The sounds of Africa

Two Brazilians pitched up tonight with two djembe drums they picked up for a song in Cape Town. We all got jammin' with some shakers and a random didge player and had a bit of a mellowed-out boogie. It was a beautiful moment; spontaneous, indigenous, natural and real. It was the sound of South Africa and has reminded me of the reasons why I fell in love with the country in the first place.

Ocean Vomit

We caught the tail end of a hectic storm a week or so ago that flooded lots of land, closed roads and gave us a stunning lightening show. The ocean has since vomited up a huge amount of kuk from the storm; driftwood, bamboo, three dead fish, one beached whale, a shoe, plastic bags, plastic bottles, soft drink cans, toothpaste and a bottle of whisky.... sadly empty.

Beached whale

And no, I'm not referring to my weight gain, there actually is a beached whale close by, sadly now a rather expired whale. The smell has wafted all the way through town as a mixture of cabbages and fishmongers and is not entirely pleasant as you can imagine. Haven't gone to take a look yet as seems rather grotesque and feel rather sorry for the poor bugger who ended up washed up on the beach for no known reason. Am currently wondering who is responsible for removing Mr. Whale and how they are going to do it... actually not too sure I want to know how they'll move it... someone mentioned chopping. Erk.

Out of the funk

My mood has improved since the last post and I can nearly stand up and stay there on a surfboard... surfer chick I am not, but I am excellent free entertainment for those watching! The weather has been distinctly English from random sun to random downpours and now the mist seems to have swallowed up the horizon so it's hard to tell where the sky ends and the sea begins.

Not happy bunny

So had a week of hell last week. Brain in over load, way too much time to think, too many arguements, lack of good intellectual company, living in an area of considerable non-excitement surrounded by narrow minded bigots for the most part. Whoever said they wanted to go travelling??

Hmm

So either no one reads my dribble (likely) or no one knows what they want to do with their life (probable).

Challenge of the day

I got asked today what I want to do with my life. For the first time in about 15 years, I had no answer to give. Nothing. Zero. Nada. Bugger all. Big blank space in my head. So thought I would ask the same question to those few of you that read this!


What do you want to do with your life?

Friday night blues

Friday night fights. Gotta love 'em. Like a hole in the head.

In this town, if I want culture, I get it from a pot of yoghurt. Hurrah.

Not very African...

My African Tale seems not very African at all. My life has taken on a kind of blur of meaning and what I hoped and planned to do here hasn't worked out in the extreme.

I pass through days wondering what an earth to do with myself - have had a couple of surf lessons here in the mecca of Southern African surfing and have managed to stand up a few times. However it hasn't taken away my fear of breaking waves (although think I may be improving slightly on that phobia-front) and it isn't exactly my life's dream to become a surfer chick (although shan't complain if it happens).

I cook for scores of people and the novelty of people eating my food has definitely worn off (also never had a dream to be a chef either), I have my own room yet all other spaces are communal - I am really not in the mood for dumb-arse questions from guests most of the time. I thought one day I might want to open my own backpackers but am now not sure I could cope with being a parent, teacher, advisor, psychiatrist, housekeeper, cleaner, travel guru, booking agent, nurse and general dogsbody on a permanent basis, oh and what if I didn't like someone for no good reason apart from they rub me up the wrong way - could I ever possibly get away with chucking them out just 'cos they irritate the hell out of me (probably not)?

I live in a town of cultural void-ness, I hesitate to go out while in a "mixed race" relationship, I don't go out anyway 'cos am permanently skint and even if I wasn't permanently skint I would still hesitate to go out since the choices round here are not exactly huge when you don't speak Afrikaans.

No matter how long I spend here, I will always be the outsider - only realised this when my patriotism for England during the Rugby World Cup final against South Africa went absolutely sky high and I got in a strop when we lost. How childish of me.

How rubbish is all of that. Obviously my frame of mind is up for a bit of a grumble without really having reason to grumble at all. I blame the rugby; have been miserable ever since the weekend!

