Of Chameleons, Crocs and Hungry Hungry Hippos

Fulfilling everyone's safari dream expectations, our merry American gang drove onwards to St. Lucia, a veritable wetland of wildlife.

St. Lucia skyline taken in while sipping on Pimms and lemonade sundowner.

Just before our nighttime game drive, a Hippo was spotted across the street from our backpackers, simply indulging in some evening grazing. Everyone abandoned their dinners to witness the spectacle. After a meal of undercooked but nicely spiced chicken, we proceeded onto a night drive where our guide was so sharp, he spotted a tiny chameleon hanging out on a bush. As you can see from the size of that thing, our guide must've eaten a lot carrots as a child or had really good glasses prescription. And of course, more hippos. Sorry no compelling pictures because if I got close enough, I would've been eaten alive. No joke, those hippos are notorious for their animosity against overly curious and idiotic humans.

Is Culture Club appropriate here?

Seriously, St. Lucia should just be renamed Land of Many Hippos. Because not only did we see a ton of 'em lumbering about the marshes, but the next morning four of us went kayaking just past a pod of 13 happy hippos. We also circled some islands where crocs hang out. We were perilously close, but our guide Themba, with whom i happily shared a kayak, seemed unperturbed. It is likely that given his history as a poacher, he was not easily scared. But now a naturalist of sorts, Themba intrdepidly handled a leaky, nearly sunk boat that Emily K. and some Stellenbosch kid had been paddling with great effort.

Crocs +Hippos=NO SWIMMING, genius.

We also spent a bit of time marveling at the eco-diversity. Yeah, not the diversity I'm studying, but interesting nonetheless. There was beach too--quite lovely.

St. Lucia's Angels: and their clothing even coordinates with the colors of the beach.

And then these cool trees that had the most unusual proliferation of some unidentified fruit(?).

Bearing strange fruit

These really spiky acacias talk to each other, basically sending some sort of plant signal when they're being munched on so that they will secrete a bitter flavor to ward off unwanted herbivores.

What a prick!

Speaking of omnivores, that night I enjoyed a lovely impala stew--don't knock the vertebral meat 'til you've tried it--and some roasted marshmallows. But don't try eating them together. One course at a time please.

And even though the power went out at our backpackers, the Zulu singing group and the roaring fire lit up the night.

Durbs and KwaMashu

Some light chronicling of the first part of my 10 day Southern African road trip:

Inspired by watching the finals of the Mr. Price Pro surf competition--my first live surfing spectator experience--I was determined to catch some Durban waves the following day.

It was the first time I have surfed without a full body wetsuit, and my first time using a fiberglass board. The water was blessedly warm--and a nice contrast to the usual toil at Muizenberg. I don't think I can go back to surfing there after the suitless freedom...And the waves were staggered such that I had ample time to set up. I still need to get over my fear of paddling out and then turning the board around to catch the waves so I keep it pathetically shallow. But nothing beats the workout nor the the exhilaration of the rare triumph of riding a crest of ocean froth.

My surfing buddy Niv and me.

Outgoing ambassadorial scholar Smangele, who is headed to Seattle in the Fall hosted us, taking our road trip troop to her house in the Durban township KwaMashu. She showed us the school where Mandela cast his vote in the first free elections, and also took us to a Zulu village, Elbuhleni where the virgins of the Nazareth religious community were presented. The all had diagonal strapped dresses and came from all over. This was a holy summit, of which we did not have a comprehensive explanation, but Sma thought it would be a neat experience for us to see.

Though I have to say the best part of that visit to was actually when we met one of the church elders, after efforts had been made to track him down, and he politely declined to have an audience with us, saying that he did NOT have to time to tell us more about the proceedings. Now one might wonder why a denial to access was enlightening rather than disappointing, but to be honest, sometimes coming as a visitor to someone's community does not automatically grant you the right to know everything, nor should it oblige someone to explain themselves or their community to you. And in fact, in keeping with the theme of Chimurenga's latest issue, "Conversations with poets who refuse to speak", silence is power. It reminded me of the time when I went to a Vudum sacred forest in Ouidah, Benin. There were parts of the forest that were off limits to those who were not practitioners, as it would be a violation, a sacrilege of sorts. And it made me think a lot about the traveler's impulse to know and to question the authenticity which we seek in certain cultural encounters.

