CELEBRATING 10 YEARS OF DEMOCRACY

This year, South Africa celebrates Ten Years of Democracy. Ten years ago, President Mandela was elected at the president of the country. Yes, it was open ballot, and in some cases the queues went around entire blocks of the townships. Ten years of freedom later, we are bombarded with ads from banners, to radio to television campaigning that the ANC (African National Congress, majority government now) is not good enough. Look what it did for the country for the past ten years.

Mostly white South African are complaining that the country is going through deterioration. People in their 20s and 30s want to immigrate. Their dream destination: America. They say the crime has risen, there is more violence, and hijackings on the street. A security/burglary culture is capitalizing on the fear of South Africans. And what of Affirmative Action? It's taking jobs away from the competent whites in the country and leaving it to underqualified black people who don't know the first thing about efficiency and bureaucracy.

People have said to me, "It's already been ten years and our country is getting worse." or "Why did you come to South Africa from Canada anyway??" But is ten years really enough for big changes to occur? Look, for example, at Germany. It's been fifteen years since the Berlin Wall came down and the unemployment rate is still 30% in the Eastern part. Somebody told me the unemployment rate in South Africa is 25%.

Okay, but let's not talk about a country or even a city like Berlin. What about the Canadian Federal Government? After 20 years of Affirmative Action, the number of female employees is just starting to rival those of the male employees and even then, males are mostly at the top of the food chain. They started campaigning for visible minorities a few years back and we will probably only start seeing the benefits in another 20 years.

There are so many opportunities in South Africa. During the Apartheid, European countries banned trade with South Africa. Now that's over. Even though the white community in SA do not see differences, do the blacks? They are no longer restricted to live in townships, they are able to have a chance to get a better paid job, some even in high positions. The government is making work for unemployed people and there is great support for the BEEs (Black Empowerment Enterprises), SMMEs (Small, medium and micro-enterprises) and emerging businesses as well.

Being a ten year old democratic country is exciting. Imagine all the possibilities. My friend who lives in Cape Town saw many of his friends immigrate to Australia, the UK, and Canada. He grew up in Pretoria and has now decided that there are still opportunities abound in this country (OK, he's in Cape Town, how can he complain?). There is time to see it grow.

People are so uncertain of the future, from those who remember SA as being "white" to those who dream of earning riches in America. What about people who were scared before Hong Kong was returned to China in 1997 and hoards of families fled to North America, Europe and Australia? Now, seven years later, people are returning to HK because the economy is not too bad and they miss their lives there. I can foresee South Africans who have fled the countries come back when they perceive that things are improving.

14 April 2004 is the day to exercise your right to vote. This year, it's a National Holiday so no South Africans have an excuse not to vote (non-SA citizens such as myself, get an extra day to explore the country!). I'd like to come back after twenty years of democracy to see what the new government has done with this young country.

BACKPACKERS. . .STRANGER AND STRANGER

I had a conversation with my guesthousemate about backpackers and he told me how he hated the whole culture of it: going to a new place, staying where other ex-pats stay and just hanging out with them. Where is the local culture and meaning of visiting a new place and learning about the culture? People arrive there and bombard each other with the same questions: where are you from, where have you been and where are you going? Kinda like the philosophical meaning of life---but not.

I have to admit I'm guilty of this as well, just to form bonds with people, to find people to travel with and to find out the best and cheapest way to get around. But I completely understand why being a naive traveller is negative. Perhaps it's better to go to a place for a purpose: to work to learn, volunteer and learn about the place itself, not to let another foreigner drink you under the table every night.

Yet there is something almost compelling of the backpacking scene---you get to meet all these interesting characters. From two young university student from Victoria riding their bike across Canada in a Halifax hostel to a Scottish man walking across Canada in three stages in Winnipeg, there is a magnetic force that attract freaky people to this cheap and easy form of accommodation. In South Africa, you find mostly Germans there (like you do with the interns and temp workers in general).

A VET IN MPUMALANGA

My weekend road trip to Mpumalanga province I took last week with two carloads of German embassy interns brought us to a backpackers in Graskop, just outside of Kruger National Park. Here, we met an interesting character. . .

His name is Richard from Kansas, Missouri. Born in South Africa, he immigrated to the lovely place of Minnesota, USA at the ripe age of 5. He wanted to be part of the Marine Corp since age 7. Part of the appeal was the uniform. He was able to realize his dream right after high school graduation and signed up for 4 years with them. During last year's War on Iraq, he was on the scene from Feb-May.

The day he got back from Iraq, he met the girl of his dreams. Less than a year later, he has been engaged and broken up with her. He was in Mpumalanga participating in a 30k bike race. He is currently studying opera with his dad's old voice teacher. He wants to do a bachelor's in music when he returns to the states, hopefully in Julliard.

He's pro-Bush and Pro-Republican, doesn't understand why people dislike Bush, dislikes Clinton and JFK, and hates Arabs ("In Thailand, they have this saying that when you face a rattlesnake and an Arab, you should rather turn your back on the snake cuz it will go away"). He told me not to trust the media since all US media is Liberal and anti-Bush, especially CNN.

"They brainwash you in the Marines," he told me. "They teach you that what civilians think is wrong."

Richard is 23 years old. I am v. scared.