Rugby poo.

Grrrr.

Swing low, sweet chariot!

Don't care how they carry the ball home... carry, jump, fly, kick.... as long as we win! Go EEEENNNNGGGLLLAAANNNNDDDD!

Am so in the wrong bloody country for this game!

Sweet chariot

Hurrah for England into the Rugby World Cup final - gotta love "the Boot"!

Gah!

F**king boers.

Dance for Peace

The owners of our backpackers are rather lovely... they bundled all staff and one guest into their bakkie (pronounced bucky) early on Friday 14th September morning and hoofed us all the way from Jeffrey's Bay to Worcester (pronounced with a "V"), an hour or so outside Cape Town for the Earthdance festival - a dance and trance party for peace with a "global prayer for peace" held at 1am on Sunday 16th September - timed with countries and cities all over the world - bloody noble excuse for raving it up all weekend, feeling the doof doof in my heart and setting free my inner hippie!

Too white

The problem where I'm living now is that it's just too damn white. I could be anywhere - UK, Australia, wherever but most of the time it really doesn't feel like Africa. I pity the tourists that just do the Garden Route. They are seeing rich, white South Africa. Nice, big houses, gorgeous landscapes, white folk in their big 4x4s and black folk on the street hanging around looking for work or a freebie. It just kinda misses the point of going to Africa in the first place. You don't visit to see a slice of how your life could be back home if only the climate was better, the country less populated/built up... or maybe you do... maybe that's why so many like Australia.

You leave the country with no further understanding of the different languages and tribes, no knowledge of traditional culture (apart from those grotesque "show villages" which are all fake, touristy but have the one bonus of adding employment to the area and making visitors feel safe) and discover next to nothing about the reality of life for the majority of the population. Gah!

Short short version

Am absolutely f***ing appalled on every level by the whole episode.

Reasoning

Since the incident below, I am very wary of being out on the streets hand in hand with my fella. This is a very small town. It is also a very Afrikaans town. I don’t know if and when I’m gonna get a whole heap of abuse again and from who. It is a weird state of affairs to live like this when going out in public.

People have since said that it is just a one off, that this town isn’t normally like that, that it is just a small minority of South Africans who still have the attitude of Apartheid, that really it’s only been about 13 years since democratic elections put Mandela in power which in the grand scheme of things is a rather short time, to please not leave because everyone where we work rather likes us, to know that we are now the ones challenging people’s views on race and that we are an example of the new rainbow South Africa. Some are definitely valid points. Many guys came to us that night and said these guys were spoiling for a fight so if not us then they would’ve found reason with someone else to start throwing punches.

But I also think, I don’t want to be that couple who challenges. Black and white being together is not a new thing in this country; there are millions of what here they call “coloureds” who have one black and one white parent – where on earth do people think these people come from? Bloody fools.

Moi has learnt...

That there are aspects of me in the “flight or fight”mode that I dislike. I will take flight sooner than I will fight. I will also stop my friends from getting involved with fights even if only to help out a mate. I must have been a bouncer in a previous life ‘cos I spent a lot of time physically stopping my fella from joining in. I will allow the metaphorical lamb to go to the slaughter if it protects a number of others.

Apartheid is a state of mind

Against our better (although slightly inebriated judgement), we recently ended up one night at Sovereigns night club. There was a nice group of seven of us actually all having a rather good time on the dance floor (which seems to have a near-permanent strobe almost enough to make you into an epilectic).

After a while, I go outside with my fella for a smoke break away from the crazy lights and rather enthusiastic use of the smoke machine… we’re just sitting down, his arm round me when a short non-descript, slightly monkey looking white bloke and his big fat friend start looking at us and then say something to me in Afrikaans. I don’t understand much of this language but got enough to understand the words “white bitch” and “kaffir” were in there.

I stand and apologise that I don’t understand what they’re saying to me because I am from England. They then start asking lots of questions about where I’m from, where the fella’s from and wondering why we are together. By this time an English guy who’s part of our crowd is also listening in… the conversation is very aggressive and these guys look like they are spoiling for a fight.

I go off and find one of our Afrikaans speaking friend’s in the hope that he may help to calm the situation. By the time he’s gone off outside to help I follow and see that my fella has just been smacked a good ‘un and has walked away saying he doesn’t want to fight, our friend starts trying to talk to monkey-boy and his side-kick and then three of them bundle in and start beating the crap out of our friend. The bouncers just look on while I have a hell of a time stopping my fella jumping in and fighting as well.

All the fighters eventually get bundled down the stairs, but it is our friend that ends up chucked out while the guys that started all the shite are still there. We are desperately trying to find a way out of the night club as it’s bordering on a full-on brawl. Another friend of mine convinces one of the bouncers to walk us out, but the bouncer takes one look at my fella and says that actually no, we can go down ourselves. We all peg it down the stairs, out the door and smack into the guys who hate out guts. More kerfuffle, more shouting and more abuse, we eventually manage to get the whole group together and get a lift home from some random who is hugely apologetic on behalf of South Africans for the behaviour us tourists have just witnessed. When we tried to talk to the police, they wanted to arrest our friend that tried to help for being drunk and disorderly. Nevermind that he just got assaulted and didn’t do anything wrong.

Did I mention that I am white and my fella is black? And all this because of two narrow-minded, racist pigs who took offence to us sitting together.

Sovereigns

Sovereigns - nightclub from hell filled in the majority by narrow-minded, pig-headed, ignorant racists. And that's putting it politely. It's one of those late night places that people go to after a certain time, after a certain large number of drinks have been consumed and after all other options have been exhausted... ie. only when you're plastered enough to be desperate enough to go in there for another drink.

Downstairs is a usually empty-ish bar with lots of slot/gambling machines with gambling addicts hanging off them. Up the stairs is an extremely classy black and white floor, covered in stickiness of an unidentifiable nature, broken glass, ice cubes and alcohol. The bar is a small counter section manned by 2 people; one of which has to be the scariest woman I have ever come across in my life. There are no seats inside (too much like weapons perhaps?) but there is fixed seating outside on a balcony with the edge low enough to tip someone over it. Apparently someone was stabbed and died there a couple of months. Lovely.

As you walk in, the vibe hits you and the urge to run back down the stairs and out the wrought iron gates, past the security that frisk you with a beeper doo-dah for weapons and onto the relative safety of the street. It is male dominated, drunken, aggressive, confrontational and a cattle market kind of vibe... just the place you want to go to. Obviously.

The background...

This is the basic, basic version; hugely simplistic not guarenteed as accurate, sterotyped but close enough and typical-ish... Although I'm sure that most of the South Africans I know can pull holes in this larger than the missing ozone layer but ho hum, I stand corrected if anyone has an opinion!

11 official languages, 9 different tribes but those are the indigenous tribes. It doesn't include the white tribes, namely "English" South African and "Dutch" South African a.k.a Afrikaans. The Afrikaans ultimately descent from the Dutch settlers in the 1700's, the English pretty much came from England (funny that). The original Dutch had a bit of a hard time... they came with the Dutch East India company which set up compounds in South Africa in a land they thought uninhabited (duh) - all male. Some decided they didn't like it and set off on a mission across the country and became known in history as the Voertrekkers, hardy folk that fought the Xhosas, the Zulus and everyone else inbetween (having discovered that rather obviously it wasn't uninhabited which rather ruined what they thought of as a covenant with God in that they believed it was their God-given land) and of course by the late 1800s they fought the British in the Boer Wars... the Voertrekkers are the ancestors of the Afrikaans today who were also the grand architects of Apartheid - in English it means "apart-ness''.

