Guided Tour of Soweto Township

(written 09/15/07)
Most people have heard of Soweto: the SOuth WEst TOwnship just outside Johannesburg. For several decades, Soweto was the epicenter of the struggle against apartheid—home to Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu, home to many of the liberation protests, and home to much of the violence leading up to the end of the apartheid regime. Before even landing on the continent, I had already researched day tours to Soweto. I knew this was something I must do while here.

So…that’s what I did today. I was accompanied by a fellow traveler—Marco, a medical student from Switzerland. I met him at the hostel, told him about the tour, and he decided to come along as well. Turns out, it was just the two of us.

The Mysterious Car Caper
The transportation for the tour was amusingly odd. We were picked up at the hostel by man in a formal suit driving a shiny new Mercedes sedan. Marco and I exchanged bewildered glances. This was not what we were expecting. (After all, the tour cost just over $50 for an entire day).

We chitchatted with the driver, Johannes, as we drove through Johannesburg and over to Soweto (stopping at the entrance of the township to snap this photograph). We then rounded the corner to find a different man, David, waiting for us in a spiffy new Mercedes mini-van. At that point, we changed cars and continued on the tour.

Later that afternoon, as Marco and I emerged from the Apartheid Museum, we were greeted by yet another vehicle for the next leg of our tour, this one a very large 16 passenger van. And we were back with Johannes. Very odd.

I was disappointed that we didn’t have at least one more stop on the tour because based on the vehicular direction we were headed, the next ride would’ve been a big rig.

Anyway, we saw a lot. Here’s just a few of the stops:

Nelson Mandela’s family home
This was the house he lived in before he was sent to Robben Island. It was fire-bombed twice by the secret police. Very small, and had no indoor plumbing when he lived there.

Soweto Neighborhoods
We spent quite a bit of time just exploring the range of Soweto’s neighborhoods—from the one small middle class neighborhood(with homes on par with the average mid-sized Phoenix home) to the sprawling poor neighborhoods (comprising the majority of Soweto) and then to the shockingly destitute neighborhoods.



































Here are some images from one of the poorest sections:


Hector Pieterson memorial
We also stopped at a monument commemorating Hector Pieterson, a 13 year old student who was killed when police opened fire on a peaceful student protest in 1976. The whole scene was captured on film and shown throughout the world. Killing an unarmed 13 year old boy doesn’t do much for a country’s image, and this clip sparked a huge international outcry against the apartheid regime, eventually leading to widespread international sanctions against South Africa. Hector’s killing was also a last straw for many black South Africans, and protest activities became much more intense after his death.

Our guide, David, was a student at the school where the shooting took place, and he was there at the protest that day. It was fantastic to hear about these events from an actual eyewitness to history.

Orlando Power Station
Carla, I included this one for you, since I kept seeing “The Orlando Power Station—featured on The Amazing Race”. Did you see that episode?
During apartheid, this coal power plant produced power solely for white areas, leaving only a thick, black cloud of pollution for Soweto. Soon after becoming president, Nelson Mandela (who had lived in Soweto) shut down the plant.

Apartheid Museum
After visiting Soweto, Marco and I passed several hours trying to better understand what we’d just seen in Soweto through the exhibits at the Apartheid Museum. layout and style reminded me very much of the Holocaust Museum in LA, starting with the separate entrances for "whites" and "non-whites".

The museum reviewed the foundations of apartheid and daily life under the system.

All facets of apartheid were reviewed, from the homelands to the pass laws to the protests to the international sanctions to Mandela’s release to the transition to democracy… It was an overwhelming amount of information, as dizzying as the previous sentence. I was mentally drained and emotionally numb afterward. I still don’t feel like I have a good handle on what actually happened here over the last century. Maybe in time.

So…This is where, structure wise, I am supposed to give some concluding paragraph about the day, wrap it all up for the reader. But I’m not sure what to say about all this. It’s shocking, confusing, sad.

I can’t form conclusions yet, not even concluding paragraphs.

Jozi

(written 09/15/07)
I’ve spent the last couple of days in Johannesburg, aka Jo’burg, aka Jozi, aka Egoli. Johannesburg is South Africa’s largest city by far, or as my Lonely Planet says, “it’s the great big beating heart of South Africa.” I figured with that kind of billing it was at least worth a few days of exploration.

Although, I must admit I had to mentally prepare myself to come here. Jo’burg’s reputation for violent crime is legendary: daylight muggings, car jackings, bombings at ATMs… Even with constant self-reassurance that most travelers visit the city without any problems, I was still on edge a good portion of my time here.

The Hostel
While in Jo’burg, I have been staying at a hostel called “The Backpackers Ritz.” Ha. Ha. Ha. Funny name. Now I get it. They were being ironic.

Prior to Elephant Walk (the hostel I just left in Phalaborwa), I had never stayed at a hostel before. I had assumed they were all grungy and rowdy. Elephant Walk was like a charming little guesthouse. Perhaps I had been wrong about hostels? Perhaps I should give them more credit? Turns out perhaps not. The Backpackers Ritz is grungy, rowdy and a bit stinky.

I upgraded to a private room immediately upon arrival (so the room cost a whopping $20 total per night)—a good thing since on the way to my room I noticed that the shared rooms had SIXTEEN beds per room. One Six. Eight bunk beds. Wow. I couldn’t do that. True, my private room had some curious biological growth on the wall and it shared a common (thin) wall with the bathroom, but alas, as a private room, I was able to enjoy all of those perks in privacy.

Really, it wasn’t horrible, but still…I’m not sure hostel stays will figure much into my future travel plans. Hmm.

Dunkirk Neighborhood
The hostel may have been a bit dumpy but its location, situated in the upscale and relatively safe “Dunkirk” area, was perfect. I’m an omelet connoisseur, and at a large, hopping bakery/café just down from the hostel, I had the best ham and mushroom omelet of my life. If you are ever in Jo’burg, eat at Fournos Bakery.