WHAT'S GOING DOWN IN CAPE TOWN

I organized my first big event the beginning of the month- FTTSA's first annual stakeholders meeting: one in Joburg and one in Cape Town. It was so hectic trying to get in-kind donations, finding an international guest speaker, doing invites and logistics. But at the end it all worked out, cuz the second presentation was in Cape Town and I took a few extra days off to explore this happening city for the first time!

Watch out. . .they bite

Who knew there would be penguin colonies nearby a hot city with bright clear skies (Boulder's Beach)? I haven't been bitten but if you try petting them, they snap sharp beaks at you. These penguins were originally called Jackass Penguins because of the braying donkey calls they make. But then they realised that other penguins make similar sounds and changed the name to African Penguins as they are the only ones to breed in Africa.

The Vancouver connection

Cape Town is an entirely different place from Pretoria and I'm surprised that it's part of South Africa! The Atlantic Ocean and the mountain backdrop including Table Mountain remind me of home. They say that Cape Town is the Vancouver of SA and Joburg is the Toronto of the country. Cape Town people are laid-back and the living is easy, while Joburg life is hectic with people relocating there for work and money. Of course while I was in Cape Town, there wasn't even a drop of rain. But then again, June/July is the rainy season there.

Climbing up Table Mountain is reminiscent of the Grouse Grind except this stair-climbing exercise provides no areas shaded by trees. There's also a section where it's flat, when you go from one side of the mountain to another. Many trails can take you to the top, apparently. Unfortunately, being lost confined us to the mainstream and less interesting trail. We took the easy way down though--cable car. Hard-core hiking ex-pats that we are, we went up in the middle of the day, scorching sun beating upon our back, 1 litre water bottle weighing us down. 2.5 hours later, we reach the top and got the best view of the city.

I also went to Cape Point, the southern most tip of Africa (and probably the windiest). People like to think that this is where the Indian and Atlantic Oceans meet, but this phenomenon actually takes place in Cape Arguilas (?). I also stayed two night in Stellenbosch, the wine region of SA. The wine estate is called Spier and it's one of the tourism establishment with the Fair Trade in Tourism SA Trademark (yay for complimentary bednights).

But now I'm back. Gloria in Pretoria. . .

RAIN, RAIN. . .

Usually associated with Vancouver's tempermental rainforest climate, this wet phenomen is now playing in a city near me- Pretoria to be exact. I've never contemplated this as much as I have the past week. It's March next week which means- Southern hemispherically speaking- summer is coming to an end. February is possibly the wettest month in the Gauteng province and on the night that I returned from my wet camping trip, it started to pour. Can't get enough of that sugar rain. . .

With only a flimsy umbrella in head and two sturdy legs, I walked home from work as always. The rain fell like a garden hose switched on high that Tuesday. Ankle high puddles lasting an entire block made me laugh and I finally gave up tip-toeing frog-legged from side to side. I had no choice but to submerge my half-suede shoes in water for the fifteen-minute walk. I had never been so soaked walking from place to place in an urban surrounding before.

Not only does rain bring about fresh blossoms and green stuff, it also seduces flying termites into unsuspecting victim's homes. After the rain, these "ants" with wings flock in, flapping about. They just plant themselves on a flat surface and rub their backs enthusiastically to get rid of those spidery wings. Then they try to burrow a hole in the ground to make nests and mate.

This doesn't work so well on kitchen counters, stoves, or sink drains, but boy do they try. My friend who stayed in Namibia for a year told me that he lived in a room that was swarming with these puppies! I was sitting in my room once and heard a faint rustle at my door. Turning around, I saw two flying termites squeeze themselves into my room from under the door. I heard that they taste like peanuts, deep-fried, or freshly picked. I'd rather get protein from canned tuna. However, ant colonies seem to like the taste of them even though flying peanuts are probably 20 times their size.

Hmm. . .I'm getting hungry just talking about food- er, I mean termites. . .

Rocking in the Mountains in SA

The Rockies may crumble,
Gilbraltor may stumble,
they're only made of clay
but hard core hiking is here to stay.

No Rockies here, but there is the Drakensberg mountain range here. Lesotho, the only country in the world completely surrounded by another country (South Africa) is situated right in the middle of the range making the entire country a mountainous region. I went camping in the Central Drakensberg, outside of Lesotho in a place called Injasuti. Berg means mountain in Afrikaan, German and other related languages.

It's a real rainy area similar to Vancouver- not that I would hike around the grey concrete jungle of Downtown Vancouver with a backpack stuffed with army ration, stoves, powdered food and tuna cans. It's a not easy being green. . .especially when you are full of rivers that hikers have to ford. In wet tackies (runners), cotton socks and zip-away pants I step from one current immersed rock to the next. Next thing I know, I am thigh high deep in water. Not that it makes a difference from walking in the downpour. It just adds 5 lbs to each leg as I continue on my way.

The neat thing about this area are the rock paintings by the San people, or the bushpeople who migrated up to the Kalahari desert. They hunted Eland (biggest antelope), giraffes, turtles and ostriches. They even had signals for each animal. They used a lot of clicking in their language which the Zulu borrowed. Rock paintings the guide showed us included eland, rhinos and a battle scene with local Black farmers.

We slept in a cave the first night (actually more of an overhang) and the sound of rushing rivers lulled us to sleep. This is actually a bit disorienting especially when you get confused with the sound of rain and the sound of river.

