The Trip from Hail, Smugness and Life with Kermit

Last week I reported on that great feeling of satisfaction and peace that comes from living in a beautiful place with the work going well. Sometimes smugness is rewarded with a harsh dose of reality coupled with its cousin humility.

Our weekend started well enough, with Mr. Zulu waiting at the hospital gate at 6am cleaning the tires on his ancient and decrepit white van. The sliding door has a rope to keep it from sliding down the mountain when somewhat gives it too much push. The rear window sticker “Shemba is the way” identifies the taxi from all other taxis. Mr. Zulu never collects money until we are almost in town, just in case we break down and he has to find another driver. Mr. Zulu pointed us to the two front two seats which are preferred by many but carry the heavy responsibility of collecting the fares and giving change for the 16 other passengers. As we took off up the rock road, the rain started and Mr. Zulu turned on the wipers, which slowly swished a few turns and died. He then played with the switch but the wipers were done for the day and he drove the 80 km in pouring rain as I wiped the windshield to clean off the defrost. Vryheid has never been a more welcome site!

Our return from Vryheid today was not so easy. Due to lack of control over their lives and transport difficulties, the poor in this world must make innumerable daily decision and continually plan ahead in order to get where they need to go, to have enough money to achieve the transport desired, and to have a back up plan when the major mode of transportation fails. Today we did not plan well and did not have a back up plan when the desired transport failed.

After church this morning, we talked about skipping lunch in town and returning immediately to Vryheid by the paved road taxi, which lets us off 4 km from the hospital. Heavy rains were forecast for the entire weekend and the streets were flooded on Sat. night, forcing us to walk down the middle of the street for dinner and ford the flooded street. However at noontime there was a patch of blue in the skies and we looked forward to prawn curry and kingklip fish at one of the few restaurants open on Sunday afternoon. After a pleasant lunch in a deserted restaurant we walked back to the B and B to get our baggage and headed the one mile to the taxi stand. The sky suddenly turned very dark and the wind picked up. The Zulus on the street started running which we have never seen before as normally the Zulus have a slow dignified gait. As we neared the taxi stand, we noted taxis leaving the rank with only one passenger or only a driver, which is very unusual. A few hundred yards before reaching our taxi, the rain started. We started running for the taxi but ended up drenched by the time we got in and greeted the single passenger. The rain started coming down in sheets and within a few minutes hail the size of ping pong balls was bouncing off the van and covering the ground with white balls looking like snow. The noisy clanging balls banged against the windshield and a small crack appeared; then another and another crack creating a pattern of lace against the glass. The taxi driver outlined the cracked patterns with his hand and sighed. Brendon and I were relieved to be out of the storm, even though we were mad at ourselves for not exercising our better judgment and leaving earlier. After a short while the hail subsided and the rain retreated from its violent aggression. A young mother with baby in tow got in the taxi and asked if we had an umbrella. I did not but offered her my rain jacket which she put on her head and took off leaving the baby in the taxi. The 8 month old baby began looking around for its mother and fretting, so I started singing some of my old baby standbys, which probably caused more distress. Soon the mother returned with my jacket and a big smile. The taxi began filling with the usual stream of Sunday travelers off to visit relatives or return to work. Two more family groups got on with two more infants. At last the taxi drive charged up the engine and took off with a windshield looking like a giant spider web. Rain banged on the van as it charged through the flooded roads to home. Up the mountain in the pouring rain, 13 adults and 3 infants, bags, packages, packs and goodwill on the part of all. As the infants grew restless, the moms pulled out snacks including potato chips, hot dogs and French fries, which bother my mother instincts but were effective in quieting the babies.
We drove up the mountain and hit the famous mist coupled with rain and potholes in the road. Landmarks were hidden in the mist and rain so a new worry developed that we would miss our stop. The sign appeared out of nowhere and the driver of the van stopped. What a relief to be out of that van. We headed down the dirt road towards home and after a short walk were picked up by the director of the hospital in his Sunday best driving his Mercedes Benz. 500 yards from the hospital a tree had fallen across the road, blocking entrance. Brendon and I hopped out and hurried through the rain to our home where the wind was blowing like a hurricane but we were at last safe and dry. After I reach home I realized that our lunch had caused another casualty; a tooth had chipped, probably from the candy mints that come with the bill. Looks like another adventure dealing with South African dentists so stay tuned.
This week the Bond’s had a third roommate, Kermit the Toad. Tuesday night brought heavy rains and heavy visitors to the one room flat off the business office; lost keys, maintenance worker needing a flash light (torch) and the director at 930pm looking for a lost file on his laptop. As we finally tottled off to bed, Brendon noticed a toad sitting behind the door of our sleeping area which had probably entered our home during one of the evening visits. We were both too tired to deal with the toad so turned out the light. Late that night I was awakend by a snoring GRRRRIPPP, GRRRIPP, GRRIPP!! And on and on. Why didn’t we deal with the toad earlier? The next morning the toad had disappeared and we hoped he had found his way out. Late the second and third night Brendon woke up to the snoring sound of the toad and I found his excreta in the bathroom. By this time Brendon had found the toad in wildlife book and at least our new roommate had a name, Guttural Toad. Kermit was payback for writing blogs about the great sleep we are having during our Peace Corps tenure. Our colleagues provided toad removal guidance and sophomorically warned us not to make the snakes angry when we next try snake removal. We winced at the idea of another night with Kermit’s howling. Thursday night Brendon took matters into his own hand and as soon as the retinue began went searching for the darned toad and found him in the shower. Brendon grabbed a rag and swept up Kermit and threw him out into the stormy night.