One afternoon during my Jo’burg stay, I was in need of a new book so I walked over to the Hyde Park Mall and was absolutely giddy at its splendor. This mall would fit nicely in Newport Beach or Scottsdale, and after traveling for a month, I was in the mood for nice. What had started as a short errand to the mall soon turned into a six hour visit.

I had planned to walk back to the hostel before dark (it’s relatively safe here, but you still can’t walk at night, especially alone), but I couldn’t tear myself away from such a great bookstore. I ran into a UCLA student I’d met at the hostel, and we decided to stay until closing. She’d been traveling for the last six months and was also elated to be at the mall. We decided we’d just figure out at closing time how we would get home. (South Africa does not have taxis in the traditional sense. They only have small mini vans that you catch on the main street and share with others.)

I bust my daily budget on a new book, a delicious pesto pasta, another new book, and then a carrot cake. But the indulgence was worth it. We passed several hours in the restaurant—Jamie typing a scholarship application, I reading my new book—and eventually we befriended the wait staff. When we shared our transportation dilemma, they gladly offered to give us a ride after closing (11pm). Ah, the goodness of people. :)

What’s next
Tomorrow, I’m off to Pretoria to begin a month-long tour of South Africa, Mozambique and Swaziland.

Observations

One of my favorite things about traveling abroad is observing the little things of daily life, like the types of items that are sold in grocery stores or the process for getting gasoline or the difference in naming of basic, everyday items. While traveling, I generally spend a good deal of time just observing, then asking questions of locals. (Just like when I was a kid, eh Dad? “What means...?”)

So, for kicks, I thought I’d share some of my silly little observations periodically on this site. I’m taking a cue from my good friend Joanie’s website, which is always full of interesting little details like this. I know it takes a special sort of person to find this stuff interesting, so I’ll always warn you of the content by calling the entry “Observations.”

To give you a window on what I mean in terms of *potentially* boring… Once I decided that I should write down my observations, I bought a little spiral notebook to record them in. [Geeky, eh? :)] I wanted to buy a medium-sized notebook, but that size is called a “Manuscript Book” here in South Africa, and I can do without that kind of pressure. So, I bought a slightly larger one, this one referred to as an “Exercise Book.” I can’t tell you the exact size though (I know you care) because they don’t use dimensions (ie…8.5x11) for paper and notebooks and such, but instead call them A3, A4, A5…whatever that means. (Of course, if they used dimensions, it’d be in metric system so I’d still be clueless.)

So, that’s the kind of rambling you are in for if you read my Observations. If you are interested, read on. If it’s not your cup of tea, whenever you see “Observations” as the title, move onto the next blog entry immediately! :)

Here are a few silly observations I’ve made so far:

Are we both speaking English?
South Africans speak Afrikaans, English and a number of local/tribal languages. But, as I LOVE to discover, South African English and American English can often be different enough to lead to curious misunderstandings. For example:

(1) "Is It": The phrase “Is it?” is used instead of ‘really’ in South African English. This is very very common and I am just barely not getting stumped by it. For example, here’s a conversation I had last night with a South African couple staying at the hostel: Woman: “Are you traveling alone?” Me: “Yes.” Woman: “Is it?”

Oooh, funny coincidence: Right now I am sitting at a café writing this. The owner just came out to chat and told me all about her recent trip up to Kenya’s Masai region. When she was done, I said “Good, because I am going to visit that region next February”, to which she replied “Is it?”

(2) The nows: On one of my first days here I went to the ATM to get some Rand out (the South African currency) and the ATM wasn’t functioning. I asked someone about it, and he said “They’ll fix it just now.” So, I waited. And waited and waited…then I gave up. I have since learned that in South Africa there are two ways to say “now”. There’s “now now” which means ‘as soon as possible’. This is the good now. And then there’s “just now” which means ‘in a little while’. Good to know.

(3) Sirens: One night I was feeling a bit bored, so when a fellow traveler that I had met a few days prior invited me to go to a nearby pub with him, I thought ‘why not, it’s something to do’. My dinners lately have consisted mostly of pb&js or cheap noodle packets, so pub food sounded like haute cuisine. But... bars aren’t my scene. Immediately after I got there, I was irritated at myself for going. (It was too far from the hostel to walk home). I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t do ‘bar chatter’ (“…dude, we were so wasted, so then we…”). Bars are hopelessly boring to me. I spent the entire time playing with a little four year old who had been dragged along by his 20-something, partying mother. We played with his little cars, I taught him how to take pictures…anything to pass the time.


He didn’t speak English—only Afrikaans—but ‘vroom’, ‘vroom’ seems to translate pretty well in any language. But when he made the sound for the little police car, he said “he haw, he haw, he haw”. What? I asked the adults at the table what sound a police siren makes in South Africa and they confirmed the ‘he haw’. I shared my mimic of an American police siren, and they were equally surprised by our odd-sounding siren. Welp, good to know... now if I suddenly hear a loud ‘he haw, he haw, he haw’, I won’t fear an Attack of the Giant Donkeys.

Shopping and Stores
I am pleased to report that 98% of the stores and restaurants I have seen so far are not American chains. Yea for diversity!

I love observing the store names, many of which—when removed from familiarity—are kind of odd. (I’m sure the same would be true for a visitor to the US). For example, the store across the way from the café (here in the Phalaborwa mall) is “Mr. Price.” It’s a fairly popular clothing store, and each time I see it I laugh at the thought of The Simpsons making one of those fake Japanese commercials for “Mr. Price.” Down the aisle from Mr. Price is “Truworth.” And next to “Truworth” is “Artificially-Inflated-Worth.” (Just kidding)

My favorite little cookies here are called Eat-Sum-Moore, which I gladly do.

