Quick Catch-up I: Zulu, Durban, Drakensburg
(written 10/02/05)
ZULULAND
From the land of the Swazis, we headed for the land of the Zulus. We stayed at a game reserve but I didn’t do much game viewing. Instead, I napped, read, organized, wrote in my journal…took a vacation from my vacation.
For me it was worse than boring. It felt wrong, like the selling of a culture. It was just ‘icky.’ I couldn’t separate the historical background of colonization and Apartheid from my experience sitting there in an audience of white people watching Zulus phone in traditional Zulu dances. Really, it wasn’t a joyous sharing of their history. I felt like a Victorian watching ‘the parade of natives.’
Afterward I (politely) asked our guide some probing questions:
Betsy: “So now, how did this all get started?”
Isaac: “A white man who has money. He owns the village.” [That’s a direct quote]
Betsy: “Oh, so the admission fees don’t go to a local village or the dancers we just saw.”
Isaac: “No.”
Betsy: “They just receive a paycheck for their work?”
Isaac: “Yes, they are paid every other Friday.”
Ooog. In the end, I did learn a lot about Zulu culture, but this is a rare instance where book learning would have been better than actual experience.
DURBAN
Next stop: Durban, South Africa’s third largest city. Our stop there was really just in-transit, so we didn’t stay in Durban for long—just one afternoon to morning—but it was long enough to get a taste for the city. We stayed right along the beachfront, and had quite a nice view out our hotel window (below). Apparently Durban used to be a very nice vacation spot but has lost some shimmer. In general, it reminded me of seafront Long Beach, CA.
I read about Durban in my guidebook and was most tempted by this part:
“Home to the largest concentration of people of Indian descent in the country, Durban also boasts a distinctive Asian twang, with the marketplaces and streets of the Indian area teeming with the sights, sounds and scents of the subcontinent.”
So, shortly after unloading at our hotel, Arica and I headed out to the Indian Market, despite our guide’s incessant warnings about DANGER DANGER DANGER. The dude is from Africa—Mozambique—but he is comically obsessive about safety. Sampling of direct quotes: “Don’t trust.” “Don’t look anyone in the eye.” “Never walk anywhere alone, even during the day.” Most of us just ignore him, choosing instead to use common sense, our wits, a guidebooks, and lots of local advice. (If you are going to travel, you gotta balance the fears with some semblance of trust in the goodness of people.) For Durban, he ranted for so long that a lot of the group too afraid to even stray from the hotel.
But we ignored him. With a restaurant tip from a local, we headed straight for our first stop: Bunny Chow! On my flight to Africa, the young Durbanite sitting next to me told me all about this delectable curry dish, unique to Durban’s Indian quarter. Great tip! Our restaurant was a local classic, our waiter Al Pacino’s long lost Indian brother, and the dish…YUM!!!! A giant loaf of bread, hollowed out and stuffed with curry. What could be better.
HIKE TO SAN ROCK ART
From Durban we headed to the Royal Natal National Park, located in the Drakensburg Mountains (locally known as the uKhahlamba—“Barrier of Spears”—Mountains). Our first activity was a hike to see real, bona fide African rock art! We were led by a fantastic local guide named Elijah, whom I accidentally called Isaac the entire day.
I was really looking forward to this! The region has just been named a World Heritage Site for its “superlative natural phenomenon and beauty…and masterpieces of human creative genius in the form of 35,000 San rock art images.” We hiked uphill in cold rain—and were thoroughly drenched when we were through—but it was worth it. Fantastic! The rock art we saw was only 800 years old (some are over 2,000 years old) but I was thrilled to see them, to picture a diminutive San hunter painstakingly toiling on the very painting I was staring at on this very site just 800 short years ago.
DRAKENSBURG VILLAGE VISIT
Elijah, aka Isaac, was so interesting we didn’t want our time with him to end. We asked if he did any other local tours and he said he could show us around his village, located nearby at the foot of the Drakensburg Mountains in the kingdom of KwaZulu-Natal.
Elijah had grown up in the village and is very proud of his heritage. He tried the big city shortly after high school but found it couldn’t compare to his little community. He is now hard at work earning money to buy the eleven cows he needs in order to marry his sweetheart Ciabongo (whose name translates to Thank You in Zulu). He has seven cows already, but she is getting impatient. He supports his three sisters in a home that he is building himself. We visited the modest home this afternoon. He also supports his grandmother in her house, and hopes to become a local official some day. Elijah is 26 and an inspiration. He is grateful for what he has. He is optimistic and giving. And he’s happy.