During Apartheid, the ruling National Party would restrict freedom of movement on blacks and coloureds (those with one white and one black parent), institute night curfews, banish people to the countryside, provide sub-standard education that was geared towards a life of servitude or manual labour, make it illegal to have a mixed race relationship, restrict voting rights and god knows how many other things that they managed to enshrine in law. This only ended in 1994 with the election of Nelson Mandela as President.

Hurrah!

Today is a good day. don't ask me why, just seem to be bouncing around like Tigga all rather jolly. Actually... thinking about it... I've also just had my first cup of real coffee made in one of those Italian doo-dahs that you put on the hob... a-ha... caffeine - what a marvellous thing!

Earthdancing

Working for some bloody lovely people at the mo, who've decided to disappear off with us in mid-September for a quick roadtrip to Cape Town for the Earthdance festival - heard so much about it during my time in the country but never quite made it to one so really looking forward to a weekend of hell-raising partying African style in the open air surrounded by peace loving people. Hurrah!

Why?

Nobody has the answers, but really, why did my dad have to die? I miss him hugely and have so many things to tell him about my journey in South Africa I don't know where to put them all in my head. Bugger.

Chef-o-rama

I know that for some of you , it may beggar belief, but people are paying to eat the food I cook....! I have turned into a semi chef and have come to understand (up to a point) why all those celeb chefs and other normal ones can be complete arseholes - man is it a challenge! So am hanging around the backpackers, helping out, cooking, talking shite, checking the waves and the dolphins at more or less sunrise and rather enjoying it all. Hurrah!

Ouch!

Oh the pain... Friend from the UK came to visit, arrived in the evening, drunk beer, wine and vodka and talked excellent shite until the cows came home (well the sun was nearly rising), got one hour's sleep, got up for work and had to concentrate very hard to be able to do anything. Still feeling kuk - must be losing my touch...

Wave Goddess

So I am in Jeffreys Bay, the surf mecca of South Africa, home of the Billabong Pro contest and some of the best surfing in the world. Only one small problem.... I can't actually surf... yet.
Am planning on giving it a bloody good go and turning into a surf chick, goddess of all waves etc. etc. Have definately run out of excuses now and will really have to learn not to run away from large waves.... ha ha! Oh dear.

[Photo: Jeffreys Bay Supertubes, Credit: Ubuntu ©]

African time

Y'oh! Had to have the patience of a saint the other day. Decided due to lack of funds that getting local transport would be the best way to get myself down the coast to Port Elizabeth. It is normal to wait a while as the minibus taxi fills up, so you kinda expect maybe up to an hour maximum... four hours later and they decide it is time to go, but then change the price and tell me it is extra for my bags. The guy orignally quoted me a price which included the bags (which was over the top anyway, just cos I look like a tourist), so by that time my temper was on the boil and I grabbed my little bag and said oi you, no, bloody had enough, give me my other bags, I shall make another plan. By which point the dude decided that he would rather give me the original price rather than lose the entire fare... the driver was actually a nice middle aged man but the guy in charge of the local taxi rank decided he wanted to intimidate me... which failed dismally. Hah! So in the back seat were me and my fella with another random in the front - pretty spacious considering. But then the driver stops for another passenger and her suitacase and we are far too cosily crammed in the back resembling sardines and the proverbial tin... oh hooray. Not.

Make it safely to Port Elizabeth and only just catch the last local minibus taxi to Jeffreys Bay - there is one seat remaining and two of us... someone gets to sit on the rucksacks - I always knew they had more purpose than just humping them around on one's back! Know that I've been around far too long as I know all the msuic they play in the van - mainly stuff that gets played at local shebeens (illegal bars). Get dropped off in the arse end of nowhere cos the driver isn't going anywhere close to the direction of the backpackers we're staying at, so on the bags go and off we go walking down poorly lit, fairly barren streets followíng the signs for the backpackers hoping that no one decides we're an easy target. Which they don't. Make it to Island Vibe Backpackers - party central of backpacking in Jeffreys Bay, although not on the night we arrive. Is a little impersonal and rather large, but we book into a cute little beach shack overlooking the waves, find the bar and chill the hell out with several large, well deserved drinks.

