Roadtrippin' Southern Africa pt. 2

Mozambique is the strangest place I have ever visited: strangely beautiful but totally outrageous in regard to tourism. I have a new meaning of the term personal safety since my return. Crossing the border took twice as long as it did in Swaziland because we needed a visa for entry. My english was no longer of use to me because the official language is Portuguese. Thank God Diana is mexican because we were able to get by on her spanish

. Once we crossed made it in Moz, we had an idea of where we were going, but there were no street signs. We drove through the mountains, listening to the same CDs we had been for the last several hours. We arrived in the city of Maputo and drove on roads such as Karl Marx Ave and Vladimir Lenin Dr. After getting lost a couple of times on the horribly paved roads, we made it to our backpackers' place. We exchanged money and got dinner at Niko's place. Niko came to our table during our meal and suggested we spend Easter weekend with his friends on their private boat. They would take us to a couple of Islands and let us drink and play in the water. I couldn't decide which was better: laying on a boat cocktail in hand or squeezing my body through tiny cave holes in Swaziland...

We sat outside, drinking and playing cards late into the evening. Caroline and Louise spent the entire next day with food poisoning so Pat, Diana and I explored downtown Maputo. The city is nothing like Chicago, St. Louis, and nothing like Cape Town. Men in all different kinds of uniforms roamed the streets with AK 47s. Vendors were aggressive and there was nothing I could do to hide my skin to even try to blend in and not look like an American. We were all a little on edge because of several warnings my friends had given us. We found our way to an old amusement park where we ate lunch. Afterward we bought tickets for ourselves and a group of young boys to ride the bumper cars and swirly shells. We had just as much fun as our little friends did. 

We then went to the market and Pat went to find us a nearby Church for Easter mass. Pat didn't return for quite some time, and when he did he told us of how he had just talked his 

way out of getting arrested. The police gave him a hard time about not having his passport on him and told him he would have to spend the next two nights in prison. He tried to reason with the heavily armed men and they robbed him, but let him go. We took an open-air taxi back to our hostel after purchasing even more things we, mainly I, don't need. Of course the taxi broke down on the road and I saw myself about to get robbed for the third time. It started back up and we went back to check on our friends. We had dinner and drinks at a famous seafood restaurant and because we were told not to go out alone at night, we stayed in. 

The next day was Easter and we all got up at 6AM to go to mass. The tide was low and there were several groups of people in the ocean baptizing one another (see little specs in photo). This was really cool to see, and I wanted to walk out there and get a closer look, but that would have just been inappropriate/awkward. We arrived at Church to find it locked up: we tried to figure out a way in but the people outside shooting us death glares told us Church was closed that day: Easter. Church was closed on Easter.

We met up with Niko's friends at the dock and headed toward Inhaca Island. Only 7:30 AM, Louise suggested it wasn't too early for gin & tonics. We had the entire boat to ourselves and laid on the front of the boat, listening to music, reading books, journaling and catching warm rays of the African sun. We made a stop to a deserted island called Portuguese Island. No one lived there, there were no buildings, boats, trash, nothing. It was just a big pile of sand and

 trees. We docked and swam around, playing with starfish and splashing around. We then went to Inhaca Island, home to 6,000 residents for the rest of the day. We had lunch and explored the large island, hitting up the market and beach. We saw caught the most beautiful sunset, which was the perfect ending to our day and our adventure. 

But that was too perfect to be real. After docking, we got in our car, headed back to the hostel when a group of policemen spotted us. Damnit. The blocked the road with their car and came up to our car. We were calm and had our seat belts fastened. When we didn't understand him, the cop said, "You don't want to speak portuguese?" Diana rolled down her window from the back and tried to talk to him in spanish. He wasn't really having that either. Long story short we got robbed again but didn't have to go to jail. 

Once we crossed the South African border the next day we were overjoyed and relieved. Though it was stressful and at times a bit unsafe, traveling in Mozambique was an awesome experience. I'd say it was one of those been there, done that, not necessarily on my list of places to return, kind of places, but what excitement. 

NOTE: after emails from concerned friends, I want to clarify about the boat. Niko's friend runs a business taking out people on his boat and he cut us half price...we didn't jut hop on a stranger's boat...rest easily.

Roadtrippin' Southern Africa

Traveling new places is a wonderful sort of experience on its own, but there is something else to say about renting a car and backpacking African countries.

 Five of us decided to spend the second half of our vacation as adventurous backpackers roadtripping across Southern Africa: three countries in ten days seemed doable to us. We picked up our rental car at the Jo’burg airport and headed east to the country of Swaziland: one of the only kingdoms left on earth, and also the country with the highest AIDS rate in the entire world. We were a little nervous about driving, considering it is on the other side of the road, the car and gears being totally reversed. It only took about 45 minutes before we got pulled over by the South African police for switching lanes, but really driving the wrong way down what was the freeway, somewhere along it had switched back to a two-way road. The cops screamed and told us we were “ALL GOING TO DIE!” After a long lecture, they insisted on taking us to the police station but we bribed our way out of that, down 1,000 R by 7:30 AM. 

