Hogsback Weekend: Saturday

Saturday morning we grabbed some lunch-making-supplies and headed for Hogsback.  Hogsback name is clouded in mystery, but some assert that the name comes from three green mountain peaks with vertically ridged, stone peaks that resemble hogs’ backs.  Around 13:00 we scraped up the gravel road to Terra Khaya, Hogsback eco-friendly backpacker.  This relatively new backpacker practices permaculture farming, horseback riding with halters—no bit, and it’s off the grid energy speaking.  We dropped our stuff in the mosaic-tiled rondavel and left for the nearest hiking trails.

When we arrived at the trail-head, which is located at Away with the Fairies (JRR Tolkien ring a bell?) backpacker, there were shirts on a registration table for a trail run meant to start at 4.  Taylor and I could not resist the prospect of a 10km trail run and a shirt to bring home at a very reasonable price.  So, we signed up and waited for the start. 

Hogsback had experienced four days of rainfall before our arrival, so as the beginning announcements strongly suggested, the race was a fun run-walk more than a rave.  They even suggested stopping to have a look at the waterfalls and take some pictures along the way.  Because of the rain, the largest waterfall had the most runoff anyone in the area had seen in their life-times.  Where it usually has trickles down the left and right side, the fall was booming with the sheer cubic volume of water spilling over the whole edge.  The run was extremely slippery, not following any specific trail at times, injury prone (with the bruises to prove it), but so much fun!  The pictures say more:

Old shorty-shots guy picking them out of his butt.

Can't just take pics of him, must look like the pic is actually of me, but look at how short they are!!!

Treacherous.  My butt still hurts.

Half-way done at the Madonna and Child Waterfall.  It was gorgeous.

Look who was in front of us on the rare stair-case ascent up the mountain.

Water break with a nice view

uphill

Some kids who posed so nicely for us at one of the turns.

Yep, I'm tired.

Taylor, looking cool on the bridge with an awesome view behind her.

Al..most... home...

Sundown

Super moon!!!!!!!!!!! The biggest moon in about 20 years

woah

After the race, Taylor and I grabbed a “shit in the woods” a South Africa shot which is a springbok (mint liquor and Amarula rum) with an additional shot of chocolate.  We were sweaty and the temperature was dropping and we were ready to go back to Terra Khaya for the acclaimed dinner that was waiting for us.  However, an unnamed person locked the keys in the trunk (really, it could happen to anybody), so we were stranded at Away with the Fairies.  We made many phone calls, and the owner of Terra Khaya, Shane, came to pick us up.  After a whiskey, we climbed in the back of his bakki, and he literally roared into the night.  It was very bright because of the full moon, and it was beautiful.  His old (probably 1960’s or 70’s) Toyota truck must have been hard to shift, because he just nailed the gas each time, and all I could do was laugh from the back to avoid crying.  He blew through very bumpy, jagged, rocky gravel roads like he was on Hwy 94- except he drove way on the shoulder sometimes, giving the sensation that I was on the top of a teetering double-decker bus.  All said, it was a very fun ride.

Transport Tales

Culture for Bruce

This morning I woke up and read for a few hours, worked out, and then went to Green Acres Mall.  We took the bus to Green Acres, and it reminded me a bit of my Megabus trip to Chicago with my sister in December, except the vibrant conversationists were a motley crew of teenagers rather than robust African-American women.  It was impossible not to overhear stories from at least one side from a disgruntled Indian boy. “You embarrassed me in front of her!.. (other boy talking who was a bit quieter)…. No! Of course you knew; I was cherry red because you embarrassed me.”  There were other stories of teenage drama which helped to distract from the vomit-inducing ride for those not so fond of bus transport (It came very close for some of my flatmates).

With an atmosphere like the bottom level of a parking garage, the transfer station could put a novice bus-rider on edge (ahem- my flatmate who flanked my right side).  But, I was keen to use the resources around us by asking the verbose Indian boy about the procedure.  Apparently, we just sat tight for a few minutes until the bus in front of us moved.  In the meantime, I watched the women selling long rows of chips, suave-looking business people, and people of all ages waiting for their bus.  After sitting for about five minutes, we continued on our way.

After many more stops to let people on and off and zigzagging in the area of the mall, we arrived at Green Acres.  We entered and shopped for a few hours, finally finding a store where people buy all of their toiletries, as there are no department stores like Target, ShopKo or Wal-Mart.  We also found a little bakery shop where I got a muffin and some pastry appetizers each with meat, herbs, or cheese to make a savory start to my soup and salad dinner back at the flat.  We also got to stop in the food-section of Woolworth’s which is a very pleasant experience!  They have a whole wall of food, decorating, and gardening magazines that always tempts me terribly.  Someday I will get one, for the cultural experience of course, but I can’t give in too early or I will want one every time I go.  We tired of Green Acres far earlier than Walmer Shopping Center, and Laura and I went to the bus stop and the other ladies called a cab.