The Tube
South African television shows are mostly soap operas. I watch a half-hour soap called “7 de Laan” most evenings, just for the cultural experience. It’s in Afrikaans, but it has English has subtitles. I’m not sure how much longer I can stick it out though. A soap is a soap, regardless of the culture.

Oprah is on twice a day. Seems that South Africans love Oprah, no doubt because Oprah loves South Africa (she just built a big, state of the art private school here for girls). And I have seen one episode each of My Name is Earl, Friends, and King of Queens. It’s very odd to see these shows in a different country, knowing that the locals are basing their impressions of Americans on characters like Earl and Arthur.

And for that reason, I am especially sad to see that most of the American television shows and movies on South African TV are our most violent, poorly-written, ultra-macho types--the kind of movies that are just thinly disguised excuses to see people beating each other up. There’s always lots of kicking going on. TV wrestling was on all night last night. And I had no idea Jean Claude Van Dame even made that many movies.
(I have to admit I actually resorted to watching “Walker Texas Ranger” once--although in this episode the bad guy was a bear, so there wasn’t as much punching and kicking.)

Week Two in Phalaborwa

Tomorrow morning I depart Phalaborwa on a seven hour bus ride to Johannesburg. It’s been a fantastic eleven days here in Phalaborwa—on the edge of Kruger National Park—and I will be sad to leave. It’s truly a lovely place to be—so calm and peaceful, wild but ‘nicely appointed.’

Elephant Walk
As I said in a previous entry, I am so glad I stayed at Elephant Walk B&B. The rooms and common areas are very quaint and clean and quiet. The location is great. And best of all…I got to know the hostel owners, James & Elize, who absolutely made my stay. Aside from the township tour and the night game drive, I did all of my local excursions with them. I learned so much from talking with them about local history and culture and wildlife. We had such fun talking about all manner of topics. In fact, I have invited them to come to the US for a visit next year, and they are seriously considering it. That’ll be fun. (I’ve already created a possible itinerary for them. I love designing trips.)

Explorations around Tzaneen
Yesterday, James, Elize and I headed over to the Tzaneen area to explore the spectacular hilly countryside. En route, we stopped at a 2,000 year old baobab tree—Africa’s version of the ancient Methuselah tree and the stately redwood combined into one IMPRESSIVE tree. We climbed around and inside, gawked at its size, and imagined all that that tree has seen in its two thousand years. We are just fleeting blips in time compared to the baobab.


One of our many stops that afternoon was at a tea plantation for an intensely chocolate piece of cake. YUM! We sat under a shade umbrella with a vista of tea fields as far as the eye could see. Under the advice of James & Elize, I ordered the cake, but I was mightily tempted by one of the Savory Pancakes. With so many delectable options, how could one possibly decide between the bacon and banana pancake or the tuna and mayo pancake or even the liver pancake. Such tough decisions when you are traveling. (I’m sure their ‘pancake’ is different than our ‘pancake,’ but the idea of these items together on our pancake is enough to bring on the shivers.)

The tea plantation was beautiful…and sad. Although the plantation had been productive for many generations, it has not produced any crops in the last four years. In an attempt to make everything fair and equitable, South Africa has recently enacted a land act-—returning lands to individuals that can prove prior ownership of land that was seized under Apartheid. Under this act, the entire plantation was returned to a family who had proven ancestral ties. Unfortunately, that family had no expertise in the intricacies of running a tea plantation of this size, and so after one year, the plantation was shut down and hundreds of families were out of work and out of a home.(Plantation workers lived on the property in provided housing, and their kids went to schools on the plantation grounds.) During our visit, the entire plantation was empty—-there were no workers in the fields, the tea plants were all overgrown, and the cluster of homes and schools was little more than a ghost town. It was just silence. On our way out, we stopped at a bend in the road to view the idle fields and empty homes. It looked like it had been a good life for all those families. And now it’s gone.

It is worrying to think that what happened in Zimbabwe could also happen in South Africa if expertise is not factored into attempts at land equity. From what I have read and seen (on tv and in person), it looks like it’s going in that direction. But can the freight train be stopped?

Maholoholo Rehabilitation Center
On Monday we visited the Maholoholo Rehabilitation Center—a very professional center dedicated to rehabilitating wild animals that have been harmed by human causes. As our guide put it: “In the wild, if a lion puts a big scratch in the bum of an impala, that’s nature. That’s the impala’s problem. But if an eagle damages a wing on power lines, then the center helps that animal to recuperate, with the aim of being returned to the wild.”

The tour was shockingly interactive. We got downright personal with these animals—hand feeding vultures, roaming free with a baby rhino, petting a badger. It was no ordinary trip to the zoo. Of course, they are wild animals, unpredictable at times. James had a small run in with the baby rhino, who probably got a bit overwhelmed by the presence of so many humans and charged James and gave him a very firm nudge on the leg. It was probably little more than a warning from the rhino, but it was a tense moment nonetheless.



The highlight for me was getting within mere inches of all of African’s most fearsome predators, staring right into their faces, close enough to hear them breathe. I was especially mesmerized by the ENORMOUS lion and lioness, who positioned themselves right up against the edge of the cage. I was shocked with the sheer power of their presence. And whenever one of them let out even the smallest ‘raaaar’, I jumped.

If I had volunteered here rather than at the Vervet Monkey Foundation, I would have spent all my free time at the edge of the lion cage, staring into their faces, both beautiful and frightening at the same time. When it was time to move onto the next stop on the tour, I didn't want to leave. What an experience!

Here's a collage of other animals we saw:


But…
I haven’t talked much about Warren on this site so far. I no longer have the words. But I miss him. It’s like a heavy blanket that hangs over everything. My thoughts always go something like: “Wow, look at that elephant. That’s amazing. But Warren’s dead.” I think about Warren all the time, knowing that I would never be here if he hadn’t died. I miss him, and would give anything to just go back to our lives in Phoenix—back to our Friday nights at Macaroni Grill, then a movie. Back to our frequent spontaneous weekend adventures. Back to our nightly walks and amazing talks. Back to waking up everyday just shocked at how great life was with Warren.