A highlight of the area are the marble baths a winding smooth river area that you can use as water slide. However, drastic results from this activity included raw backs and torn shorts.

Cricket in the rain

I was telling my South African family (Stefanie from Germany, Axel from Germany, and Jenny from Sweden who are all living at my Guesthouse) about what somebody I just met is researching. After describing how this man from Sichuan, who was a transplant to Beijing, was doing doctorate work at the University of Pretoria, I tell them what his concentration is in animal ecology.

"He studies cricket behaviour."
"Huh?" Stef says. "They're aren't any here."
"Of course there is," I counter. "You can hear them at night."
Jenny looks very very confused. And then a light switch comes on and she starts laughing.
"Oh. I thought you meant cricket game."

I did go watch a cricket game last Saturday. It was a test cricket match which means its 5 days long and its on an international level. South Africa versus the West Indies. I don't know what the end score was, it had been raining since Sunday night and it was announced that the result was a tie.

The game is not terribly exciting. Just two wickets the two guy batting run between. Kinda like baseball in the way that one team is on the field and the other at bat until they strike out (10 strikes you're out. pitch is called bowling).

I don't understand the game and I was just sitting there on the grass complaining about this fact. All the spectators are well supplied with local beer they spend hours queuing up for (the line must be almost the same length as the one for the ladies washroom). The South Africans around me were appalled at my ignorance and when I admitted that I was a Canuck, they say admonishingly "But Canada has a cricket team."

"We just send them to play overseas," I explain sheepishly.

They finally admit that most SAfricans don't completely understand the game either (must be the booze doing its work). The funniest thing is that right in the middle of the game, all the players disappear. I asked what the reason was.

"Well," my friend says, exasperated, as if it must be the most apparent thing in the world, "it's tea time."

How smashing. . .

The sound of waves crashing into the rocks, a slight sprinkle of rain beating on your cheeks and the sharp scent of sea salt at your nose. . .and you are at the Indian Ocean. The sea reaches out into nowhere, just beyond the half-sunken shipwreck scene- swimming distance from the jagged boulders on the shore.

I never realised how much I missed the ocean until I got to the coast for the festive holidays. White sandy beaches, sparkling blue warm water and hot sand underfoot- it can only happen in a summer December in South Africa (Australia too, I guess). Surfers were abound, kids were shrieking and playing in the ocean water as if they were in nature’s wave pool. Tanned and lazy, I could barely move from my spot just inches from where the tide ends. It was beach after beach for me, Plettensberg Bay, Brenton-on-sea, Jeffrey’s Bay, Gonubie Beach, Summerstrand. . . jumping into the Indian Ocean was so refreshing.

Welcome 2004

New Year’s was spent partying on Jeffrey’s Bay. Crowd came in hoards, trying to be hip and cool, showing off their best spoilers, purple sports car model pumping testosterone dance music. With mattresses and okes (guys) piled up behind a clunky bakkie (pick-up), my group arrived with enough booze to inebriate an entire herd of elephants. People started moving onto the beach area and gathering with their friends. Some were starting bonfires. A South African girl and I started doing the rounds to random strangers, introducing ourselves as Canadians. (“What does lekker mean?” she asks in a perfect South African accent.)

Later on into the night/morning, we join bonfire groups because it was getting cold. Among half-passed out people. a sliver of light begins to shine and we see the sun rise like a raw egg yolk hovering over the ocean.

What I noticed during my holidays is that I didn’t feel like I was in South Africa. All the bodies burning red from the sun were White to begin with. This is the population that can afford to vacation to resort-like pristine beaches. Only on Christmas Day and New Years day do most Black and Coloured South Africans enjoy the beaches. The general White South African response to this that I heard was disguised fear and they wouldn’t hit the beaches on those two days. “Dangerous” and “hectic” were only two of many other reasons why. “The beach is all Black,” somebody explained to me.

If they didn’t tell me those things I don’t think I would even feel a twinge of intimidation when I ventured out into the streets filled with holiday crowds. Would they be so intimidated if the streets and beaches were filled with White bodies instead?

National Holidays

Other than Christmas Day and New Years Day, South Africa has its own unique National holidays. September 24 is Heritage Day, celebrating the diverse African cultures of the country.

December 16 is Reconciliation Day. On that day many years ago, the Boers (Dutch Voertrekkers colonists) waged a battle against the Zulu people. They prayed to God that if they won the battle, they would dedicate and commemorate the day in God's honour. There was indeed a Boer victory and they originally named the day after the Zulu king who was conquered.

Years later, when the walls of Apartheid came down, a Truth and Reconciliation Council formed under the direction of Archbishop Desmond Tutu. Confessions of those who murdered, tortured and committed other inhumane crimes came out during these sessions. The first day of the sessions fell on December 16, so the name of the holiday became Reconciliation Day, a day of new beginnings, and forgiveness for all South Africans.

There is at least one braai (br-eye)- barbeque- every week cuz it's summer and pools are quite common here in South Africa which is nice. But they don't understand the concept of veggie patties here.

"Why not?"
"Cuz we're South African."
As simple as that- welcome to the meat eating country of South Africa.

Last weekend, I went to a Christmas spit-braai. This naive Canadian soon learned that this means, they have the body of an entire lamb on a spit, turning around being cooked. This process begins at 9 in the morning. We arrive at 3 in the afternoon, it's still turning and half of it is gone. There is a huge wok where they are stir-frying marinated prawns. A friend's family owns a butchery and he supplied the rest of the meat. Chicken drumsticks, boervols (Afrikaans sausages), ribs, pork chops, the works.