A highlight was a trip to the local village school, particularly one classroom’s recitation of a poem called “I am somebody.” I photographed the words, which hung on the wall behind the children as they recited the poem from memory.
The ‘pupils’ seemed quite happy to have us visit, and asked the teacher if they could also sing the South African national anthem. They did, and then another child asked if she could recite a poem. When she was done, other children wanted their turn, but the teacher had to cut them off since the dismissal bell had already rung.
Before leaving, several of us took pictures of the children, then showed them the pictures in the digital displays on the camera. As always, they loved it, each wanting a turn, then giggling when they saw themselves on screen. This was a very poor village and I’m sure most of the children do not even own a recent printed picture of themselves.
However, when we got back on the bus some people in the group thought it was inappropriate that some of us had taken pictures. They felt we had turned the school into ‘a human zoo.’ I disagree. You have to read body language, you have to make an effort to interact and see each person as an individual. It’s not hard to tell when someone doesn’t want to interact. It’s immediately clear in their faces, in their actions. In those cases, it is inappropriate to push interaction or take pictures. But these kids were excited, and the teachers were clapping and laughing right along with them. Heck, the principle came out to welcome us.
“It was uncomfortable to be there.” “They don’t like having their picture taken.” What is that based on? I had to wonder in what setting these tour member would be comfortable interacting with the locals. And I wonder whose boundary had really been crossed—the locals or their own. Moving on…
We also visited the village’s traditional healer, the ‘sangoma.’ The other sangoma I visited used bones to communicate with ancestors and foretell the past, present and future. This sangoma was a trance sangoma. Much cooler. The guide explained how she was selected and trained, how the process works, blah blah.
I sat patiently while he talked, waiting in eager anticipation for him to finish so that I could ask for my own ‘consultation’ with her. She only charged R50--roughly $7. Bargain! :)
Finally, I got my chance, but alas, the guide said there wasn’t time. Big missed opportunity. I’m sure Warren was waiting at stage right for his cue. Oh well, next time.
ZULULAND
From the land of the Swazis, we headed for the land of the Zulus. We stayed at a game reserve but I didn’t do much game viewing. Instead, I napped, read, organized, wrote in my journal…took a vacation from my vacation.
I did go along on one outing: a ‘Zulu cultural experience’. I wish I hadn’t. I like authentic interaction in real villages with real inhabitants. This was a re-creation of a Zulu Village—a Disneyfied, Living-History-Museum type of place. Not my thing. The guide, Isaac, toured us around some huts where we watched Zulu ‘actors’ creating pots, spears, and shields. We went inside a hut to see how they used to cook, sleep, and gather together. [I did enjoy seeing the traditional Zulu pillow, in picture at right. Ouch.] We then watched a performance of traditional Zulu dances.
For me it was worse than boring. It felt wrong, like the selling of a culture. It was just ‘icky.’ I couldn’t separate the historical background of colonization and Apartheid from my experience sitting there in an audience of white people watching Zulus phone in traditional Zulu dances. Really, it wasn’t a joyous sharing of their history. I felt like a Victorian watching ‘the parade of natives.’
Afterward I (politely) asked our guide some probing questions:
Betsy: “So now, how did this all get started?”
Isaac: “A white man who has money. He owns the village.” [That’s a direct quote]
Betsy: “Oh, so the admission fees don’t go to a local village or the dancers we just saw.”
Isaac: “No.”
Betsy: “They just receive a paycheck for their work?”
Isaac: “Yes, they are paid every other Friday.”
Ooog. In the end, I did learn a lot about Zulu culture, but this is a rare instance where book learning would have been better than actual experience.
DURBAN
Next stop: Durban, South Africa’s third largest city. Our stop there was really just in-transit, so we didn’t stay in Durban for long—just one afternoon to morning—but it was long enough to get a taste for the city. We stayed right along the beachfront, and had quite a nice view out our hotel window (below). Apparently Durban used to be a very nice vacation spot but has lost some shimmer. In general, it reminded me of seafront Long Beach, CA.
I read about Durban in my guidebook and was most tempted by this part: “Home to the largest concentration of people of Indian descent in the country, Durban also boasts a distinctive Asian twang, with the marketplaces and streets of the Indian area teeming with the sights, sounds and scents of the subcontinent.”