After leaving the village we returned to Sma's house where she showed us pictures of her recent work in Oman, where she had been teaching. And we enjoyed a very South African meal, with beef, boerwors, paap, beans, and beetroot salad. Best paap (maize meal paste--something in between mashed potatoes and fufu) I've had yet!

Me, Allie (Em K's sister), Emily K (fellow CPT scholar), Niv, and Sma at Sma's house

More road trip stories and pictures will be coming through the pipeline shortly. Keep it locked here to get the 411.

I've been schooled

For those of you are basking in the northern hemisphere sun, this may come as a surprise, but Cape Town is in the middle of winter. And, while I have to admit the winter has not really felt that way this week--I walked along the promenade yesterday with fellow ambassdorial scholar Jon David, admiring the oceanscape, the sparkling sun on the waves, see-sawing at the seaside playground, and grabbing some popsicles from the ice cream cart--the weather has brought its good share of cold and rain as well.

In the earlier part of oncoming winter I went with Rosemary to Mvula School, located in the township Nyanga. Mvula is a school that is sponsored by my host Rotary club. The club has provided a great deal of funding to develop the school facilties, and Rosemary, a former physical education teacher, has been largely responsible for much of the administrative day-to-day operations of the school. Mvula is like the little engine that could. There is hustle and bustle and plenty of new things in the pipeline. There is a sewing group based at the school where women sew various goods and distribute what they produce, the kitchen, a library, and burgeoning arts and music programs, as well as an AIDS orphan center. This is phenomenal for a township school. While this would be considered modest in the States, it is quite well-resourced in this context.

The day that I came, I spent an hour with Rosemary at Makro--the South African version of Costco--buying various items for the school, and then I was given a grand tour, and I sat and chatted with the librarian. But the best part of my visit was a special treat the Rosemary had brought for the children.

Uniformly queued up and in suspense

A group of women from England had heard about the school, and learning that many of the children did not have a whole lot of apparel to keep them warm, the women decided to knit beanie and mittens pairs for each of the children. And they were beautiful little sets in bright fanciful colors. While the teachers passed them out, the kids posed in their new gear.

See what a little color can do?

I hope to come back to Mvula and get to know these kids better. They were so incredibly well behaved and curious. When I visited the preschool, each one of them came up to touch my hand, and I was reminded how awe-inspiring a simple gesture can be. And it was refreshing to be taller than some people because it's usually the opposite that is the case.

Unfortunately, the workers strike that has been going on for quite sometime now, meaning that the teachers are not teaching and school is out, which is a great educational loss for the children. But to ensure that educators who are overworked and underpaid get at least little more of their fair share I can see why the the strike is justifiable. Nonetheless, I have not been able to return to the school. Once they are back in session I hope to join the music teacher for their weekly music sessions bringing some more melodic energy with my flute. And I may also help out in the AIDS orphan center and the library.

And speaking of schools, I also got a chance to visit the German school in Cape Town. The school's interact club is sponsored by the Cape Town Rotary club, and Brigitte McKee is a teacher at the school who heads up the club. I came by their Interact Club, known as KIDS (Klub Interact Deutsche Schule--pardon my German) and spoke to them a bit about the ambassadorial scholarship. I previously met a few of the club members who had the shift before mine at the Cape Carnival calamari booth a few months back, so it was nice to see them again. Brigitte urged me to return and spend some more talking with these motivated youth who run an impressive interact club, as she told me they are perfect future ambassadorial scholars.

K.I.D.S., Brigitte McKee n' me

Aquatic tuxedos never go out of style

A couple of weekends ago I went to Boulders Beach and spent some time with the penguins. It was a little slice of magic.

One of us is not quite ready for a black tie affair.

The view from the boulders: a prelude to the storm.

And just as the sprinkles from the sky started to mingle with the sea spray I found myself, along with ambassadorial scholar Jon David and his friend Ansley at the southwestern most point in Africa.

Gratuitous Tourist Shot

And finally we took a gray and overcast drive skimming the precipice of Chapman's peak, as the gusts relentlessly blew.