The years we had together were truly a gift. But…going on after that gift has been taken away. I don’t get it.

All Day Game Drive

Last Friday I went for an all day game drive with James & Elise (owners of the hostel). And wow...we saw an amazing number of animals. James & Elise have been in the park countless times, and they were shocked by the day we had. We even saw animals that are rarely seen...multiple times!

Elise wrote down each time we saw one or more of an animal. We almost filled up the whole garbage bag (right). You can click on the picture and see exactly what we saw. Unbelievable.


And I continued to be stunned at how often they 'hang' together. It wasn't for lack of other grazing areas. There was plenty of that. Rather, the animals chose to be together. [Maybe I've just seen too much television. :)] Click below to see what I mean.

My favorite animal of the day was the giraffe. I tend to like animals in direct proportion to how odd looking they are (ie...I love warthogs!) The giraffe's big long neck and gangly yet graceful walk is enough to make it a favorite, but then you throw in the long eyelashes and the little fuzzy horns on the top of their head and the curious expression on their face when they stare your way...it's almost overkill. I couldn't have designed a better creature.

We also got close to a troop of baboons, which was a real highlight. (We saw vervet monkeys too but for some reason I was less excited about seeing them. Hmmm.)

And, last animal shot... In keeping with my love for ugly animals, I was fascinated by the odd looking bird, the ground hornbill:

It was an amazing day!

(As for what I have done since...I'm a bit behind on the blogging so I will post this week's activities on Thursday, before leaving for Johannesburg on Friday to start my GAP tour.)

PV Tribune Article about Warren

The following article about Warren ran in the Tuesday, September 4th issue of the Prescott Valley Tribune. I have pasted the article here (from the paper's website):
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Kinetic sculpture race trophy to honor Warren Parkes' zest for life
By Sam Lifshutz, for PVtrib.com

Last year, Warren Parkes presided as a judge at the First Annual Prescott Valley Kinetic Sculpture Race. A mere month later, Parkes tragically lost his life in a plane crash which also claimed the lives of four others. The small prop plane crashed just north of the Prescott Airport during a mission to photograph a MiG-21.

At this year's Kinetic Sculpture Race, officials will present to the grand champion a trophy honoring Parkes. It's a fitting tribute, as Parkes' positive attitude and zeal for life perfectly mesh with the ideals of the race.

"I immediately was taken by his wit, humor and wonderful way of looking at things," said KSR Commissioner and Committee Chair Cynthia Jones. "I really didn't know him well, but as the organizer of the PV Kinetic Sculpture Race, I knew his type of personality was perfect to be a judge in this event that's all about having a good time."

Unsurprisingly, Parkes was eager to oblige. "Even though he was up to his eyeballs in getting the Skyfest event together, he took a morning out to be a part of the race and he added a lot to it," Jones said. This sort of community spirit and desire to volunteer was no mere fluke for Parkes. Rather, it was the story of his life.

"I think the whole community really misses Warren," said Dave Newman, owner of Newman Gallery in Downtown Prescott. "He was so well-liked it was incredible."

Parkes' memorial service last year was in an airplane hangar.

"I don't know how many people were there, but there were 500 seats, and there were people standing," said Tom Parkes, Warren's father. "He touched people's lives in so many ways that we never even realized. People just came out of the woodwork and told us how he enriched their lives."

Although Parkes was known around town for his towering intellect, it wasn't until seventh grade that he really took an interest in academics.

"He came home one day and told his mother 'I know what I want to be when I grow up, an Astrophysicist'." By 9th grade he built his own telescope during industrial arts class , a five-foot-long, ten-inch diameter reflective telescope. "The teacher couldn't even help him because he was beyond the teacher," Tom recalled. "We'd go on hikes together and he'd give me my astronomy lessons, as we lay in sleeping bags under the clear night skies. He used to show me the constellations with his flashlight."

Astronomy became a great passion of Parkes', one which he would pursue throughout his life.

It was through his father that Parkes became interested in another of his great passions: flying. Tom, a retired Air Force pilot, has been flying planes for decades. He often took Warren flying with him. "At six years of age I remember he could keep an airplane level. I had him sitting on an attache case and a cushion and his feet were on the seat." It was Tom, an instructor at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University, who administered all of Warren's flying lessons.

Parkes had always been involved in photography, and it was through photography that he earned a living for most of his adult life. He owned two photography studios, PhotoGraphix, which he opened in 1996, and later sold to open Wild Blue Studios. It was at the intersection of airplanes and photography that Parkes really found his niche.

"He just lived for flying and shooting (photos of) other planes, and his portfolio is just full of absolutely monster pieces of aviation photography," said Joe Robertson, a classmate who attended high school and college with Parkes.

Robertson also sang with Parkes in both the high school and college choir, just another one of his many talents. Parkes even had the chance to sing in Westminster Abbey. "Warren was way into choral singing and solo singing - he had a heck of a voice," Robertson said.

On top of running a full-time business, Parkes found time to write for a local magazine and teach two courses - Astronomy and The History of Western Civilization, at Yavapai College. "Warren's intellectual pursuits took him into so many areas, there was hardly anything you could bring up from an academic standpoint that he hadn't either thought about, researched, studied or contemplated one way or another," said Robertson. More than anything, Parkes enjoyed sharing his knowledge. "When his twin nephews were four years old, he was teaching them to say 'a most prodigious undertaking,'" Tom said, laughing.

In addition to his academic pursuits, Parkes had a spirit of adventure. He and wife Betsy enjoyed traveling and often took active holidays to kayak or hike the Grand Canyon. Robertson remembers an occasion when Parkes flew him to Salt Lake City on a whim, just to have lunch.