By this time I'm feeling a bit woozy just seeing all this raw carcass parts (might be the alcohol as well. . .) My favourite food item at the party is fresh sushi that one of their friends is making on site. I made cookies for the event which throws me to the bottom of the popularity rung in the company of these avid meat eaters. I half-expect the head of the lamb to be displayed somewhere in the huge yard, maybe by the pool on a stake, reminiscent of Lord of the Flies. The conch on this scenario is in the form of any of the rampant booze in coolers, deadly shooters and the like.

People are thrown into the pool avec clothes, and they come out of the house in fresh new clothes every so often. I hide in the shadows uncertain of this cultural experience. "So are spit braais normal?" "You mean you don't have this in Canada? We don't have it all the time but it's common." (I heard about a party where they put an entire cow on the spit).The evening dragged on with people emptying their stomachs into toilets, lying in the middle of someone's bedroom passed out, taking final dunks into the pool with swimming trunks. I feel sick so I leave to sleep.

The next day after lunch, we come back. Most of the same people are still there, some had returned and there is still food on the grill- healthy signs of a weekend long braai. They eat hotdogs and drumsticks. We make Don Pedros- ice-cream milkshakes with Amarula (yummy South African Liquor that tastes like fruity Bailey's). And then we have congee for dinner.

Lot's more SA eating adventures to come in the new year but meanwhile. . .have a safe and happy festive seaon everybody!!!

Pseudo-Xmas is a reality in this part of the hemisphere. Remember how novel it was the first year we decided that it would be cool to have xmas in the summer? That's because I was craving Christmas food between the two Christmases. Funny how we had Christmas lights and presents when it was scorching outside, wasn't it?

Looks like my "dream" came true. Even when I explained this "novel" idea to my Australian friend in Beijing last year, she wasn't impressed. Let me tell about a cultural experience I had yesterday beyond any expectations I had before I left the Northern hemisphere.

My friend who works at the Swiss Embassy SMSes me about a concert taking place at the Botanical Gardens with candles where we can bring a picnic dinner. The concert starts at 7pm and I imagine classical music with formal attire and violins. I'm not a big fan- but hey- it's my first time to the gardens and it's an outdoor summer night festival!

We arrive and already, cars are jammed and parked along the road, onto the grass extending far from the entrance of the gardens. We secure a spot and walk towards the entrance when we start seeing people selling santa hats with gaudy lights that flash glued to the white part of the hat. The hats are not all red, there are blue ones too(!) We pay the R5 entrance fee and walk in. We buy a candle each. "but we have no matches." "don't worry," I assure her, "we can borrow light from neighbours."

The garden is jammed when we start hearing . . . Christmas Carols. It is very disorienting to see all these people (mostly whites) crammed together with their picnics. Some look like they brought their entire house with them, chairs, tables, red wine, all they are missing is the bed. It is a familiy affair and we feel very out of place, scared to even turn to people next to us to borrow light. Everyone has their candles lit and they are in tank tops and shorts. The children's choir is on a stage with bright multi-coloured Christmas lights. We did not expect this and start laughing when the brass plays Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. People in shorts of all things, jingle their keys to Jingle Bells. And some Christmas songs are sung in Afrikaans too!

It definitely does not feel like Christmas here. I apologise- but it seems like a joke or else everybody is celebrating Pseudo-Xmas at the same time. Either one. The malls have the decorations up already. This is too much for a sheltered winter Christmas celebrater. . .

PS. Here is a real sordid/morbid Christmas story set in an American consumerist culture.

It was AIDS days yesterday. Nelson Mandela held an AIDS concert featuring international stars to raise money and awareness including U2 and Beyoncee over the weekend. They were playing movies on TV including a local one which features male prostitutes and the American film Philadelphia.

I never really paid attention to AIDS awareness back at home. Even in China, there wasn't much publicity because the government is trying to hide this reality from the public. Apparently, there are high rates of HIV/AIDS there as well, but the statistics have been undergraound. While I was there last year, a local high school at Haidian, the district I was living, was just introducing a sex education component to the cirriculum.

Here, AIDS awareness is a full-blown campaign, from huge road signs on the high way to catchy advertisements on the radio and TV. I heard a really kitsch radio commercial using rap to try to reach the teenage segment of the population. Huge billboards and television featuring young people stress the choice of abstinence over getting laid. In some washrooms, a box of condoms are available for people to pick up and use.

Education on this issue is prevalent in schools as well. The seven year old daughter of a colleague knows about sex and AIDS. In a country where at least some statistics are known about the virus, pre-adolescents are learning the cold facts in the classroom. Apparently, there are 4.2 million HIV-positive people in South Africa (2000), the highest number in any country in the world.

People in townships know about it and close family members and friends fall victim to the virus. When I was in the Southern Drakensberg in the rural village of Matatiele, a tour guide showed me around the area. He bent down over a small leafy plant and began digging around it with a stick. It's a furry bulbous root called the African potato. He told me that sangomas (traditional healers) use it all the time. It was originally thought to be the cure for AIDS and was in huge demand. But now they have realised that it's good for immunization.

Even the tourism industry has picked up on HIV/AIDS awareness. Some souvenirs such as weaving and beading use the AIDS emblem (red ribbon) as design.