So, shortly after unloading at our hotel, Arica and I headed out to the Indian Market, despite our guide’s incessant warnings about DANGER DANGER DANGER. The dude is from Africa—Mozambique—but he is comically obsessive about safety. Sampling of direct quotes: “Don’t trust.” “Don’t look anyone in the eye.” “Never walk anywhere alone, even during the day.” Most of us just ignore him, choosing instead to use common sense, our wits, a guidebooks, and lots of local advice. (If you are going to travel, you gotta balance the fears with some semblance of trust in the goodness of people.) For Durban, he ranted for so long that a lot of the group too afraid to even stray from the hotel.
But we ignored him. With a restaurant tip from a local, we headed straight for our first stop: Bunny Chow! On my flight to Africa, the young Durbanite sitting next to me told me all about this delectable curry dish, unique to Durban’s Indian quarter. Great tip! Our restaurant was a local classic, our waiter Al Pacino’s long lost Indian brother, and the dish…YUM!!!! A giant loaf of bread, hollowed out and stuffed with curry. What could be better.
HIKE TO SAN ROCK ART
From Durban we headed to the Royal Natal National Park, located in the Drakensburg Mountains (locally known as the uKhahlamba—“Barrier of Spears”—Mountains). Our first activity was a hike to see real, bona fide African rock art! We were led by a fantastic local guide named Elijah, whom I accidentally called Isaac the entire day.
I was really looking forward to this! The region has just been named a World Heritage Site for its “superlative natural phenomenon and beauty…and masterpieces of human creative genius in the form of 35,000 San rock art images.” We hiked uphill in cold rain—and were thoroughly drenched when we were through—but it was worth it. Fantastic! The rock art we saw was only 800 years old (some are over 2,000 years old) but I was thrilled to see them, to picture a diminutive San hunter painstakingly toiling on the very painting I was staring at on this very site just 800 short years ago. DRAKENSBURG VILLAGE VISIT
Elijah, aka Isaac, was so interesting we didn’t want our time with him to end. We asked if he did any other local tours and he said he could show us around his village, located nearby at the foot of the Drakensburg Mountains in the kingdom of KwaZulu-Natal.
Elijah had grown up in the village and is very proud of his heritage. He tried the big city shortly after high school but found it couldn’t compare to his little community. He is now hard at work earning money to buy the eleven cows he needs in order to marry his sweetheart Ciabongo (whose name translates to Thank You in Zulu). He has seven cows already, but she is getting impatient. He supports his three sisters in a home that he is building himself. We visited the modest home this afternoon. He also supports his grandmother in her house, and hopes to become a local official some day. Elijah is 26 and an inspiration. He is grateful for what he has. He is optimistic and giving. And he’s happy.
A highlight was a trip to the local village school, particularly one classroom’s recitation of a poem called “I am somebody.” I photographed the words, which hung on the wall behind the children as they recited the poem from memory. The ‘pupils’ seemed quite happy to have us visit, and asked the teacher if they could also sing the South African national anthem. They did, and then another child asked if she could recite a poem. When she was done, other children wanted their turn, but the teacher had to cut them off since the dismissal bell had already rung.
Before leaving, several of us took pictures of the children, then showed them the pictures in the digital displays on the camera. As always, they loved it, each wanting a turn, then giggling when they saw themselves on screen. This was a very poor village and I’m sure most of the children do not even own a recent printed picture of themselves.
However, when we got back on the bus some people in the group thought it was inappropriate that some of us had taken pictures. They felt we had turned the school into ‘a human zoo.’ I disagree. You have to read body language, you have to make an effort to interact and see each person as an individual. It’s not hard to tell when someone doesn’t want to interact. It’s immediately clear in their faces, in their actions. In those cases, it is inappropriate to push interaction or take pictures. But these kids were excited, and the teachers were clapping and laughing right along with them. Heck, the principle came out to welcome us. “It was uncomfortable to be there.” “They don’t like having their picture taken.” What is that based on? I had to wonder in what setting these tour member would be comfortable interacting with the locals. And I wonder whose boundary had really been crossed—the locals or their own. Moving on…
We also visited the village’s traditional healer, the ‘sangoma.’ The other sangoma I visited used bones to communicate with ancestors and foretell the past, present and future. This sangoma was a trance sangoma. Much cooler. The guide explained how she was selected and trained, how the process works, blah blah. I sat patiently while he talked, waiting in eager anticipation for him to finish so that I could ask for my own ‘consultation’ with her. She only charged R50--roughly $7. Bargain! :)
Finally, I got my chance, but alas, the guide said there wasn’t time. Big missed opportunity. I’m sure Warren was waiting at stage right for his cue. Oh well, next time.