It wasn't until 2005 that Warren faced one of his biggest undertakings. He became Executive Director of the Arizona Skyfest, a massive project which utilized his arsenal of skills and talent. As expected, Parkes surpassed expectations, winning the International Conference of Air Shows Marketing Award for his eye-popping programs and marketing materials. No easy feat, considering the ICAS comprises literally hundreds of air shows from around the world.

Today, nearly one year after his tragic accident, it's not Parkes' accomplishments, but his personality and his heart which continue to burn strong in all who knew him.

"He was one of the smartest people I've ever met, and humble. Sometimes just talking it about it, even now, makes me cry. He just was such a great person. He was one of a kind, really," said Newman.

Perhaps no one will miss Warren Parkes as much as his wife, Betsy.

"Warren was a gift in my life and I miss everything about him," she said. "I think he will be remembered for all of his many close friendships. Because he genuinely did like everyone, he had this magical way of making people feel great about themselves in his presence. People loved to be near Warren.

At times it would be hard to get through the grocery store, as we would run into so many people who were clearly thrilled to see their good friend Warren Parkes.

"Warren was very present with people. He would never look beyond someone or be eager to end a conversation. He gave whoever he was with his undivided attention, and I think that made people feel special. He truly felt that every person was important, and I think people could sense that when they were around him. Everyone felt like they were one of Warren's close friends because that is how he treated them. He also had a contagious enthusiasm for whatever he was doing, so people naturally gathered around projects he was involved in just to be a part of that excitement," she said.

"I have to be actively engaged in other things to keep my mind off of him. We have his photography around the house, the car I'm driving is his car. Everything reminds me of him," said Warren's father, a soft, bittersweet smile crossing his face.

Officials will present the trophy honoring Parkes at the conclusion of the Kinetic Sculpture Race, which begins at 10 a.m. Saturday, Sept. 15, at the Prescott Valley Civic Center.

Kruger Area Part II - Culture

And here’s Kruger, Part II--My cultural/human interactions…

Township Tour
On Tuesday I went on a guided tour of a local township called Lulekani. In South Africa, “townships” are the black communities that were established under Apartheid. Most people have heard of Soweto, the most famous township (just outside Johannesburg), but there are actually townships all across the country. I knew before coming to Africa that I needed to see the townships in order to really see South Africa.

The tour was fantastic, and the guide (Ben) provided balanced and fascinating insights into the area’s history and culture. The only thing I didn’t like was that we drove around in a safari-type vehicle, which made the experience feel quite voyeuristic--like a human safari. The guide reassured me (and only me…I was the only one on the tour that morning) that locals are happy that foreigners come to visit their township (“so they know they are not forgotten”). And sure enough…

On every street I was greeted with kids running after the car waving and yelling “mulungu, mulungu”—a term for white person (translates literally as “good people”). Adults were always a little more reserved, but as soon as I smiled and waved, a big smile would cross their face and they would eagerly wave back. At times I felt like the Soybean Queen in a small town parade, but for the most part it was a really nice experience to be so warmly welcomed. Considering the history of racial segregation here in South Africa…this was not what I expected.

We stopped at several locations throughout the four hours. One stop was at a local resident’s house—in order to see inside, get a glimpse of their everyday lives.


Another stop was at the local “sangoma”--a shaman/ witch doctor/ traditional healer. Usually the tour just meets the sangoma and peaks inside her dark, potion-packed hut, but since I was the only one on the tour and since I have yet to utilize the services of a witch doctor, I seized the opportunity.

Caught up in the moment, I entertained ridiculously high hopes (“I see the spirit of a man standing next to you, a husband maybe?”) and I plopped down my 100 Rand ($12). The sangoma then threw down the bones (and other bits of wood and scraps of material and such) and read my future, my past, my present health. She spoke in a rhythmic, chanting fashion and continued on for about five minutes, not stopping for the guide to translate.

Afterward, the guide asked “Would you like me to translate what she said”—a rather odd question considering we both knew I don’t speak Xitsonga [the local language]. According to the guide’s translation, this is what the Sangoma read about me through the bones:

-I am healthy. There are no health problems for her to help me with. [True]

-I think too much, always trying to figure things, thinking about things that happened in the past. I should try to not think so much. It would be better for my health and happiness if I didn’t think so much. [True, but as Mom says…I gotta be me.]

-I lost a close friend who didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Now the friend is worried about me. The friend had plans for his/her life that he/she didn’t get to do.
-I need to go to the friend’s grave with flowers, and if I do that, my friend will stay with me and help me. I should bring my kids with me to the gravesite.
-I am not married now, but I will be in the future.

Interesting. Pretty general, but still interesting. (She didn’t know about Warren, but the guide [who provided the translation] did.)

Afterward, the guide shared his condolences, then shared some interesting local beliefs. If someone dies young, it’s believed to be due to black magic carried out against the person by someone who was jealous of him or her. The family of the recently deceased will, shortly after the death, visit the sangoma to see who did the black magic. Also, as is common in many parts of the world, I am now obliged to marry a man in Warren’s family in order to keep the family name going. Since Warren has no brothers, I must marry an uncle or cousin, someone older than me. Tom and Kaaren, can you get working on that for me. I’ll be back in March.

Mozambican Refugee Settlement
Close to the township is a refugee settlement for Mozambicans who fled the civil wars that ravaged their country in the 1980s. Many at the settlement experienced such horrors that, twenty years later, they do not want to return. And so these refugees remain in this small settlement, two decades after the war has ended, without electricity or safe water and without the ability to work. (As they are not South Africans, they can only work in the informal sector.) After the township, we visited this refugee settlement.




































And again, I was the novelty of the day. We walked around the community and visited one of the local schools. Most of the kids were in school, but the kids that are too poor to go to preschool ($5/mo) became my new best buddies, clamoring to hold my hand and touch my skin. It was pretty cute and funny for the most part (other than when they tried to get a souvenir of my arm hair, and other than the periodic gropes in my, um, “bathing suit parts”, which, despite the language gap, I was able to communicate a big NO to).