Laura and I waited for bus #3 for about thirty minutes before we decided we’d try a kombi.  We were reluctant because it is often hard to communicate with kombi-boys in English, and we didn’t want to be stuck in “Central” a hub of activity which is the launching point and check point of every kombi in the city.  However, we spoke with the man before we got in and he explained to us in perfect English that we need to ride with him to Central and then hop on a kombi headed for Summerstrand (the location we live in).  He was kind enough to tell us when to get off and point us in the direction of the Summerstrand kombis.  When we sat waiting for the kombi to fill at Central it had been an hour since the other girls left in the car.  They had been home for 45 minutes already, but at least we were paying much less for our form of transportation.  And, we had great tunes, “I Can See Clearly Now, the Rain is Gone” and “I Believe in Love.” 

It is interesting to consider what a privilege it is for us to ride on kombis.  It hit me the other day that we are always the only white people in kombi’s.  Although white people make up only 10% of South Africa’s population, that is not the case in Summerstrand, it’s just that white people own their own cars.  The kombi system, referred to by most black South  Africans as taxis (which is totally different than a cab—so that is confusing for us to remember), were developed to transport people into their domestic worker jobs after they were moved to townships on the edge of cities.  It is a cool way to see a diverse group of people interacting, and, as I think more about it, it is the most contact we have with South Africans in a day considering we don’t have any classes with or live with South Africans.  I think the kombi might be my ticket to meeting South Africans to hang out with, so stay tuned to find out more ;)

When we arrived back home, I spoke with Katy Bockhaus, and we are going to live together this summer in St. Joe!!!!!  I am very excited!  I also got to Skype with Michelle and hear about her adventures in Spain.  I watched a South African movie called “Discrete,” which was a great examination of faith and the church’s place in our lives through the discussions of a pastor’s son with a prostitute.  It was a really fascinating movie.  Then I packed for our trip to Hogsback tomorrow and I am about to write out directions to our backpacker (a.k.a. hostile) and the hiking trails.

Peace out.

March Birthday Braai

Taylor and I walked to bio, and after class we walked to the Pic n’ Pay for a few groceries and then took a kombi back.  Thursday afternoon we made a salad from Heather’s South African Salads Cookbook for a braai that night celebrating the March birthdays and Norma and Bruce’s 43^rd wedding anniversary.  We had kudu and warthog skewers, lamb, fruit salads, prickly pear, our spinach and noodle salad that god good reviews, a fabulous custard, crumbled cookie dessert (kind of like a less-chemical version of dirt pie), and warm rolls.

After the braai, I got in my robe and read for class since we’ll be gone all weekend.  I pretty much chilled for the night and went to bed early.

Steeped in Apartheid

This morning we had a stereotypically African experience when our service mentor couldn’t make it to our early-morning meeting because her nanny didn’t show up and there was no way to reach her.  Instead, we watched a movie for our Lit class that was directed by Tsitsi Dangeremba, a world-renowned Zimbabwean author who dabbles in film-making.  She will be visiting our class April 13^th. Although the movies left a bit to be desired for in the action, acting talent, plot intricacy, and cinematography categories, I appreciated the emphasis on women’s liberation, music, and class struggles.  I look forward to reading her books and meeting Tsitsi.  After the movie, I grabbed some lunch at Madibaz café on campus (Madiba is Nelson Mandela’s clan name).  Then I wrote a long-needed email to mom and headed to Lit. 

In Lit, we discussed two films and the South African classic Triomf.  Triomf is the new name of a formerly black settlement called Sophiatown.  When the Group Areas Act was inacted in 1950, non-European people were moved from their homes into townships.  Black, Coloured, and Indian people were relocated into townships filled with matchbox houses and no infrastructure in order that they might develop and grow in what President Botha referred to as a policy of “good neighborliness.”  In reality the policy put all non-Europeans away from whites, neither seen nor heard of without permission from white employers who signed non-Europeans’ passbooks to be in white areas.  Sophiatown was a vibrant artsy township outside of Johannesberg that was bulldozed and, as the story Triomf describes, was filled with white-trash families moving into the city to find work.  It is a hard book to read, as it is a string of narratives from different family member’s viewpoints, so there is no overarching plot.  And the characters are all incestuous people who represent the epitome of Apartheid’s aim to ‘take care of your own.’  Needless to say, it is a bit disturbing, but the comic relief is often hilarious, and we were lucky enough to act out those funnier parts in role play in class last week.  Although it’s embarrassing to get in front of one’s class and act like a complete idiot, it set a lighter tone than the normal intense discussions surrounding the incredible harm of Apartheid which fill every one of our classes.

Culture for Bruce

I may not have expressed it before, but it is emotionally taxing rehashing Apartheid events in each class (except Bio).  We are learning about township jazz in music, which is music born of the struggle of being relocated.  In lit everything is about race, class, and gender struggles, and in seminar we are rehashing the Truth and Reconciliation Commission which aimed to put the past behind and move forward as a united country.  It can be depressing when we see these issues drug out and considered from every possible angle.  I never realized how tired I would get, not like bored tired, but just exhausted from trying to really understand what people went through and are still going through because of Colonial rule and its culmination in Apartheid. I really look forward to weekends to try and clear my mind for a while (when I'm not reading about it).