South Africa: the good, the bad and the ugly

It has been a busy three plus months in South Africa, what with settling in, school and the drive to have as many adventures as possible in any and all downtime (a quest not conducive to weekend studying and essay writing). I genuinely feel like I live here and in my mind this country now qualifies as home.

It’s a funny thing – I had been planning my escape from Vancouver for years, ever since I moved back from Australia. The longer I stayed, the sadder I was. While beautiful, Vancouver has always left me feeling less than inspired - I always believed it a city great for other people but not for me. By leaving, I hoped to find… it’s hard to pinpoint… inspiration, adventures, history, a city with soul, a more organic environ. While ultimately my heart lies in Boston/NYC/Sydney, I have found something in Cape Town remiss in my world for quite some time. Now, I feel genuine pleasure every time I step outside. The beauty of the city, its organic-ness, the disorganized mess of colours, the lushness…and the sunsets make me feel excited about life. I think since my brother’s death I really lost my spark, and now I can feel it starting to filter back in – and it feels fantastic in the moments when it does.

In fact, it will be odd when I leave SA to once again live somewhere where organization and timeliness exist, where the internet always works, where making any phone call doesn’t cost a fortune, where the quality of food (including the five star restaurants) is once again decent, where you don’t have to worry about your security quite so much…that being said, this country is slowly getting under my skin and I find myself charmed by its physical beauty and many of the people I have befriended. I have certainly met some characters and had some amazing experiences. I often find myself thinking that I am really lucky to lead the life I do – being a free spirit is definitely under rated.

In South Africa, the people are both a blessing and a curse. I could write a lot of exceedingly unflattering things, observations conceded by most every expat and foreigner I meet, save those who come from even worse environments– but have also made some wonderful friends here and would hate to ever offend them by making sweeping generalizations that, while widespread, do not in any way, shape or form apply to them. I will however say this: living here has made me incredibly proud to be Canadian/German/Australian, and I am grateful to have been raised in the culture(s) that I was. In the eyes of the world, we might be polite pushovers, but I’ll take that over some of the shocking attitudes of entitlement, total disregard for basic manners and desperate social climbing that I bear witness to on a daily basis living in the Western Cape. But I digress…I should highlight my travels more and the societal disappointments that exist less.

I am recently returned from a sojourn up north, to the provinces of Gauteng and Limpopo, as well as a safari at the Pilanesburg game reserve. The safari was undertaken with my most colourful Vancouver friend, Jen and her sidekick Brad. Familiar faces were a welcome sight and it was nice to hear Canadian accents again – it has been a while, and there aren’t many of us in this country. We went on a camping safari, meaning that while we had a guide who did our cooking, driving etc, we had to erect and sleep in tents. I half expected a bushman Afrikaaner with guns and an unintelligible brogue, but our guide was in fact Scottish, with a full blown Edinburgh accent and pasty complexion to match. During our stay we were lucky enough to spot lions, rhinos, hippos, giraffes, zebras, elephants and a leopard, as well as various lizards, birds, turtles and antelope and springbok like animals…and a monkey with sky blue balls. The highlight was a sunset drive in the open safari truck – watching the sun go down over the spectacular scenery was breathtaking. I really cannot do it justice beyond saying that everyone should go on a safari at least once. There is something so tranquil about being out in the middle of the African wilderness, no other humans around for miles…surrounded by nature and animals – and knowing that you are in their territory. It’s a very peaceful experience.

Following the drive and a tasty braai prepared by our Scotsman, Jen and I headed off for some skinny dipping. While in the water, we could hear strains of house music coming from the woods…unexpected to say the least. Curiosity aroused and lit by a full moon, we followed the music until we found the source: not African drummers but rather a hilarious, green hooch swilling South African weatherman, straight out of the movie Anchorman (I swear), who invited us to celebrate St Paddy’s Day with him. Even in the wilds of Africa those of good Irish stock are enjoying a drink … Of course we obliged, and things were soon messy, with the camp guards asking us to shut it a number of times. When we finally returned to our tent two hours before the 5 am wake up call, I was at least tired enough that I could sleep through the animal noises coming from the sleeping bag beside me (Jen’s snoring, not a lion).

We also spent some time in Pretoria, a city about which I can’t find much exciting to say - it's a bit of a throwback. We ended up at the city’s nicest hotel thanks to Brad’s points, right across from the historic Union buildings – the location of the RSA government. For the most part, Pretoria is verging on the dilapidated. A shame really, because you can tell it was once a beautiful city. The entire CBD is considered unsafe for whites (it’s Zulu territory), and Jen and I unsuspectingly ended up in the city’s most dangerous neighbourhood while having dinner one night. We definitely had the feeling something was off, and when our driver came to fetch us, he basically herded us into the car as quickly as he could before speeding away. We also enjoyed partying Hatfied Square, the centre of the city’s nightlife. It’s a pretty fun area, a big square surrounded by maybe 30 restaurants, clubs, pubs and bars – in between which you can walk freely with your drinks. A good, if slightly tipsy time was had by all until our driver failed to show up at 2 am when it was time to head back to the hotel. In SA there is no such thing as hail-able street taxis, nor is there really any public transportation (unless you want to get on a minibus where if you aren’t murdered, you’ll be mugged).

We also visited Johannesburg for a couple of days – I was intrigued by ‘the world’s most dangerous city’ moniker. We hired a local driver who works for a CBS news correspondent Jen knows (figuring this would buy us good access), and were treated to a tour of Hillbrow (apparently SA’s most dangerous neighbourhood). As a white, you can only go in the daylight, you best not get out of the car, and you do not under any circumstances get caught taking photos. The area was featured in one of my favourite movies of recent times, District 9. It definitely felt scary and shady, and the Nigerian drug dealers were indeed plentiful. We also toured Soweto, including a rip off lunch on Vilakazi Street and a stop by Nelson Mandela’s former home, Winnie Mandela and Desmond Tutu’s current homes, and a drive by of Mandela’s residence in Houghton. I spent the rest of my time in Sandton and Melrose Arch – both nice areas very much in contrast to the burnt out war zone feel of the Johannesburg CBD.

The other highlight of the trip, and one I highly recommend anyone who comes to SA undertake, was a trip to The Ranch, a resort just outside of Polokwane. For those who saw and liked my lion photos – this is where they were taken. It’s a fantastic spot, situated on a game reserve, with semi–tame and wild lions, as well as lots of babies, which are too cute for words. Their squeaky little roars are the funniest noises…there were also some baby hyenas on hand, and apparently I just missed baby tigers. The Shearer family were excellent hosts – such nice and hospitable people, and activities included muddy off-roading in a rainstorm (it was nice to see a Land Rover being put to proper use and not just for yuppie transportation), and seadoing at a lake side cottage that looked like a scene straight out of Muskoka. Unfortunately, I managed to flip the seado. Fortunately, it still worked, though my pride was a little damaged. I also spent the night in a luxury tent by a rushing stream, including an ice cold swim in the morning (very Canadian) – which means that I have now slept in tents four times in my life – three more then before I came to Africa. I must also say, regarding Limpopo and Johannesburg - before coming to SA, I envisioned that my friend circle would include people of all colours; it is the supposed rainbow nation after all. But in the Western Cape there is a fairly defined separation between ethnic groups. In Gauteng and Limpopo, the same does not apply and everyone intermingles as a normal society – it was nice to actually spend time with some awesome black people.

Another stellar outing: A couple of weekends ago, I went on an overnight camping trip with an international contingent to Kogel Baie (Pronounced Cool Bay), a stunning, surfer friendly beach on the Atlantic coast en route to Hermanus. Our group included three Dutch (I love the Dutch, such down to earth, laidback people), two Americans, two Canadians, and two South Africans. Despite the howling winds which deposited a lot of sand in our braai, it was amazing. The sand was white powder, the stars were out in full force, the crashing waves were soothing to fall asleep to, and there were phosphorescents in the water! Every time we jumped in a puddle or even took a step in the ocean, it lit up with bright yellow sparkles that flew around our feet. It literally felt like being in a video game where every step we took was infused with magic. It was beyond cool – it blew my mind! Unfortunately in the morning I was the first riser and decided to take a walk on the beach – it looked deserted for miles. But once I had trekked maybe two km down the way I was harassed by drunk, coloured men. It’s a sad fact of life here that no matter how beautiful a vista is you cannot enjoy it alone (even in the middle of nowhere) and that your safety must always be your first priority.

Later that day we made the miscalculation of taking the train from Stellenboch to Cape Town – a mistake that lead to my first real run in with crime (other than the world’s stupidest car accident). The trains here are disgusting – full on ghetto and not a wise choice for whites in groups of smaller than 5. We were three, girls, white and with large bags…so probably asking for it. As soon as we hopped on the train I had the feeling it was a very bad idea, and sure enough not ten minutes into the ride one of our group was mugged. The muggers, who had the dead eyes of drug addicts and took off into a township as soon as the doors opened, only escaped with a new blackberry. Still, it was incredibly unsettling, and made the next hour of the train ride extremely tense as we wondered what other criminals might get on the train at each township stop.

One afternoon after class I went down the coast to see a wild penguin colony with a population of thousands in the most picturesque setting imaginable. They really are the cutest. One was holding his head up in the wind with a look of sheer ecstasy on his little face as it ruffled his feathers. Others were chilling in their penguin dens watching the humans watch them. They waddle along, always on the verge of tipping forward yet miraculously never do. I have always adored penguins with their unique personalities, and I was charmed.

Another weekend we made the trek to Crystal Pools, a local baboon infested cliff jumping destination up the road from the Strand. It’s an exhausting hour plus hike up a mountainside in the hot sun to reach the pools, but well worth it. Along the way you pass a number of baboons who are completely unphased by humans, and in fact regularly attack. They are incredibly intelligent, recognizing and targeting bags that may contain food – hence you must cover all bags with towels to prevent attack. The pools are an ascending series of five, with fresh, icy mountain water for swimming (filled with tadpoles and frogs) and rocky waterfalls that you can climb. I have to say, despite my fear of heights, scrambling up waterfalls and giant rocks in my bikini was amazingly fun. I only managed to jump off the lower cliffs, leaving the 50 metre plus cliffs to the brave souls and show offs.

I have begun volunteering one afternoon per week with a small scale United Nations sponsored initiative –the Kayamandi Literacy Project, where we help township elementary students with their spoken English and reading. I was nervous at first – I have never felt an inclination towards teaching and it can feel daunting when a group of 12 children and their assistant are sitting there staring at you. However, the work is really satisfying, and the children are charming, with distinct little personalities that shine through (I’ve never been the most maternal, so I don’t spend much time with kids). It can be hard to get them to focus, the girls especially want to play with your hair (they aren’t used to the smoothness of white hair) and jewellery, and the little boys all compete for attention. I feel sad for these kids and really want to help them rise above the lots they were born into. They are after all the future of SA and this country has a long way to go before equality is widespread.

Through this activity I now recognize that I have led such an incredibly privileged life. I was spoiled rotten as a child, spending my summers in Europe and having almost every toy I could imagine, and probably never really appreciated any of it. Yet despite my upbringing, I thought that I understood the world. But between my travels in the Middle East, South America and here I realize that I didn’t understand anything – and I haven’t even been to India yet! It’s strange – sometimes when I’m in these areas, I almost feel as if I’m on a movie set – that it can’t be real, and that real people cannot actually live in this way – it MUST be staged. What kind of a life could that be? As we drove through the township back to Stellenbosch it occurred to me that the old LV purse in which I carry my school books is probably worth more money then many of these people see in even ten years. And at that moment I felt deeply ashamed and a little ridiculous.

Last weekend was particularly interesting. On Friday I joined a group of international students for an escorted trip into two famous Cape Town townships (you DON’T go there without a local) – Gugulethu and Langa. These townships are rife with history – famous anti apartheid protests, killings and whatnot. It is sickening what the government here did to black people. They treated them more as animals than humans – it is no wonder that this country now faces the crime problems that it does. We visited various community spots including an arts centre, walked through the streets, and a drove through the business areas where we saw the witch doctor (sangoma) supply shop and the various sheds that form the central marketplace of township life. We also went into one of the homes to meet an elderly lady, and saw how she lived in shockingly cramped, smelly (but typical) quarters. And yet she kept it impeccably tidy. She answered our prying questions about life in Langa, and we learned about the white families of the desperately social-climberish Constantia neighbourhood who hire these women at a young age to raise one to two generations of their children, while paying them a pittance. And then, when they are no longer needed or reach retirement age, they are given a severance of something ridiculous like R100 and sent on their way. No pension, no gratitude for the years of service. Nothing. This is indeed the type of thing that is very difficult to swallow. But the night finished on a high note with an excellent dinner at the famous Mzoli’s Grill restaurant, a massive, smoky tent filled with the music of African drums and the only place in the township where whites (tourists mostly) and blacks can be found intermingling and happily chowing on the best braai I have had in South Africa. It was a fantastic and thoroughly enjoyable experience that felt really authentic. An amazing place, though perhaps a little daunting to get to due to its township location.

I also spent a great day with my friend Luke, who took me on a tour of many places I have yet to see in the region – despite the hurricane force winds(we estimated 70 km/hour). Our outing included the scenic drive to Chapman’s Peak (all I can say is wow!), and a turn in the antique shops of Hout Bay and Noord Hook, as well as some stellar ice cream and a leisurely stop in one of the area’s wine farms where I drank all of my wine and his as well. We attempted to visit a really beautiful beach, but I literally got sand burn from the wind, so this activity was short-lived. I also enjoyed dinner at my favourite Cape Town eatery which is always a treat, the Side Walk Café perched high on the side of Table Mountain, and one of the very few restaurants (actually only the second so far) that rivals the quality of food we enjoy back home.

I’m sure I’m missing a million stories, but have been too busy with school to update regularly. In future I will make a better effort at regularity and save myself the effort of writing 5,000 word updates!