We spent a few hours touring the settlement, answering questions about myself for locals (through the guide), and taking pictures of kids and adults and then letting them look at themselves on the digital camera’s screen.

Considering my work with the IRC, this was a very interesting visit for me.

Kruger Area Part I - Animals

Since I have quite a few pictures to share, I have broken this entry into two parts. Here’s Kruger Part 1—Animals:

Kruger National Park is world-renowned for its wildlife. It is not uncommon to see all of the big five (lion, cheetah, elephant, black rhino, and hippo) as well as many other animals (zebras, giraffes, etc) in just one day at the park. I have many days here, and will surely have many wildlife encounters (especially given my recent inclination for uninvited wildlife encounters of the mountain lion and moose variety).

My first day in Phalaborwa (a small town on the edge of Kruger), I did nothing. It was Sunday and everything shuts down on Sundays in all but the largest cities in South Africa. It was also my birthday, so I spent the day lounging by the pool and chatting with another traveler—Miriam from Jerusalem.

“The Kill”

On Monday morning, Elise and James (owners of the hostel) came to inform me that there had been “a kill” in the park. They were headed in to see it, and invited me to come along. Being the city girl that I am, I wasn’t sure what they meant by “a kill” (I was hoping an animal hadn’t been killed by a car or something), but I went along assuming that if they wanted to see it, so did I.

Turns out the kill was the good kind, the ‘circle of life’ kind. A pride of lions had killed a water buffalo early that morning. They were kind enough to carry out the kill just by the side of the road so that the humans could watch them feast on the massive beast from the safety of our own vehicles. (Visitors are forbidden from getting out of their cars due to all the predators). What a treat for my first day here. And so kind of James and Elise to invited me along.

And, as an added bonus, I saw my first elephants and zebras and warthogs on the drive in.

Night Game Drive
On Monday evening I went on a night game drive coordinated by the park service. We rode in an open 4x4 vehicle and looked for nocturnal animals using spotlights. The tour started slowly, with the first hour feeling more like I was on a bird safari than a game safari (drive five minutes, then stop for five minutes to talk about some bird off in the distance, then repeat over and over and over. Sorry birders, I just can’t get into that.) Rather than get anxious and cranky, I talked myself into just being glad to be in the park, glad to be in Africa out in the bush.

And…it was a good thing I did because we didn’t end up seeing any of the big animals, but I had a great time nonetheless just breathing in the fresh, scented air and taking in the calm 360 degree views. We did see a number of rarely seen animals (ie…a gennet cat, a mother hyena and her cubs, a jackal), so that was quite nice. [I didn’t bother trying to photograph anything since it was dark out and I’m not spiffy enough with my photography equipment to get anything other than blur.]

River Safari
On Wednesday afternoon I went on a river safari along the banks of the Olifants River. James, the hostel owner, drove me out to the launch site and even accompanied me on the cruise. (I am SO glad I am staying at this hostel, “Elephant Walk.” More on that later).

The three hour trip was fabulous, amazing, shocking! It has positively spoiled me for the rest of my trip! Kruger is in the dry season right now—a fantastic time for wildlife viewing, especially along any water source where the hot and thirsty animals congregate in the afternoons. We saw herds of animals all along the shore, from elephants and water buffalos to baboons and giraffes to warthogs and impala and other deer-type animals that I cannot remember the names of. And, in the water, there were hippos and crocodiles all along the river.

What really surprised me was how much the animals intermingled. It was not uncommon to see elephants standing next to water buffalo standing next to baboons and warthogs and impala. I suppose all these herbivores were just too hungry and thirsty to care what any other animal was doing, but wow…it was an amazing sight to see. It was like viewing a real life Eden.

The biggest treat was the massive herd of elephants right along the shoreline. There must have been over 60 of them, and we were able to get right up alongside them…close enough to hear them chewing, even close enough to hear their stomachs rumbling! The guide said she had never seen this many elephants in one spot before, and we felt truly lucky as we quietly glided alongside the herd. It was magic!

Heading to Kruger

I've been at the sanctuary for two weeks now. I have experienced it, learned some things, and have decided to move on, two weeks early.

The Vervet Monkey Foundation is a great organization doing really important work. And the volunteers and staff are all very dedicated, very kind people.

In the end, however, it wasn't a good fit for me long-term. But I am glad I came. I learned things about monkeys and about myself. And really, that's why I travel--for the density of experiences that only travel affords, and for the new insights I glean about life and about the world and, ultimately, about myself. This experience of trying out the monkey sanctuary--something I was attracted to because it was so foreign from my normal life--reminds me of a quote I jotted down before I left. It's from Michael Crichton's Travels:

Often I feel I go to some distant region of the world to be reminded of who I really am...stripped of your ordinary surroundings, your friends, your daily routines, your refrigerator full of your food, your closet full of your clothes, you are forced into direct experiences. Such direct experiences inevitably makes you aware of who it is that is having the experience. That's not always comfortable but it is invigorating.

So, with that spirit, I am glad I experienced the sanctuary. But I am also glad to be moving on early. This afternoon I catch a bus to Phalaborwa, a small town on the edge of Kruger National Park. I will stay at the local hostel (or "backpackers" as they refer to them here in SA) and take daytrip safaris into the park, as well as a number of excursions into the surrounding countryside. I've perused the list of safaris and excursions available...they look amazing.

Other than coordinating my new adventure, I have spent most of the last few days in the nearby city of Tzaneen (pop. 80,000), soliciting sponsors for the foundation’s upcoming event. What a shock…it is so EASY to get businesses to sponsor events here. I went with another volunteer, Nicci (from San Diego), and we never even had to make a pitch. Everything was just offered up, free of charge! And getting the mayor to agree to come to the event took all of two minutes. If only it had been that easy at IRC Phoenix!

