Sorry for the long delay in blogging but the Bond’s took advantage of the long Easter weekend to explore the Klein Karoo, South Africa’s version of Route 66, and the garden route of the Cape.
Just before we left for the Cape, Mountain High Hospital coordinated an AIDS education day for the adjoining high school. Planning this event was an act of faith on everyone’s part as the high school is run by the government school district and the hospital is directed by a private religious NGO. However, since our arrival we have heard that there was a need for the high school students to be presented with accurate information about HIV, testing, prevention, STD’s and health education in general. Unfortunately, the high school students go home in Nov. for their summer break and miss the AIDS Awareness event held each Dec. Our job as Peace Corps volunteers was to act as the go-between between the school officials and the nursing staff to make the event happen. Would the nurses be available to give the pitch and answer questions from the students? Would the school officials and teachers support the event and create time for the messages? Would the students be interested in the information and come forward with their issues and questions? The Answer is Yes Yes Yes to all concerns. In spite of the rain and some logistic issues (the girl’s dining room was also hosting a teachers training conference) the nurses showed up and had a powerful punch. They told the students that there generation could be doomed by 2020 if the students did not take steps to stay AIDS free for life. The nurses gave out factual information about prevention, testing and positive living, if one tests positive and the availability of ARVs. The students were given cards for anonymous health questions and to our surprise, most of the 120 learners submitted questions, which took most of the afternoon to answer. Surprisingly, none were prank questions. The students are intimately affected by the AIDS epidemic as many have had a close relative die. The reality is as close as the tombstone dealer in the shopping malls in town and the billboards proclaiming that “Prevention is Better than (NO) Cure.”
With this great experience in mind, we headed off for the Cape to celebrate Easter, along with most of South Africans who travel to Durban or the Cape for the holiday. Our first destination was Knysna (pronounced Nice na), a beautiful spot on the Indian Ocean that reminded me of Tiburon in the SF Bay Area. It even has a suburb of Belvedere, with a beautiful old stone church, gardens and graveyard. Knysna has a lagoon and headlands available for hiking and viewing the wild surf below. Further down the road we ran into Tsitikamma National Park with even more rugged coast, indigenous forests and surf, looking like Big Sur. The area is loaded with hiking trails to the view points above and first world comforts like movie theatres, interesting shopping, and restaurants. After a few days of “Marin County” South African Style we were ready for more adventure so we headed out to the Klein Karoo, the high desert of South Africa. The mountain pass from coast to the high desert did not disappoint as it round the craggy cliffs with view of the sea and the deep valleys and gorges of the mountains surrounding the coast. One has to give the voortrekkers credit for finding these passes and pushing their own personal limits to reach the new lands beyond the coast. Capetown is surrounded by craggy cliffs in all directions which appear insurmountable. Wagons had to be dismantled and contents hand carried over the steep cliffs to reach the grazing lands on the other side. When the highways were finally built over the mountains, the British engineers built the passes for elegance and great viewing so they are a true pleasure to drive.
After climbing the steep pass up from George through the four pass area and gawking at the fantastic views we arrived in the Klein Karoo, the small high desert area east of Cape Town. This area is famous for ostrich farms, dry desert air and plenty of open space. Oudtshoorn, the biggest town, was having an Arts festival which sounded great to Peace Corps folks from the deep bush but alas, most of the events were in Afrikaans, a language we have not been able to learn. This festival goes on for 10 days with a huge attendance for the drama, popular music, dance and fine arts. After enjoying some Afrikaans light rock we headed out on Route 62, feeling like our grandparents when they went west on Route 66. Sorry, no teepee motels but plenty of quaint small towns and desert landscape with gorgeous red rock formations, scrub, and magnificent mountains on all sides. Truly a wonderful drive and another insight into the amazing sights of South Africa.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Poverty and Pension Day
The reality that this is the final stretch of our Peace Corps service hit home this week as we hurried up to complete projects and leave mechanisms in place for sustainability of the occupational therapy program, staff computer training, and new business processes. The money from the Peace Corps grant to purchase beads, sewing materials, and shoemaking supplies for AIDS patient’s handwork is almost depleted. Monday was Pension Day at the small tuck shop in the forest so I hauled my fleece hats, scarves, two chairs and the volunteer coordinator to the site. (A prior attempt to sell hats to the retirees and disabled was a dismal failure with a huge rainstorm, obnoxious drunks and shoplifters gleefully absconding with the hats.) This time the weather was not ideal for selling soft fleece as it was very sunny and warm, but 11 customers came forward to buy the children’s models. (No thefts due to the vigilance of the volunteer helper).
