To the Ends of the World (and back?): Garden Route 2: Tsitsikamma to Gugulethu

Saturday we woke for breakfast and got right on the road (after I attempted some yoga poses to ready my body for its entirely sedentary day but was discouraged by many stares- boo). We continued on the scenic Garden Route stopping at an outdoor braai restaurant a bit off of the beaten path for lunch. We had lamb chops, pineapple carrot salad, lettuce and tomato salad, cheesy potatoes, and yummy breads. The sun was hot, and most of us got to sit at tables under umbrellas, but it was hard to enjoy such a savory meal when travelling in a hot bus all day and sitting the heat. It was still tasty.

off of the beaten path lunch destination

A view from the patio where we ate the braai

The Garden Route

At about 7pm we finally arrived in the township outside of Cape Town called Gugulethu (say Goo-goo-lay-too) where we were matched with Mamas who took us in for the night. I was with Laura Shrode, one of my roommates at Langerry, and we were matched with Ellen (Xhosa name was Nosicele, click on the ‘c’). The tour company has arranged a mutually beneficial system in which Mamas in Gugulethu receive some income and high school or college students touring SA can experience life in the township for a night. As soon as we entered the house, Ellen turned on the TV which was showing American Idol. The TV was on in the background the whole evening. She flipped to the news once or twice and The Monique Show which featured Master P and his famous son, Romeo (formerly Lil’ Romeo) and daughter, Symphony, an up-and-coming hip hop artist. The talk show was geared towards African Americans and highlighted the strong family values and business savvy knowledge that Master P was imparting on to his children. It is interesting to realize that so much of the world watches American TV.

Ellen told us that her husband was not at home. She said that he returned at about midnight the night before and he was out drinking “like men do.” She works two days a week as a domestic servant. When Laura and I offered to do dishes after dinner she said that Americans like to work while South Africans are lazy. She liked to talk about the strength of the dollar and was obviously under the impression that Americans can spend a lot of money while in SA. She also keyed in her electricity code which she buys like pay-as-you-go cell phone minutes at the convenience store or other kiosks. There is a meter in the house into which one enters the pin code and that pays for a certain amount of electricity. Laura and I had to help her read the digits because the small print on the receipt must require some “cheaters” for Ellen to read. The homes that our group members visited in Gugulethu have electricity and running water but no geysers (hot water heaters). So, one would boil water on the stove or use a big hot pot (like a tea pot with a heat coil in the bottom) for a bath. From talking with other people, we learned that not all of the homes had the savviest bathrooms. Some of them had beautifully tiled showers and baths that were used as storage areas, presumably because they awaited running water. Many of the houses were in a state of home improvement, and others may have been at one point, but projects petered out in to half-done living spaces. There surely wasn’t a lot of extra income floating around to make home repairs and improvements. The Mamas who participated in the home stay have a co-op to help one another buy appliances and other needs. Women put money in and whenever they need something replaced, the co-op helps decide which appliance will fit the bill and pays for it. It’s a good system for people who don’t have the luxury of savings accounts.

After we put our things in Ellen and her husband’s room which she gave up for us to sleep in, we learned how to make a traditional African meal. We made stavey pop, a mashed-potato-like-consistency meal made of white corn flour and water, butternut squash chopped and steamed, and chicken seasoned with a really good chili flavor. After we filled our bellies, we had a nice mug of rooibos tea, and were ready for bed. I was sad not to lay out my Easter basket on Easter Eve, but I still had plenty of treats of another kind in the morning.

We woke at about 7:30 so our Mama could get to her Easter service at one church and Laura could make it to the Catholic service. I went next door to a different Mama after bidding Ellen good-bye. The Mama next door had eight daughters and more grandchildren. Most of the daughters lived in a smaller house behind her house. They were in and out for the hour that I sat on the sofa watching Land Before Time (bizarre for Easter morning) and playing with one of the baby girls. It was fun to see another township home and the interaction of all the women. Even the young girls of 7 or 8 helped to prepare the babies and themselves for Easter service. It was a much more laid-back vibe as it is not popular to dress-up for Easter.

When the Mama and the other two girls who stayed with her were ready, we went to the organizer, Mama Nox’s home. She had some beaded bracelets and necklaces for sale that were gorgeous. She shared that she would love to open a B&B one day. We traveled together in the rain to church where as the pastor said, “The guests always arrive before the congregation.” The service began with a mixture between Xhosa hymns and American contemporary Christian music. Sometimes both of the styles were mixed into one song using both languages. Next a group did an interpretive dance to a contemporary Christian song followed by the famed Life house skit (check youtube.com if you want to see it). I felt like I was at an evangelical church in the states.

After we sat down for the sermon the pastor handed out marshmallow-filled Easter eggs. The elderly people in the community received a pack of six while everyone else got one egg. Too bad my sister wasn’t there to eat my marshmallow (she is always the beneficiary of my Peeps at Easter), a little girl in the next row got it instead. Then the sermonizing began sighting those non-Christians who claimed Jesus’ innocence. The pastor then told a story about Jesus’ power which allowed the pastor to heal a deaf woman. He then “sensed” that someone on the left side of the church had lower back pain that had been bothering them for some time. He “sensed” that it was in the lower-back and right hip. On the right side of the congregation he sensed that someone was having chest pains. He called people forward to be healed and believe in the power of Jesus. At this point the familiarity of the first part of the service seemed miles away. Before I knew it a woman at the front was being lowered to the ground screaming and writhing. The pastor and his wife were laying their hands on her while other prayer leaders attended to the others who came to the front. After a long song which hardly drowned out the woman’s screaming, the pastor took the microphone and assured us that there was nothing to worry about and that sometimes demons leaving one’s body took on an odd form. To be honest, I was uncomfortable. But Easter had more surprises waiting.

Ellen and me cooking some stavey pop

butter nut squash, stavey pop and gravy with chicken!

Easter morning. Ellen is lookin' good ;)

After church, we went to Mzoli’s for lunch. The packed, smoky, loud tent was reminiscent of a beer tent at a festival. There were formerly-white plastic tables full of boos and surrounded by people so much so that it was hard to maneuver around them. We got a table half-way into the tent on an edge. Two-thirds of our group was able to sit while the others stood. We began the meal with some fry-bread and waited for our meat order to come. The meat, chicken, pork chops and wurst came in huge tubs. We ate with our fingers, bought a R10 beer if we liked, and wiped down with a napkin when we were done. What an experience.

fry-bread= code for giant doughnut without sweetners. Tasty but guh-reeeeasy

The group

Eric mowing

Laura obviously loving life from the other side of the table

Beer run!

Air Jordan, baby! I couldn't resist asking Britney to pretend to take a pic of me while capturing the HUGE Air Jordan bling adorning the ears of a man at the table behind us.

Get some! That's chicken straight off of the braai and served in an enamel tub. Dig in.

Empty chicken bowl and the weiners and pork chops in the bowl further down the table.

The aftermath: some chicken bones.

Left over pork chops and wurst, and a snazzy cup, or goblet, if you will, made from a brutal fruit bottle.

After the meal, we went to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 27 years. I have never been on rough seas, but I found out that it was like an unpredictable roller coaster. I didn’t feel very well for most of the trip, but on the way back distraction mechanism of story-telling courtesy of Laura Shrode combined with Dramamine allowed for a more comfortable ride. Although, there is nothing like the attendant bring full barf-bags right up the isle to remind you of your throbbing head and gurgling stomach. Ha. How’s that for a vivid picture.