However, my favorite activity of the last few days was, oddly enough, going on the papaya run. A local pawpaw (SA for papaya) farmer lets the foundation take the damaged fruit for free (monkeys love pawpaws) so on Wednesday I crammed into the cab of a small pick-up truck with two sanctuary workers and drove through the local countryside to load up on pawpaws. Ahh, it was great to see the African countryside--to see people working on the farms, observe the comings and goings in the small towns along the way…to see real life in Africa! (I’ve been pretty cooped up at either the sanctuary or at the lodge.) When we reached the farm, we pulled up to a large building and immediately upon falling out (we were really crammed in there), I heard a beautiful chorus coming from the main building. I peaked inside and saw twenty or so women, singing while they sorted fruit. The song was in their local language, Sotho (pronounced SueToo), and the rhythmic melody provided a great accompaniment for loading up on pawpaws. Fantastic!


Before ending this blog, I thought I’d show a photo of the fire damage. It’s very hard to capture, but this might show a bit of the extent. (That’s the sanctuary pup in the foreground, who followed us up the hill behind the sanctuary to survey the damage).


(Reminder--you can make any picture bigger by clicking on it.)

FIRE!

Shortly after posting the last entry, we got word that there was a wild fire just outside the sanctuary grounds. This being rural Africa, WE were the firefighters, along with neighboring landowners and, eventually (2 hours into the fire), the local fire truck arrived--a very small pick-up truck with a very small water tank.

For three and a half hours, we ran buckets of water out to the frontline of the fire and even, at times, had to stamp out parts the fire with branches of trees. It was awful...exhausting and very scary. The fire was easily twenty feet high and the sound of its march through the shrubbery was loud and frightening. At the worst of it, we could see tall flames on three sides surrounding us--from 50 feet away to about 1/4 mile--and I was genuinely worried about getting trapped.

At one point, the founder, Arthur, and a few other volunteers got surrounded by the fire. The two volunteers were able to escape but Arthur was nowhere to be found. We thought for sure he must have died. But twenty minutes later, he staggered out of the fire mumbling about smoke inhalation, and it became clear that he had had a stroke while in the midst of the fire. Half of his face was paralyzed and he was having a hard time walking. With the fire still raging, he was rushed to the hospital. At this point, I don't know his status (as I am at the lodge and not the sanctuary today, my day off).

It looked very dire after about two hours, with the fire within 30 feet or so of the main building and encroaching into the monkey enclosures. We were forced to release the monkeys from the endangered enclosures, fearing that they would be trapped. Then, not only did we have to deal with the fire, but we also had to dodge freaked-out adult monkeys, some of them quite dangerous. One staff member was bit twice. At that point, some of the volunteers ran buckets out to the frontline while others beat off freaked-out monkeys with sticks. I was a bucket runner. It was a sureal experience to say the least.

Eventually we got the fire under control. Thankfully there was no major damage to the grounds. Several long term volunteers lost everything in the fire, and I believe only two monkeys died.

I was thoroughly exhausted when it was done, and had a terrible headache. I got back to the lodge at 6pm, showered and went straight to bed. What a day!

A Week with the Monkeys

Today is Monday, and I’ve been at the Vervet Monkey Foundation for just over a week. Seems like much longer. This may be a very long month, but I think it’s still too soon to make any pronouncements.

Why don’t I start by giving you a short lowdown on the place: The foundation was started in the mid-90s by an eccentric man named Arthur who now lives full-time in a 10’x10’ hut amidst the monkeys. He’s an interesting guy (interesting in both senses of the word). He and a few others started the foundation in order to provide a safe place for vervet monkeys, who are largely considered to be pests and were being killed in large numbers. In fact, until about 10 years ago, vervets were legally classified as vermin and were allowed to be shot on sight. The foundation has worked to change that law and now vervet monkeys are legally protected. Today, there are over 800 vervet monkeys here on-site, all brought here because they were orphaned (ie…their mother was shot by a farmer), or they were kept as pets and got too big for their owners, or they were used in laboratory experiments, or they were just bugging someone (usually a farmer) and he/she wanted the monkey gone.

When monkeys first arrive, they receive a general health check, then most get put in small Introductory Cages which line the main enclosures (see picture below). This allows them some time to get to know other troop members while still separated by the cage walls. Then, when ready, they are integrated into one of the troops of 30-50 monkeys, kept within the large enclosures. The foundation’s big goal is to get a large parcel of land and eventually release them into the wild (while still protected on the perimeters).


The volunteer work here mostly consists of hanging out with the baby monkeys, carrying out the various mundane tasks of a sanctuary this size, and helping to integrate troops in the enclosures. Since I am new, I’ve done mostly the mundane stuff. Although…

Yesterday I spent some time with a monkey named Skunky, an adult male that was delivered to the sanctuary after being kept as a pet for most of his life. He’s really mellow and virtually never aggressive, so he’s a good one for newbies like me. Monkeys love being ‘groomed’, so that’s what we did during our visit together. He’d hold up an arm, and I would ruffle through his fur looking for bugs or bits of dirt to be removed until he felt duly satisfied that I had canvassed the arm sufficiently, and then he’d indicate a new body part ready for grooming. (I had to tactfully draw the line when he stuck his rump in my face. “Skunky, I’m not that kind of girl, at least not on the first date.” HeHe.)






















It’s clearly a very pleasurable activity for him, and after a full hour, I’d say I gave him the full spa treatment. Skunky’s not much of a giver though, so I left the cage only partly-groomed myself. It was a fun, odd experience though…first time I’ve been groomed by a monkey. And it was actually quite relaxing. Skunky would simply indicate his desire to groom me by smacking his lips and reaching for my hair. I would then dutifully drop my head down and allow him to root through my hair for bugs and bits of dirt to be removed. Luckily, he didn’t seem to find much (but the whole exercise did make me question whether a dandruff shampoo might be in order. :)

I also spend a good deal of time in the sanctuary’s Sick Bay where I feed recuperating monkeys water with an old Fanta bottle, prepare their meal bowls (corn flakes and milk with lots of fruit on top [just like Dad!]), wash out skanky feed bowls, and prepare formula bottles for the baby monkeys. I have participated in other, more mundane tasks (too boring to write about) and will soon spend some time in “Disneyland”, where the baby monkeys are kept. Should be fun.