Here is an interesting article about HIV/AIDS in South Africa and the accessibility of treatment to affected people. It's a bit dated (from 2000) and although progress is happening steadily, similar situations are still occuring .

I'm waiting to cross the street.

Vertically opposite from where I'm standing, a group of local boys are waiting to cross. They are all staring at me and whispering. Then they wave with amused grins on their faces. This never happens to anyone back at home. I feel embarassed and want to laugh all at the same time because I am a novelty in this South African set. I give them half a wave and look away.

Then the light changes and we cross, too far away to ever initiate conversation or exchange cultural understanding.

PS. I'm having a bit of China deja vu. There, I was surrounded by Koeans and I felt like I was in Korea. Now, I'm surrounded by Germans and I'm in Germany instead.

Current weather in Pretoria
I want fall! It's too hot. . .

Mbeki visits Canada

Canada to help with medicine to Africa

South African Goliath

Diamond ownership

"The sun rises in the east and sets in the west all over the world," a colleague told me yesterday.

No, I'm not gullible.
Really, I'm not.

WORK 2 PLAY

I WENT TO LIMPOPO PROVINCE A COUPLE WEEKENDS AGO FOR WORK. We went to visit one of the places we recently gave the Fair Trade label to and checked out the scene (R & R with yummy food)! It's a 5.5 bus ride there past Polokwane, arriving at Louis Trichardt. And from there another short drive towards the Albasini Dam to Shiluvari Lodge.

Arriving there in the dark, we saw countless stars and I saw some of them twinkling! Twinkling little stars up above the world so high. . . but the next evening it was a bit overcast and only the Southern Cross was visible. Apparently, those in the Southern Hemisphere can't see the Big and Little Dippers. Rumours have it that the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. Can somebody please confirm this for me? I find it hard to believe.

The next day, I take a walk a little ways along the huge dam and I can hear grunting and breathing from the hippos underwater. There are footprints on the moist sand. I am scared because they tell me hippos are dangerous; they stay underwater during the day and appear at night. A dog that belongs to the owner of the lodge wandered out one night and the hippo bit its body, almost ripping it in half. After intense surgery, the dog is alive.

WHAT KIDS WANT

MANY ARTISTS LIVE IN THIS RURAL VENDA SPEAKING COMMUNITY. There are pottery co-operatives, textile co-operatives and other crafts sold to tourists. The great thing about co-operatives is that even though all the stores look the same and sell the same things (even same displays), you know that they will all get the fair share at the end of the day.

We were at one of the pottery stops and all the kids were hanging around and gawking at us tourists. I take out my camera for a shot of the surrounding areas and then the kids start giggling. I walk towards them not really knowing what to say. (At the previous stop I attempted to talk to a couple girls but they didn't know English).

I tell them I that I am hot and asked them how to say that in Venda and they teach me (I forget already) and I ask them their names. They laugh at my accent as I attempt Venda and then one boy blatantly says to me "Give me money so I can buy chocolate." I say no because I cannot comprehend the logistic of feeding all of Africa chocolate.

They finally point at my camera, wanting me to take their pictures. So I take it, and they want another one. And then these boys fight for me to take their pictures. A few teenager shyly come to ask me as well. I am running out of film so I tell them no. But I feel bad taking all the pictures so I ask them for their address where I can mail them back. I take out my pen. . . they are all around me.

A sea of outstretched hands, desperately reach for my sole pink pen that is almost out of ink.
"Please. I am your friend."
"I need to write my exam."
"I am your friend."
"Give me the pen."
"Please."
They incessantly try to speak over the other young voices and I am at loss for words. Their pleas are almost demanding as I stand there motionless. I was told about this happening in other African countries but I never suspected this in South Africa.

Somebody points behind me. The bakkie (truck/4x4) I came on is starting its engine. I blindly shove the pen into a child's hand and take off. The emotions are overwhelming.

"There are children who are worse off," my co-worker told me the next day. "At least these ones have food and roofs over their heads."

I tried not to imagine others who do not.

Like a vegetable-lover’s dream come true, blackened asparagus-like plants push out from rough dusty rocks on the dry South African terrain. Short stubby cacti and ones boasting fluffy pink blossoms stick out like stray hairs among other patches of rocks.

Rustling bushes ahead reveal a shy graceful impala that abruptly leaps away with five companions. Squawks from a group of guinea fowls alert others that humans are nearby and they take flight, pumping speckled white spots on black wings, red crown on shrunken blue heads.

As the narrow road turns a soft bend, a clump of brown and black body mass is nestled on dry grass. It’s half of a zebra carcass, bones protruding; gnawed skin is pulled back on broken ribs. A few meters away is a solitary thigh bone and another couple meters more lies its skull with buck teeth grinning blindly.

Upon a rock face, a large clearing is visible: hectares of grasslands with sparse trees. On the right, a small herd of kudus and two impalas dart from their hiding place extending slim hind legs as they disperse in different directions. Movement from further up turns out to be a small group of zebras and a family of giraffes, the young ones racing closing behind. A black wildebeest, looking more like a small buffalo from afar, follows several antelopes to gather under a tree in the middle of the massive land area.

They’re all staring back at us.

Hard to imagine that we are less than a kilometre from a large freeway and zooming cars. The sky is overcast, the wind actually making the usually hot spring weather chilly, and we, clad in jackets and fleece, are hiking a short trail in Groenkloof nature reserve in Pretoria. Being used to hike for free in trails from our respective countries (Canada, Germany and Switzerland), we are shocked to learn that we had to fork out R15 each to walk the trails. We now realize why. Some walking trails go through the same space the animals play and leave droppings. Being so close to wildlife is exhilarating and intimidating at the same time.

We ask a reserve worker if there are elephants and lions in the reserve after we hear an ominous unidentifiable rustle from bushes ahead of us on a trail. He confirms there were none and that it was safe to walk the trails.

Experiencing the wildlife reserves in a car is different altogether. We went out of the car to change drivers in Pilanesburg and were caught by a reserve warden who warned us never to do it again. We’ve also heard of stories where elephants open their ears up in anger and chased a car. Lookout areas where visitors can get out of the car to enter another caged enclosed area have signs cautioning people to get out of their cars at their own risk.

A Walk in the Cradle

Couple of weeks ago, we went hiking on a trail that was part of a lodge in an area called the Cradle of Humankind. The dusty red trail (free for us to use after we ask permission to trample on their property) leads up to a hill that overlooked farmland resembling prairie lands in Canada. We are also able to see impala and boks before we started our ascent.

The Cradle of Humankind, over a hundred kilometres from downtown Pretoria, is where civilization is rumoured to have begun. Arid heat radiating from the hot earth is unbearable after a couple hour car ride. Minutes later, we are enjoying cool air within damp cave walls several feet underground. The dead cave is Sterkfontein Cave where the most complete 4.1 million year old skeleton was found. This is also where Ms. Ples, another famous African skeleton was revealed under careful archaeological digging.

A book called Out of Eden: The Peopling of the World was featured on a radio show in SAfm about people who have migrated from ancestral Africa to other continents and what compelled them to do so. I haven’t read it yet, but it sounds similar to Germs, Guns and Steel.

There are 12 million ways to categorize people.

It’s important to know which category you fit into so you can use the correct toilets, sit on the correct bench, and live in the correct areas in your city. Or else you can expect to be punished by authorities.

The Apartheid museum uses grim photos, video footages and stories to illustrate how the Blacks and Whites lived during the time leading up to the new government in 1994 with Mandela’s release. With a card that tells you that you must enter the building using either the Blacks Only entrance or the Whites Only entrance, we walked back into a sad period of South African history. Miss South Africa had always been white. Townships were a way to segregate people. Whites were not allowed into Black areas, Blacks were not allowed into White areas. Blacks needed documentation to travel and even move from area to area. There were curfews for Blacks. Freedom fighters were incarcerated, tortured and hung for saying or doing anything deviant from Apartheid laws. Suicides were common in prison cells.

So what makes you coloured, Asian or Black? There are ways to find out which rung you belong to in society. Tests like sticking a pen through your hair and seeing if it falls off easily gives quantitative proof of what you are.

But even as a university graduate, I don’t understand all this. How can people treat other people in such a way during Apartheid? How did they even think of such creative ways to exclude people, take power away from people and have the right to do as they please? At the same time, there are so many models out there to follow such as the German Nazis, the Canadian’s mistreatment of the First Nations, and Australian way of mistreating the Aborigines. In each case, I realize that it must be easy to continue with the system if you are White. You have the privilege of going to the all the fancy resorts, live in the best section of town, earn a good salary and know that “the other” are inferior to you.

Observing the Social Experiment

Seeing South Africa today, not even a decade away from the time of human violation, gives me a feeling that I’m living time backwards. I’ve never known a life leaden with such discrimination. I haven’t been to many parts of the country yet but it’s interesting to observe people in my own neighbourhood. Hatfield, the student area has a disproportionate representation of Whites. Walk into Hatfield Square where there is drinking, music, dancing and drunken fun and you’d have to really work yourself into a mess to pick out Blacks, Asians or “Coloureds” sitting among the partyers. The university should be well represented and Whites make up a percentage of only 10% in South Africa.

Some Afrikaaners (of Dutch descent- also known as the Boers who came to claim SA in the late 1600s) are still very exclusive. Call an office in Pretoria and you may hear Afrikaans in the phone until you tell them that you cannot understand. For some people, Afrikaans is their first language and they are less comfortable using English.

Race relations and awareness is heightened here. People talk openly about Affirmative Action (AA) and Previously Disadvantaged Individuals (PDI). Ayanda asked me if we had PDIs in my office and I had to ask him what he meant. Pointing an index finger hard against his cheek, he said openly: “I mean- people who have Black skin.” I was shocked. Such strong and blatant language! Politically correct Canadians ought to be appalled. But are we so much different? Maybe we are just hiding under a blanket of denial that people treat others differently because of appearances.

But ignorance is still somewhat unbelievable to somebody who came from a more cosmopolitan city in an immigrant country. Just walking down the street when you’ve got an Asian face can get you remarks about China, martial arts and questions about language. More Blacks call out comments to by-passers but both Blacks and Whites have questioned me about how to say certain things in Chinese. Speaking to somebody for a long time in a Canadian accent does not give you immunity from being questioned if you are from China or Korea.

Guessing Games

How fun can the guessing game be if it’s full of stereotypes?

I walk into a restaurant with Tanya and Christiana. I’ve been talking on my mobile for a while and the waiter asks where we are from. “Guess.” Tanya says.

“I don’t know about your two, but I have an idea of where SHE’s from,” he says pointing at me knowingly.

“Oh, really? Where am I from?” This might be fun, I thought to myself, maybe he would say the US because of the North American accent

“Korea or something,” he says finally.

“Wow, you’re right.”

I’m not amused.

Driving on the left side of the road, a pillow of copper dust trailing behind, I shift slowly from second to third gear using my left hand, keeping the steady speed of 40 clicks an hour. Dangerous manouver? For a tame Canadian it may be, but not for a driver scoping out the nature parks. . .

Going on a Road Trip

Last weekend, three interns (Tanya: Ontario, Christiane: Germany) bumble their way into a web of confusing roads twisting past mismarked signs that never correspond to the ones on road maps. Highway numbers that sprout from the side of the roads lead to unachieved destinations. And as they drive around in helpless circles, the kilometres of the rented car continue to increase- they will have to pay an extra R1.56 per kilometres. After the flurry of blind navigation, they reach the Promised Land: Sun City.

City of the Rising Sun?

The name itself raises goose pimples. Is this where the mountains part when the majestic sun sets to reveal a black starlit backdrop? Negative. Sun City is the name of South Africa’s very own Las Vegas. Walking in- the dim room with flashing lights blasting from the slot machines and clanking sounds of money and gambling contraptions – and you’d think that you’ve arrived in Nevada.

This billion plus dollar resort is huge: the complex, with its own wave/splashdown Park, hotels which includes the 5 star Palace of the Lost City looks like a gigantic theme park. The guide confided that the owner got all his invested back in a year (gambling was illegal in SA for a while)! The artificial elephant carvings aspiring to look African (in- of all places – Africa!) make a potential Las Vegas attraction: “Lost in South Africa”. This conglomerate reeking of profit is situated in one of the poorest regions of the country. I couldn’t wait to leave this Indiana Jonesesque land of debauchery.

Reserved for tourists

But than again, our main point of interest is Pilanesburg Nature Reserve, just over 2 hours away from Pretoria. Waking up in a decently furnished lodge in Rustenburg at 4:15am, we start our way towards the park gates that opens at 6am. More like a Where’s Waldo adventure, we roll the car along, squinting into the distance for anything that moves, armed with binoculars and cheap cameras. The terrain of golden wheat harvest resembles a rustic prairie scene on one side of the road, while on the other side is the seedier dark brown earth with rugged bare bushes leading up to hills. The rolling mountain range is sprinkled with silhouettes of trees outlined against the early sky. The animals graze early in the morning and when the sun begins to set to beat the heat.

We are fortunate to get close glimpses of the herbivore wildlife snacking on tree leaves. Clay-like elephants pull roots and leafy vegetation; quirky giraffes chomp on leaves from the tree tops, zebras punks snort at each other. I pinch myself to make sure that I’m not living some Nature Channel fantasy! We also see wildebeests, waterbucks, impalas, and kudus. The hectares of the reserve land span across a variety of terrain including water holes, drier desert and dams. Through binoculars we see lazy hippos napping, baboons hopping around and birds of all shapes. Zebras and elephants just cross the dirt path like moose or deer do back at home!

Funny how we quickly adjust to the more ubiquitous animals. As the day wears on and the heat drains us of curiosity, we pass by elephants as if they were lampposts in a suburban neighbourhood at night. “Oh, its another zebra. You don’t want another photo of that, do you?” We drive past without another glance.

Towards the end of the day, the skies darken, rain starts to pour and the animals go into hiding. But suddenly, the sky lights up with flashes of lightening tearing the dark sky apart. It’s too bad we don’t see a lion this time but I’m hoping next time I go to a reserve I will see them and the rest of the Big 5 (Lions, buffalos, leopard, rhinos and elephants).

ps. I've been here for exactly one month now!

Getting Around

It’s night and music is pumping from student hangouts all along Burnette St. (the main strip in Hatfield). The dated pop music reminds me of high school days, not that it stops drunk head pumpers from the University. Cars are crammed tightly up to the curb: BMWs, Beetles, 4x4, an odd SmartCar and Mini Austins. My own ride?: sturdy legs bent L-shaped from being at a 9-5 desk job.

They told me that public transit is impossible in this city and I’m starting to agree. Double-decker buses run only till 6pm when it starts getting dark. Otherwise, you’ve got Kombi taxis- minivans that honk incessantly to pedestrians and other cars alike to attain passengers. You need to give the secret hand signal: a slight bend of the hand towards the direction you want to go. If you don’t know the routes, watch out!

I never knew we had it so good with the Canadian public transportation that runs till 2 in the morning. As a female, it’s not recommended that you walk alone after dark. So if you want to get around after 6(!), you’ve gotta get a list of metered taxi drivers in your little black book. If you use them a lot, you might be able to bargain for better deals.

The Rough Embassy Life

Being new arrivals, Tanya and I are trying to find a network of friends, so we’ve been hot on the trail of ex-pats in our vicinity. We’ve crashed the monthly Canadian pub night at the Embassy. The first time we visited them, we discovered that they are not very welcoming peeps. (They have an operating budget that only allows them to hold one event a month. But wait! They actually have a Canadian newspaper in their waiting area! A dog-eared Ottawa Citizen dated June 2003. . .hmmm.)

The participants that night were mostly middle-aged government workers absorbed in their “work” conversations. We tried our own hand at networking/schmoozing and managed to meet the chairman of South Africa’s branch of Daimler-Chrysler who went to Mandela’s birthday party. Other attending guests included the Clintons, Naomi Campbell and current/past Miss Africas. Fidel also made an appearance via video.

We went to the Australian Embassy’s WEEKLY pub night and bumped into a couple we met at the Canadian pub (he’s from California and she’s Swiss working at her embassy). They also showed up at the TWICE-WEEKLY pub nite at the Brit Embassy. (And no, contrary to most people’s popular belief, I did not attempt to pretend I was from Cambridge). I’ve decided that this whole Embassy Circuit is more like a Carni’s life than one of an intern. Luckily we met a group of interns who were playing “football” at the British Embassy. But they are all German (I promise I’ll try to mail one to Korea) except for one Swiss. Their internships only last for two months.

The embassies and High Commissions are all in the Hatfield area and remind me of the fancy Ambassador houses in Sandy Hills by the park in Ottawa. The American Embassy is huge and is right by the Australian and British ones.

Ironless Chef

Still kitchenless, I’m living like a backpacker who eats her dinners by can opener and unsliced bread. I’m beginning to understand the logic of the beans and bread/toast mentally that Brits have. Thank goodness for couscous and raw veggies. Hopefully, this arrangement is temporary because I’m planning to move to a place with a kitchen (and eat worse imitation Chinese food???)

My other option is to eat out. This option is fat-inducing and unkind to my wallet (although I must say it’s relatively cheaper than eating out in Vancity). Disappointingly, there is no Indian, Japanese or Greek food in Hatfield. There are a couple Chinese restaurants. I went to one and it was passable- extremely greasy. But I guess that makes it the more authentic Chinese experience (like the ones in Beijing).

Shopping for a more vegetarian alternative is difficult too. No soy ingredients at the local supermarket means no tofu. I found out recently that the Chinese restaurant I went to sell it by the block. When you go out to eat and want to choose vegetarian, the only options are either tomato & cheese or spinach & feta. And yes, initially I thought spinach and feta go wonderfully together but now I’m not sure if I’ll ever order that when I get home.

For further updates on the food chronicles South Africa, stay tuned. . .

Happy Spring!

We had the first day of spring last Friday and temperatures have already reached 29c last weekend. I’m starting to accept the fact that it’ll only get hotter as we near February. Everything here seems to work in reverse, which I first found when I attempted to take over my supervisor’s driver side of the car when she picked me up at the Johannesburg airport! But I keep forgetting to observe the toilet when I flush it here. I promise to give a full-length detailed report with annotated bibliography when I witness the phenomenon.

Security Issues

Something I noticed living here is the fear of security problems. I hear about hijacks that happen and muggings, break ins, etc. The fear manifests as bars on windows and heavy gates with barbed wires on top of fences. My office has a gate in front of its door. People in bright yellow vests parade around the streets are security guards. There are two doors in banks. The first one opens and then closes when you walk in. The second door will not open unless the first door is completely shut and you push a button to open it.

Hollies!

It was Heritage Day yesterday (Sept. 24) in South Africa, the equivalent of Canada day and I would think that in Pretoria - being the capital of the country- everybody would be running around with SA flags around their necks and war paint of the SA colours. Most locals here engage in the exciting activity of staying at home to watch all the festivities on TV! We went to attend a free concert by the Union government building and watched a local group called Mafikizolo. Other live music we’ve heard so far consisted of a badly remixed version of “Ice ice baby” at a local pub in Hatfield! I look forward to many future South African musical adventures.

Don't know much about politics. . .(or geography)

I’m having amazing conversations with locals here. Their history and socio-political situation is such an integrative aspect of their lives that they know so much about their own country than most Canadians do in Canada. Their history is rich and full of struggles, triumphs and losses. Despite the sad history, I am inspired by its many freedom fighters that fought to bring South African to its present post-apartheid state. It's not the epitome of equality now but there has been much progress along the windy road. The biographies are touching and I’m learning so much. I want to learn about the first nation’s struggle in our own country and continent. I’ve been told that the apartheid state was influenced by how Canadians treated their own indigenous peoples.

Currently I’m reading a biography of Steve Biko by Donald Woods. The movie Cry Freedom is about his life.

My friend Ayanda who lives in the same guesthouse as me is Zulu and he’s from Durban on the south east of SA. In Pretoria, there are more people who are Tswana. More Zulus live in Jo-burg and in Kwa-Zulu Natal (where Durban is). I didn’t know much about African geography but I’m starting to get a grasp of this the longer I stay here and learn about it.

During Apartheid, different Native African groups were segregated to different parts of the country. These areas were named "homelands" although many of its people had never even visited those parts before. Some of the languages are much more similar to each other than Afrikaans is to English. (Africaans was developed by the Dutch when they first colonized the country. Even though there is a blend of German, English, African and Malay in the language, it is still a predominantly White colonial language.) But, the Afrikaaners and English speakers were not displaced.

Language

I am slowly learning South African lingo. Many people speak African languages and Afrikaans around us which we try to decipher and perhaps when I come back I will be fluent in the nine official South African languages.

A lekker site to visit: http://www.wavescape.co.za/bot_bar/surfrikan/slang.html

Happy Autumn to those in the North!!!