Pension Day is an amazing spectacle in a rural area where one usually sees only small groups of people in their kraals or walking down the road. The grannies and welfare beneficiaries gather once a month under a tree or community center to receive their small pensions in cash. The money is delivered in two armored trucks followed by the clerks that make the distributions. The money train has a specific route to follow for the day, but the exact time of distribution is unknown. Thus the crowd gathers early in the day and waits for the magical money entourage to arrive. The beneficiaries attract a hoard of hawkers with live chickens, cold drinks, mangoes, plums, sheaves of snuff, muti (traditional medicine), brooms, linens, cheap watches, and fleece hats. We set up our chairs in the shade in front of the tuck shop but were asked to move to the side of the shop by the owner. I spotted an open spot by the water tank which was a great location on the sunny day as the crowd opened the spigot for a drink of water and were accosted by a middle aged lady selling hats for AIDS patients, children’s sizes only 5 rand (75 cents). My major competition was the man across the road with a crate full of live white chickens which were the hit of pension day. He lifted the wiggling chickens from the crate into a small chicken coop. The customer selects his/her favorite from the coop and is handed the squawking beast to take home. The method is to take a piece or rope or plastic bag and tie the feet together, but alas many of the women are seen diving into the bushes to chase a chicken who has escaped from the stew pot. The mothers mill among the vendors with their babies rigged to their backs with a bath towel. Seldom does one hear a baby cry in South Africa; however keeping the baby in place is a constant struggle with mother juggling their load and tightening the towel in front. Mothers getting in the back of a crowded taxi have an especially difficult challenge to keep the baby from being dropped or crushed but they manage the difficult dance with grace and rhythm.
When the pension vehicle train arrives the gogos, mothers and disabled form a queue and the money is quickly distributed. The train hurriedly takes off for the next remote rural location. The women are reluctant to go home as they catch up on the gossip and see old friends. They sit on the ground in circles and pass around a quart of Castle beer or coca cola and are entertained by the roving hawkers. Grandsons arrive to hit up the gogos for cash and a treat. Direct deposit of social security checks certainly can’t compare with this community event.
The reality of poverty is evident even on pension day. The mothers cannot afford the 5 rand for a hat for their new baby but look longingly at the colorful soft hats with bears, antelopes and Zulu patterns. Our NGO headquarters made a small order for their uniform shop in Joburg; perhaps sales will be better in the city, especially when the weather turns cold. The sad reality is that it takes about R2000 ($250) a month to sustain the patient handcrafts program, R1600 for materials and R400 for the volunteer coordinator. Over 400 patients have participated in the program and have learned many new skills as well as having some activity each day. I worry that as soon as we leave in June the program will end- the worst fear of Peace Corps volunteers. However, it has been a great experience and many patients have benefitted. (not to mention a US matron who is now an accomplished Zulu beader). Prior to our arrival, patients were bored during their long 3 month stays in the hospital. Their families are distant. On Friday I sat next to a woman on the taxi who was traveling to see her bedridden sister at the Hospital. It took all morning and 4 taxi rides to get to the hospital. After a one hour visit she reversed the journey as there is nowhere for families to stay at Mountain High.
Rural poverty is evident even among the best and brightest in rural Zululand. Our Zulu teacher is now in 12th grade but cannot afford to board at the high school due to his grandmother having a stroke just before school started in Jan. He is the class president and charismatic student leader. But at 17 years, he stays in a hut near the high school, hauls his water for drinking, cooking and washing. He must obtain all of his food from town and cook it on a small gas flame. He has no electricity so does his homework by candlelight. On Sunday he comes to our flat to borrow an iron to beautifully press the yellow dress shirts required for high school in South Africa. He is paid a small amount to teach Zulu to the Americans (R40 per week) but that does not cover taxi fare to town to buy food or visit his family. He never complains and is upbeat about going to university next year. He is a stellar student and will not give up until every assignment is done well and he understands the concepts. Friday night he came to our flat as he had no food and wanted 2 cups of mealy meal to make his supper. He was surprised and disappointed to learn that the Americans had no mealy meal (corn meal, the basic staple of SA) in their cupboard-only Jungle oats, which were offered along with sausage, spinach and a peach. What sacrifice for a young man to endure in order to obtain the excellent education at the high school. Stories of struggling students in American cannot compare with the grinding poverty we have seen.
Pension Day is an amazing spectacle in a rural area where one usually sees only small groups of people in their kraals or walking down the road. The grannies and welfare beneficiaries gather once a month under a tree or community center to receive their small pensions in cash. The money is delivered in two armored trucks followed by the clerks that make the distributions. The money train has a specific route to follow for the day, but the exact time of distribution is unknown. Thus the crowd gathers early in the day and waits for the magical money entourage to arrive. The beneficiaries attract a hoard of hawkers with live chickens, cold drinks, mangoes, plums, sheaves of snuff, muti (traditional medicine), brooms, linens, cheap watches, and fleece hats. We set up our chairs in the shade in front of the tuck shop but were asked to move to the side of the shop by the owner. I spotted an open spot by the water tank which was a great location on the sunny day as the crowd opened the spigot for a drink of water and were accosted by a middle aged lady selling hats for AIDS patients, children’s sizes only 5 rand (75 cents). My major competition was the man across the road with a crate full of live white chickens which were the hit of pension day. He lifted the wiggling chickens from the crate into a small chicken coop. The customer selects his/her favorite from the coop and is handed the squawking beast to take home. The method is to take a piece or rope or plastic bag and tie the feet together, but alas many of the women are seen diving into the bushes to chase a chicken who has escaped from the stew pot. The mothers mill among the vendors with their babies rigged to their backs with a bath towel. Seldom does one hear a baby cry in South Africa; however keeping the baby in place is a constant struggle with mother juggling their load and tightening the towel in front. Mothers getting in the back of a crowded taxi have an especially difficult challenge to keep the baby from being dropped or crushed but they manage the difficult dance with grace and rhythm.
When the pension vehicle train arrives the gogos, mothers and disabled form a queue and the money is quickly distributed. The train hurriedly takes off for the next remote rural location. The women are reluctant to go home as they catch up on the gossip and see old friends. They sit on the ground in circles and pass around a quart of Castle beer or coca cola and are entertained by the roving hawkers. Grandsons arrive to hit up the gogos for cash and a treat. Direct deposit of social security checks certainly can’t compare with this community event.
The reality of poverty is evident even on pension day. The mothers cannot afford the 5 rand for a hat for their new baby but look longingly at the colorful soft hats with bears, antelopes and Zulu patterns. Our NGO headquarters made a small order for their uniform shop in Joburg; perhaps sales will be better in the city, especially when the weather turns cold. The sad reality is that it takes about R2000 ($250) a month to sustain the patient handcrafts program, R1600 for materials and R400 for the volunteer coordinator. Over 400 patients have participated in the program and have learned many new skills as well as having some activity each day. I worry that as soon as we leave in June the program will end- the worst fear of Peace Corps volunteers. However, it has been a great experience and many patients have benefitted. (not to mention a US matron who is now an accomplished Zulu beader). Prior to our arrival, patients were bored during their long 3 month stays in the hospital. Their families are distant. On Friday I sat next to a woman on the taxi who was traveling to see her bedridden sister at the Hospital. It took all morning and 4 taxi rides to get to the hospital. After a one hour visit she reversed the journey as there is nowhere for families to stay at Mountain High.
Rural poverty is evident even among the best and brightest in rural Zululand. Our Zulu teacher is now in 12th grade but cannot afford to board at the high school due to his grandmother having a stroke just before school started in Jan. He is the class president and charismatic student leader. But at 17 years, he stays in a hut near the high school, hauls his water for drinking, cooking and washing. He must obtain all of his food from town and cook it on a small gas flame. He has no electricity so does his homework by candlelight. On Sunday he comes to our flat to borrow an iron to beautifully press the yellow dress shirts required for high school in South Africa. He is paid a small amount to teach Zulu to the Americans (R40 per week) but that does not cover taxi fare to town to buy food or visit his family. He never complains and is upbeat about going to university next year. He is a stellar student and will not give up until every assignment is done well and he understands the concepts. Friday night he came to our flat as he had no food and wanted 2 cups of mealy meal to make his supper. He was surprised and disappointed to learn that the Americans had no mealy meal (corn meal, the basic staple of SA) in their cupboard-only Jungle oats, which were offered along with sausage, spinach and a peach. What sacrifice for a young man to endure in order to obtain the excellent education at the high school. Stories of struggling students in American cannot compare with the grinding poverty we have seen.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Unexpected Weekend in Vryheid
After a great trip touring Zululand last week with our US pals, we decided to stay at Mountain High Hospital for the weekend and catch up on our reading. (our replacement ATM cards from the US have not arrived and the Peace Corps stipend of $250 does not stretch very far). Easter plans include a trip to the Cape so we will be traveling again in a few weeks and were content to stay at our site.
However, the water woes continued at Mountain High. No water poured out of the taps every morning this week. As good Peace Corps Volunteers must do, we practiced patience and flexibility, changing our water usage (showers, dish washing, filling pots and pans with water, hand washing) to a short period in the evenings when the students in the high school are in study hall and the demand is lessened. Friday night arrived and we celebrated by making pizza. Alas shortly after taking the pizza out of the oven the taps ran dry. We had forgotten that there is no study hall on Friday night. The dishes from the day had piled up in the sink and our pitchers were depleted. All night the faucets were as dry as the bones in Ezekiel.
We got up at 5am on Saturday morning and found the same dry conditions so we changed our plans, packed up a few things and hurried to the only taxi that goes directly to town each Monday through Saturday. To our surprise we were the first passengers to arrive at the cement bench that serves as the taxi stand. The morning had a touch of fall in the air and the sunrise was shrouded in a pink mist. The days are growing shorter with sunrise at 6am, contrasting with the early sunrise of 430am during the height of summer. Life as a poor person in South Africa is a series of “Hurry Up and Wait” as an inordinate amount of time is spent waiting for the taxi to fill, waiting in the long lines at the bank (all bills are paid by deposits into the creditors bank account), and the long lines at the discount grocery stores with names like Boxer, Score and Shoprite. If one has electricity or a cell phone, queues are required to purchase pay as you go coupons that seem to run out very fast. Life is spent catching up. Most rural people do not have spares of household items or stockpiles of food in the larder. When they run out of food, light bulbs, toilet paper, propane, or kerosene, it is an all day trip to town to buy the necessary item. Substitutions are made during tough times – phone books and magazines work as toilet paper.
Many of the Mountain High residents are almost self sufficient, cutting down trees in the forest for firewood for cooking, growing mealies (corn), raising cattle and goats. They walk around with their long heavy knives swinging from their hands, which was a little menacing to Peace Corps volunteers at first. The women also cut down trees and use a turban on their heads to balance the heavy hard wood trunks, which must be hauled down the steep paths to their homes. Water is transported in plastic carboys balanced on their heads. Much of the day is spent fetching water, wood and livestock. The children of the local community are disadvantaged compared to the boarding students as have to 2 hour hikes each way on rough trails to get to school and then must tend cattle, haul water and wood when they get home. The quality of life would dramatically improve if rural residents had easy access to water and electricity. A large part of the day is spent in basic maintenance, rather than school work or leisure.
The Saturday morning ride to town is always an upbeat experience as the scenery is gorgeous and we are delighted to return to the first world for a break from the stresses and discomforts of the Hospital. We check in at Rita’s Guest House at 730 am and are greeted as family. There is no equivalent to Rita’s in the US as it is a 29 room guest house that is also the residence of the owner. She is a lively woman who loves to tell stories about the strange habits of her guests. The facility is also used for meetings and weddings- functions as they are called here in SA. The staff complains about weddings where the guests are boisterous and also about the weddings where no one drinks and the party is a bore. Rita is also a travel agent and knows every inch of SA, a country she deeply loves. She knows all of her guests by name and their favorite room, which are all individually decorated in Rita’s flouncy style. The lounge and halls are covered with African art, needlepoint, carved animals, Dutch kitsch and more. We spend hours sitting out in the beautiful garden and pool area planted with familiar and unfamiliar flowers and trees. Birds are also her guests-we are awakened each morning by the screeching Hadeda Ibis’s looking for grubs in the grass. All this for R380 ($50) a night, including breakfast.
Happy Birthday to my sister Lillian, who has been a faithful correspondant each week since we arrived. You are loved and appreciated. Thanks for your support.
However, the water woes continued at Mountain High. No water poured out of the taps every morning this week. As good Peace Corps Volunteers must do, we practiced patience and flexibility, changing our water usage (showers, dish washing, filling pots and pans with water, hand washing) to a short period in the evenings when the students in the high school are in study hall and the demand is lessened. Friday night arrived and we celebrated by making pizza. Alas shortly after taking the pizza out of the oven the taps ran dry. We had forgotten that there is no study hall on Friday night. The dishes from the day had piled up in the sink and our pitchers were depleted. All night the faucets were as dry as the bones in Ezekiel.
We got up at 5am on Saturday morning and found the same dry conditions so we changed our plans, packed up a few things and hurried to the only taxi that goes directly to town each Monday through Saturday. To our surprise we were the first passengers to arrive at the cement bench that serves as the taxi stand. The morning had a touch of fall in the air and the sunrise was shrouded in a pink mist. The days are growing shorter with sunrise at 6am, contrasting with the early sunrise of 430am during the height of summer. Life as a poor person in South Africa is a series of “Hurry Up and Wait” as an inordinate amount of time is spent waiting for the taxi to fill, waiting in the long lines at the bank (all bills are paid by deposits into the creditors bank account), and the long lines at the discount grocery stores with names like Boxer, Score and Shoprite. If one has electricity or a cell phone, queues are required to purchase pay as you go coupons that seem to run out very fast. Life is spent catching up. Most rural people do not have spares of household items or stockpiles of food in the larder. When they run out of food, light bulbs, toilet paper, propane, or kerosene, it is an all day trip to town to buy the necessary item. Substitutions are made during tough times – phone books and magazines work as toilet paper.
Many of the Mountain High residents are almost self sufficient, cutting down trees in the forest for firewood for cooking, growing mealies (corn), raising cattle and goats. They walk around with their long heavy knives swinging from their hands, which was a little menacing to Peace Corps volunteers at first. The women also cut down trees and use a turban on their heads to balance the heavy hard wood trunks, which must be hauled down the steep paths to their homes. Water is transported in plastic carboys balanced on their heads. Much of the day is spent fetching water, wood and livestock. The children of the local community are disadvantaged compared to the boarding students as have to 2 hour hikes each way on rough trails to get to school and then must tend cattle, haul water and wood when they get home. The quality of life would dramatically improve if rural residents had easy access to water and electricity. A large part of the day is spent in basic maintenance, rather than school work or leisure.
The Saturday morning ride to town is always an upbeat experience as the scenery is gorgeous and we are delighted to return to the first world for a break from the stresses and discomforts of the Hospital. We check in at Rita’s Guest House at 730 am and are greeted as family. There is no equivalent to Rita’s in the US as it is a 29 room guest house that is also the residence of the owner. She is a lively woman who loves to tell stories about the strange habits of her guests. The facility is also used for meetings and weddings- functions as they are called here in SA. The staff complains about weddings where the guests are boisterous and also about the weddings where no one drinks and the party is a bore. Rita is also a travel agent and knows every inch of SA, a country she deeply loves. She knows all of her guests by name and their favorite room, which are all individually decorated in Rita’s flouncy style. The lounge and halls are covered with African art, needlepoint, carved animals, Dutch kitsch and more. We spend hours sitting out in the beautiful garden and pool area planted with familiar and unfamiliar flowers and trees. Birds are also her guests-we are awakened each morning by the screeching Hadeda Ibis’s looking for grubs in the grass. All this for R380 ($50) a night, including breakfast.
Happy Birthday to my sister Lillian, who has been a faithful correspondant each week since we arrived. You are loved and appreciated. Thanks for your support.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
So Cal Pals Visit
Today is Brendon’s 60th birthday. The entire week was a stupendous celebration as we toured Zululand with our friends, Melinda and Ron, from Palos Verdes, CA. Happy Birthday to a wonderful husband and friend! This is one birthday we won’t forget. Today we are on the Greyhound bus returning to our Mountain High Hospital home and musing over the events of the week.