However, having been here at the sanctuary for a week now, I’m fairly certain that a month here will be more than sufficient for me. The monkeys are cute, but I am not absolutely crazy about them like many of the other volunteers. And I am thinking you need to be crazy about any animal to want to clean up after their sh*t and scrub their dirty feed bowls and such. (Comments about human babies not necessary. I get the similarities.) It only took two days of being on the normal volunteer task rotation to realize that the fundraising committee was the best fit for me. So now, I spend most of my time with humans, not monkeys, helping plan two small local fundraisers that are coming up.

But, I still will interact with them a bit.

And, I am still incredibly glad to have made the switch to the lodge--for the comfort of it all and for the solace. I spent a lot of time alone after Warren died, and I have come to need my quiet time at night. I have included a photo of my room (right), since I’ve gotten lots of questions about the lodge.

That’s probably enough for now. Hope you are all doing well!

No Touch Monkey!

I'm here. I'm in Africa, in Tzaneen, South Africa--home of the Vervet Monkey Foundation where I will be volunteering for the next four weeks. Will be volunteering. Eventually...

I remember seeing a funny sign when I was in Thailand—“No Touch Monkey”—and now I can’t get that phrase out of my head because, well, I haven’t exactly done much interacting with the little buggers since I arrived a few days ago. I have a terrible cold, surely brought on by the exhaustion of my ridiculous travel schedule, and haven’t done much more than cough and sneeze for the last few days.

I did manage to sit in the chair on the admin building porch yesterday, and watched their general comings and goings. Vervet monkeys certainly are interesting to watch, particularly if there is something for them to be curious about…like a car, for instance, which has lots of things hanging off of it and even more tempting objects just on the other side of the glass. Their curiosity is hilarious.

So...the monkeys are cool, but the cold has taken over my life since I arrived. After two nights of suffering through this cold while sleeping in a tent in the sanctuary’s Tent Village (where all volunteers stay), I asked to be driven into town to stay at a lodge with a proper bed and electricity and tissues that don’t feel like sandpaper. I was driven to the closest lodge to the sanctuary, Tzaneen Country Lodge (www.tznlodge.co.za/), and, uh, it didn’t take long to decide that I was not going back to Tent Village. I loved camping while on overnight backpacking trips with Warren, but this is different. I’ll be honest…so far, it’s been misery!

So, I have just finished arranging to stay here for the remainder of my time at the monkey sanctuary. I don’t know how all the other tent-bound volunteers will feel about it (apparently this is the first time a volunteer stayed ‘off campus’), but I don’t see how sleeping in a tent in any way helps monkeys, and the sanctuary manager was actually quite agreeable to the idea. Ah, let those other volunteers think I’m a princess. Whatevah. I’ll be off relaxing at my four star African country lodge (for just $42 a night!)

Huh, my cold seems to be letting up. Interesting coincidence. :)

(The picture below is of the breezy patio café at the lodge, where I'm sitting right now to write this blog entry.)

Time to flee to Africa

Welp...I'm off to Africa in less than four days. And, it's time. I can't say I am excited, per se, as this isn't exactly the path I wanted my life to take. But I feel ready...ready for the change, ready for all that might be in store for me. Throughout my trip, I will use this blog to keep everyone updated on my adventures. I hope to post to the site at least once a week, and promise that each entry will be a spellbinding, riveting, exhilarating experience (he he).

Itinerary Recap:
For your viewing pleasure, I have added a handy dandy reference map that shows (roughly) the route that I will be taking. [As with all images on this site, you can make it bigger by clicking on it.] Most of you know the full 'plan', but for those that haven't heard it yet, here's a quick run down of the trip:

(1) I start the trip by volunteering for a month at a primate sanctuary in northeastern South Africa.

(2) I then travel for about a month, exploring much of South Africa as well as parts of Mozambique and Swaziland.

(3) Then, once I reach Cape Town, South Africa, I'll settle into a small house in the Observatory area, and spend the next four months volunteering at an orphanage for kids who've lost their parents to AIDS and at a penguin rescue center. (Why are there penguins in Africa? No idea. Guess I'll soon find out.)

(4) And, for the final leg of my adventures...I will go on a two month trip/safari, traveling thru Namibia, Botswana, Malawi, Zambia, Tanzania and Kenya.


That's seven months. At that point, I will either come back to the US and face life, or go on to somewhere else. I’m not sure right now but I guess I have seven months to figure that out.

THE question: Am I ready?

That seems to be the question I get most often lately, and I'd say yes, I am ready. I will admit this: I've spent an absurd amount of time trying to create the world's most elegant packing system. (Ah, the dangers of having too much time to prepare for a trip.) I've never traveled for seven months in one stretch (my summer trips during grad school were just three months each), and I've never had the added hassle of needing to lug a sleeping bag with me. Ick! But, luckily for my sanity, I think I've got it all set.

Once I'm on the road, I'll let you know just how 'elegant' it turns out to be (ha ha). Until then...farewell all, and please do keep in touch.

Kayaking with Orcas!

In the summer of 2006, Warren and I went on a kayaking trip off the coast of Vancouver Island -- and right in the path of migrating Orca whales. It was amazing.  Here are some pictures from our trip:

 

Zip-lining in Whistler

In the summer of 2006, Warren and I went on a Canadian adventure and stopped in Whister, where we enjoyed the beautiful scenery and tried zip-ling.  Here are some pictures: