our first call was to the Diamond Works. We were ushered in and greeted with champagne. Their prices, I thought, seemed commensurate with champagne. The Albuquerque ladies were not put off by this, and did a little shopping. The rest of us resisted temptation, but enjoyed looking around at the exotic wares.
We moved on to Jewel Africa, more like the Jewelry Exchange in California, where prices seemed to me to be more reasonable. A friendly guide offered us more champagne! Then she took us along a production line where grades, colours, facets were explained to us.
I am not a fanatical shopper on these foreign trips, but I had got into a weird mood about money with all the ups and downs of the DOW these past few weeks. I was losing money anyway – why not spend some and have something to show for it? (Rather a dangerous rationalization when walking round a jewelry outlet, I know). Anyway, I had said to myself, as we were let loose to browse around the store, if there is something here that really calls to me, I’ll allow myself to spend $500.
I liked one pair of earrings. I liked several items in tanzanite, a beautiful blue stone found in Tanzania. Then I came upon a display cabinet with items in black-and-white diamonds. And there was MY ring, a beautiful piece with two white diamonds set each side of a central black stone. It cost roughly the equivalent of $850, a little over the limit I had allowed myself. But I found myself beguiled by the symbolism – the juxtaposition of black and white, and the pride Cledwyn, our first driver, had shown in his country’s progress in black and white citizens working together. What a beautiful souvenir of my visit this would make … Reader, I bought it!
The sales clerk had assured me our hotel, and the gala dinner there tonight, were known to them, and she promised to have the re-sized ring delivered there in time for me to wear it.
Sue Ellen and Pamela, V & A Wharf (missing)
That was enough shopping excitement for one day, really, but on we went to the Victoria and Alfred Wharf, a famous shopping area bounded by hotels, restaurants, a huge mall, a separate `Red Shed’ of African craft items, and, of course, the blue waters of the marina.
Our guide had despaired of ever getting us out of Jewel Africa, and now he said we must tell him how long we would spend here, then he would meet us at OUR time. We all agreed to meet at three o’clock.
Those who had not already spent their allowances set off at a brisk trot, but as a recovering shopaholic I ambled along slowly with Pamela and Sue Ellen. Sue Ellen has now got herself a bit of a reputation for getting left behind at places, so Pamela had appointed herself as caretaker, promising no harm would come to her, and she would be back at the appointed time. We three strolled through the mall and out into the bright sunlight of the marina. We admired the line of statues of prizewinners at Nobel Square, which included a very young Nelson Mandela, and we sat out in front of a restaurant, Oyo, within sight of this square, to eat lunch.
Nelson Mandela Statue (missing)
A little further along the quay was the Red Shed craft barn, with hundreds of vendors selling ethnic souvenirs. I found some small wooden angels, but searched in vain for some embroidered placemats I’d admired on earlier expeditions.
Our tour had included a voucher for 10 rand, which we’d forgotten about until almost the last minute. Sue Ellen declared she would spend hers in the huge pharmacy, Pick and Pay, and Pamela and I helped her find various items to add up to almost exactly 10 rand, since we’d been told we couldn’t get change. A very patient assistant helped her try to weigh out nuts to within a fraction, then threw in a few with his compliments, rather than spend any more time on the calculation.
After standing in line, we arrived back exactly at the agreed time, but not everyone was there yet. Since Pamela and I hadn’t spent our vouchers, we told Sue Ellen to wait there with the gathering group, while we just popped into the nearest store. I quickly bought two yellowwood bookmarks for Jim, Pamela bought some small item, and we were back in seconds. But where was Sue Ellen? `Oh,’ said someone, `yes, she was here, but she’s gone back to Pick and Pay. She said she had some apple juice she hadn’t paid for.’
Since Pamela and I had painstakingly assisted her every calculation, we knew this wasn’t the case – and now everyone was ready … I held Pamela’s packages while she ran back and scooped up a protesting Sue Ellen – though not before she’d returned the apple juice to the disbelieving cashier - and then our group was complete.
We met Peggy as we entered the hotel lobby, fortunately feeling better now. Unfortunately, I mentioned something about `confession’, and was overheard by Larry. Well, I did confess my purchase to Jim when I got up to our room. He only smiled at my impulse buy, and said he was eager to see it. So was I. But as time went on, and we were ready for the banquet, it still hadn’t been delivered.
Jo and Pauline at the Banquet (missing)
Drinks were served downstairs at seven, and I had to make my entrance without my new jewelry. We took several photographs of ourselves and our friends. Brian kindly gave me the last pen he had brought with him, with his new company name on it. The ladies were asking, `Where’s the ring?’ I said I hoped it wasn’t even now being smuggled across the Zambian border.
Pauline and Peggy at the Banquet (missing)
`A black diamond,’ said Larry, grinning. `Now, isn’t that the same as … coal ..?’
We sat at a table with Brian, Chris and Lesley, David and Sue Ellen, and another gentleman at the end whom I did not know. Musicians wandered from table to table, and dinner began to be served. Finally, the ring arrived, and was actually delivered to my table in a little box. There was a cheer as at last I could show it off. I even took it across to show Pamela (who’d been there when I bought it), Jo and Peggy, all of whom humoured my excitement. Jim said he liked it, so all was well.
Dinner was extraordinary. Courses were each small, and pretty. Two savoury courses were interspersed by a palate freshener, served in a spoon! The main course was springbok. There were several wines, and we were told to drink one white wine carefully, as there was a gift at the bottom of the glass. Each glass contained one tiny, shiny piece of crystal – and, for one lucky person, that crystal would turn out to be a diamond! Experts from Jewel Africa were on hand (which explained their knowing all about the banquet) to test each person’s gift. The tester who came to our table requested a `real diamond’ to demonstrate, so I offered my new ones. Fortunately, his test kit said they were genuine! Unfortunately, none of the crystals at our table turned out to be valuable. We expected at least a shriek when the one true diamond was found, but it was at a very undemonstrative table, who seemed to take it all in their stride.
Dessert came in three pieces, each delicious, and then the lovely meal was over. Awards were announced, and awarded to ARA dignitaries and other eminent scientists. Gifts were presented to our hosts and hostesses. A special award was given to Mike and Kathy Nagy. After goodbyes, we went up to our room and packed.
Friday 17 October
The Tortoise (missing)
More goodbyes were said over breakfast, before we all went our separate ways – Chris and Lesley, and then Don, dropped by our table. Don had even come up with a suggestion for the non-delegates - `Privileged Guests.’ Not bad – very gracious - but still gives the impression we depend on the scientists for our purpose. I must work on this some more.
While Jim went in to the last meetings, I wandered in the hotel garden, and at last managed to photograph the tortoise! Our plane was not due to leave until late afternoon, so we spent t