To get to South Africa our friends had an 11 hour flight from LAX to Frankfurt and another 11 hour flight to Johannesburg. From Jo burg they drove 5 hours through the farm regions of South Africa (Mpumalanga) to Kwa Zulu Natal where they met us in front of the beautiful stone church in the center of our town Vryheid. What a treat to see a familiar face and hear American English. We were so excited to see them and hear the news from home. We headed out to the nearby game lodge, Mpofini, and immediately set out on foot to see the game; zebras, giraffes, wart hogs darting in and out with their tails up leading their babies, impalas, nyalas and more. We stayed in a bush lodge camp which consisted of two bedrooms, a kitchen in-between and an outdoor barbeque area which served as a lounge/dining area. The fire was started, the party food laid out and the conversation verve began. I looked up at the open gateway in the stake fence and was alarmed to see a 6 ft ostrich walking in to join us for dinner. At first glimpse I thought it was an elephant so was relieved that it was only big bird. However ostriches have a nasty reputation for biting and kicking so the four us looked at each other and tried to develop a strategy for ostrich removal. Ron used his best predator down stare; I headed for the broom. While Ron locked eyes with the huge avian, I started yelling in my best Zulu and swinging the broom. The ostrich hesitated as we sensed that perhaps this bush camp was his home territory. Melinda couldn’t stop laughing at this ridiculous scene with Susan swinging her broom in Zulu and Ron in his finest bravado form. Finally after shrieking at him for several minutes he backed away and went off into the night. Score one for the California folk!
That night the California visitors heard drums and thought it might be over for the last remaining visitors at the game park. Unfortunately, the lodge is being converted to a hunting camp. Thus we were the last overnight guests in the rugged, yet beautiful, surroundings. By morning the world seemed safe and we headed off for a game drive to see the animals living their lives in a natural setting where competition and death are part of the everyday scene as well as love, child rearing, dominance, and play. The park is in a lovely bowl with acres of grassland and acacias forming a backdrop for the game. We drove over the saddle of the mountain to visit the hippos lounging in their pond and the large herd of ostrich. The guide was asked about the interloper from the previous evening and he retorted that the ostriches were harmless. We felt a little foolish for our alarm the night before but one look at the massive feet on the bird was enough to scare us into our defensive tactics.
After the game drive we headed to Vryheid where we toured all of the Zulu craft stores and muti (traditional medicine) shops. Melinda had an encounter with a rough spot on the sidewalk. What a good sport about a nasty fall. The local Afrikaans dentist was around the corner. He checked out her teeth and jaw, did an x-ray and wished her well, refusing any payment for services. Another act of kindness in South Africa!
Our visitors were interested in visiting our Peace Corps site, Mountain High Hospital, the patient activities program and the excellent Zulu high school that shares our site. I met Melinda as a student in her Shakespearian Comedies and Tragedies class at El Camino College. She offered her services to teach the sonnets to the Matric (senior) students at the high school and was a big hit with these highly motivated students. The universal themes of shame and despair were quickly understood by the 80 seniors and they enjoyed hearing rhyming meter. They read a Zulu poem in unison and sang the SA National anthem which brought tears to the eyes of the Peace Corps volunteers who will be going home soon. A great day and a pleasure for all!
The rest of the week was spent touring KZN game parks and visiting St. Lucia, a fantastic vacation plan for anyone wanting to tour malaria free areas of South Africa. The highlight of the game spotting occurred when least expected. As we drove into Hluhluwe Game Park, (the oldest national park in SA and King Shaka’s hunting grounds) we spotted an animal with a white tail in the middle of the road ahead. We slowly caught up to the animal and couldn’t believe our eyes- a beautiful Leopard walking calmly down the middle of the paved road that leads to Hilltop Bush Camp. We followed the leopard for a kilometer until the rosettes finally darted into the bush. The leopard turned his head and looked back at us; were we lunch? Predators have a stateliness and focus of mission about them that is unmistakable. The face had a sweetness and tenderness to it, but the movement of the body spoke force and command.
After a week of great conversation and fun, it is time to get back to work. Thanks, Ron and Melinda for a great adventure!
To get to South Africa our friends had an 11 hour flight from LAX to Frankfurt and another 11 hour flight to Johannesburg. From Jo burg they drove 5 hours through the farm regions of South Africa (Mpumalanga) to Kwa Zulu Natal where they met us in front of the beautiful stone church in the center of our town Vryheid. What a treat to see a familiar face and hear American English. We were so excited to see them and hear the news from home. We headed out to the nearby game lodge, Mpofini, and immediately set out on foot to see the game; zebras, giraffes, wart hogs darting in and out with their tails up leading their babies, impalas, nyalas and more. We stayed in a bush lodge camp which consisted of two bedrooms, a kitchen in-between and an outdoor barbeque area which served as a lounge/dining area. The fire was started, the party food laid out and the conversation verve began. I looked up at the open gateway in the stake fence and was alarmed to see a 6 ft ostrich walking in to join us for dinner. At first glimpse I thought it was an elephant so was relieved that it was only big bird. However ostriches have a nasty reputation for biting and kicking so the four us looked at each other and tried to develop a strategy for ostrich removal. Ron used his best predator down stare; I headed for the broom. While Ron locked eyes with the huge avian, I started yelling in my best Zulu and swinging the broom. The ostrich hesitated as we sensed that perhaps this bush camp was his home territory. Melinda couldn’t stop laughing at this ridiculous scene with Susan swinging her broom in Zulu and Ron in his finest bravado form. Finally after shrieking at him for several minutes he backed away and went off into the night. Score one for the California folk!
That night the California visitors heard drums and thought it might be over for the last remaining visitors at the game park. Unfortunately, the lodge is being converted to a hunting camp. Thus we were the last overnight guests in the rugged, yet beautiful, surroundings. By morning the world seemed safe and we headed off for a game drive to see the animals living their lives in a natural setting where competition and death are part of the everyday scene as well as love, child rearing, dominance, and play. The park is in a lovely bowl with acres of grassland and acacias forming a backdrop for the game. We drove over the saddle of the mountain to visit the hippos lounging in their pond and the large herd of ostrich. The guide was asked about the interloper from the previous evening and he retorted that the ostriches were harmless. We felt a little foolish for our alarm the night before but one look at the massive feet on the bird was enough to scare us into our defensive tactics.
After the game drive we headed to Vryheid where we toured all of the Zulu craft stores and muti (traditional medicine) shops. Melinda had an encounter with a rough spot on the sidewalk. What a good sport about a nasty fall. The local Afrikaans dentist was around the corner. He checked out her teeth and jaw, did an x-ray and wished her well, refusing any payment for services. Another act of kindness in South Africa!
Our visitors were interested in visiting our Peace Corps site, Mountain High Hospital, the patient activities program and the excellent Zulu high school that shares our site. I met Melinda as a student in her Shakespearian Comedies and Tragedies class at El Camino College. She offered her services to teach the sonnets to the Matric (senior) students at the high school and was a big hit with these highly motivated students. The universal themes of shame and despair were quickly understood by the 80 seniors and they enjoyed hearing rhyming meter. They read a Zulu poem in unison and sang the SA National anthem which brought tears to the eyes of the Peace Corps volunteers who will be going home soon. A great day and a pleasure for all!
The rest of the week was spent touring KZN game parks and visiting St. Lucia, a fantastic vacation plan for anyone wanting to tour malaria free areas of South Africa. The highlight of the game spotting occurred when least expected. As we drove into Hluhluwe Game Park, (the oldest national park in SA and King Shaka’s hunting grounds) we spotted an animal with a white tail in the middle of the road ahead. We slowly caught up to the animal and couldn’t believe our eyes- a beautiful Leopard walking calmly down the middle of the paved road that leads to Hilltop Bush Camp. We followed the leopard for a kilometer until the rosettes finally darted into the bush. The leopard turned his head and looked back at us; were we lunch? Predators have a stateliness and focus of mission about them that is unmistakable. The face had a sweetness and tenderness to it, but the movement of the body spoke force and command.
After a week of great conversation and fun, it is time to get back to work. Thanks, Ron and Melinda for a great adventure!
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