Nomadic again

Been reading through my blog and it really jumps all over the place. Anyway, my initial plans have fallen out the window with a big plop and I am now travelling around South Africa (again!) in the search for a new plan. Getting there slowly and have some South African friends these days as well which always helps when things hit the fan when they shouldn't. Somewhere still in the Eastern Cape at the mo at possibly the quietest backpackers in the world - time to turn on the TV and tune out the rest of the world and have a full-on lazy night in front of the box. Haven't done that for months and it has to be one of the first times in South Africa. Ho hum. At least it's free. Off again tomorrow with my bag/home on my back via minibus taxi (also known as "local transport"!) down the coast in the hope of a more vibey place to stay and interesting things to do...

Parking Off

Spent the day avoiding the boss by going and parking off on the beach. I have been told that I am not allowed my days off because I have resigned... this means working 45 days straight (no weekends, nothing) which I'm pretty sure is not right, nice or legal. So took it upon myself to give myself one day off having worked 35 days straight. I am so tired. The beach was lovely. Sat on a hill overlooking Coffee Bay and read my enormous beast of a book while listening to the waves roll in and crash against the rocks. I know I will be back in Coffee Bay sometime, but it seems obvious that now is not my time.

The Reality

Supposed to be co-managing a backpackers while combining the development project... find myself managing the entire place less than two weeks after arriving in South Africa with unhappy staff and a weird-arsed atmosphere. Manage to improve atmosphere, manage Xhosa and tourists staff nicely, get things to where they should be and organise a three day festival that went off without a hitch in early July.

Bosses decide to get divorced, the shit hits the fan and I get shouted at (and I mean full on shouting) almost every morning for minor issues that are then not an issue in the afternoon. Discover bosses not happy with my work, I discover I am not happy with them either, resign (along with about five other staff who've also had enough) and now I'm back on the road...

I wrote a Mission Statement, Constitution and Funding Proposal for my development project and the chairman has yet to find the time to read it although I gave it to him well over a month ago. He then accuses me of doing nothing to further the development project. What a joke.

So sadly, I am not a happy bunny to be leaving my second home in Coffee Bay and never expected things to work out the way they have, but hope that further opportunities will present themselves to me as I work my way down the coastline towards Cape Town. Myself and some friends have some ideas in the pipeline so I will see how they go... wish me luck!

Third Time Lucky

My African Tale© actually starts in the UK even though it wasn’t supposed to… My lovely father was diagnosed with cancer in January 2007 and passed away in February 2007 so my initial plans of jetting off just as the winter set in went down the drain quite spectacularly.

It takes a lot for life to take the bounce out of me, but it nearly managed it and maybe it’s still trying, but I hope not. Less Tigger, more Eyore... maybe I should take up Pooh Sticks as therapy.

I have stuck out an entire British winter and have had the good fortune of some great people in South Africa who have held everything open for me so that My African Tale has a hope of being heard as it happens.

So there you have the background and now all I have to do is figure out the direction of this blog – no doubt it will end up part informative stuff and part KT dribble as usual!

The Idea

The Idea - youth and education centres in a small rural community in the Eastern Cape to focus on HIV/AIDS children - either infected themselves or orphaned because of it. This area has no access to anti-viral drugs, poor levels and quality of education and high HIV/AIDS infection rates.

Hoping to have a strong focus on school visits throughout the Eastern Cape and holding drumming workshops that combine a message kids will listen to alongside traditional music. Is there a chance of breaking the Guinness World Record for the number of people drumming simultaneously and linking in with the huge coverage of the 2010 football World Cup? There are so many directions that this project could take…

Having spent time here before I am so looking forward to a spending a year here with a lovely bunch of people, working like a beast and seeing what happens!