We took the scenic, and sometimes unpaved, route to Mbabane, the capital of Swaziland. Miles of mountains and not a developed neighborhood in sight, we passed hundreds of people walking along the road, and we stopped for the occasional herd of cows or goats bloc

king the road. We only got lost a few times before reaching the border, which was jam packed with people pushing through one another, eager to cross. Realizing we were getting nowhere in line, I grabbed all five of our passports and made my way to the customs window. We were ecstatic, and I think Pat was so proud he drove us all the way, which is probably why he accidentally hit an immigration officer with the car. Luckily, the guy was fine and just laughed at us. On the way back to the car from the office, (in the most cheesy way) we exchanged high fives and told each other just how excited we were: I threw my long arms in the air, right into the rusty barbed wire I somehow missed, maybe an hour after telling everyone the Tetanus immunization was the only one I forgot to get before coming to Africa...We checked into our hostel and explored for a little. Because the water levels were low, we 

opted to go caving instead of white water rafting. This is where we went wrong. A few weeks prior to departure, I let them convince me to sign up for caving, even though I am extremely claustrophobic. I remembered my friends going caving while abroad last year so I asked them what they thought, but they assured me I'd be fine. Wrong.So we meet up with our man, Sipo, and he drives us to a mountain. It turned out we had to climb a mountain before we reached the cave: great. It was a hot, but beautiful climb as the sun set over the mountains. There was nothing there but plant life, the animals, and us. As we got closer to the cave and Sipo prepped us on what to expect. My heart started to race, attributed to physical exercise and nervousness. All that was running through my head was: "What the hell am I doing?" and "I'm actually paying to put myself through this?" as well as an array of obscenities. We reached the cave and crawled in: I'm fine, I thought. Sipo asked how  claustrophobic I was but I said I'd be fine. Wrong. That was before I saw the first squeeze. Oh hell no. Long story short, I freaked so Sipo told me to wait for the group outside the cave. I was so panicked and I ran as fast as  I could out of the cave. Tears streaming down my face and my heart pounding I ran so far before coming to my senses and realizing one very important thing: I was lost. 

The sun was setting and I was still panicking. Then I stopped and laughed: "What is the use in panicking? No one is here to help me..." So there I was, wondering around the middle of Swaziland trying to find that one rock, or that one tree, before the sun was completely set. I'd cry and then laugh and then thought about how I'd rather die: in a cave 1,000 feet under with my friends or alone in the wild. I'd rather take my chances with the animals. I eventually found my way back to the rock outside the cave and decided to sit there for the next two hours. It was completely dark now and hundreds of bats flew out of the cave, hitting me in the head as they passed. I saw trees move in the distance but told myself it must have just been a cow or something...

I was ecstatic to see my friends again and was so proud of them. Sure I was too scared this time, but jumping out of a plane and diving with great whites were pretty cool, too. Beside, I sort of had my own little adventure. Afterward Sipo took us for pizza and beer, which I did not pass on. We then went to the hot spring which was packed with Swazi folks. We played keep away (boys vs. girls, my team ruled) in the hot spring under the starry African sky. Life is so good to me in Africa. After saying bye to our new Swazi friends, we had a few drinks and went to bed. The next day I blew too much money at the women's market (it's so hard to say no to them!!) and we departed for Maputo, Mozambique...where we spend the next three days. They were exciting and new and terrifying all at the same time...

Soweto, "Ghetto Paradise"

Surrounded by Bob Marley posters and Rastafarian flags, we arrived at our hostel in Soweto, the largest township in South Africa outside of Johannesburg. The temperature was high and so was Edward, the Rasta man playing guitar in the backyard. We arrived at Lebo’s Soweto Backpackers and were greeted by a sign that read: “Welcome to Soweto, Ghetto Paradise.” The girls occupied the entirety of Lebo’s while the boys stayed at another backpacker’s down the street, across from Nelson Mandela’s and Bishop Desmond Tutu’s houses. Completely worn out from traveling back to Johannesburg all day, the girls relaxed around the hostel: playing cards, reading books and playing music with the Rasta man. Our backyard looked like Roots, one of our favorite reggae clubs in Cape Town: completely covered in sand, fully stocked bar, Rastafarian décor, a fire and plenty of sitting space. There was also a cornucopia of African instruments to choose from.A few of us sat with Edward and jammed. We jammed as the sunset and the temperature dropped. We jammed for the next six hours, only stopping to refresh our drinks and to move by the fire. The boys came back all showered to a group of giggly girls going wild on drums, shakers, guitars and a plastic horn. Lull, Diana and I attempted to rap total nonsense. We rapped about everyone in our program: making cheap shots and poking fun, sparing no one. Edward loved this. We rapped, sang and jammed all night long. I think we all needed this time to have fun and unwind after the previous adventurous days.The next day we went on a four-hour bike ride through Soweto: we met the locals and danced with the children. SOME of us ate from a cow’s head; once I stared into the eyes of that bloody thing, I had to walk away. Because Soweto is the site of the 1976 uprisings against apartheid we heard stories of resistance and defiance, of strength and community. Our guide was an incredible storyteller and I learned more from her than I did during my entire history class.

When we returned home, there was a playground full of children awaiting our arrival. We played in the park for the rest of the evening. I hadn’t showered in days and was exhausted but it didn’t even phase me. We sang and danced with them, took them for rides on the bikes, played soccer and ran around with them. When I was relaxing in the grass, a boy came to me, laid with me and held onto my arm. We didn’t exchange words for the next hour; he just held onto me, petting my arm. I shared my water with him and we remained still as the others played. Later, a girl did the same thing to me. These kids just wanted to be shown affection: they weren’t pushy or hyper. I laid with them and really thought about this. After I bid them farewell I laid in my bed and cried a little. I can’t offer any explanation other than that I was caught completely off guard by these kids, and I felt emotionally overwhelmed.
The night ended with a group dinner and a shabeen (bar) crawl through the township. My favorite part of traveling is the people I meet along the way. Before going to bed I went out back and sat by the fire with Edward. We talked about life and music, and he gave me a lesson in philosophy. I said goodbye to him and he smiled through his coke-bottle glasses and lightly pounding his chest he said, “Much love and respect, mah sis-tah. Always.”

Mother Nature's finest

After leaving camp, our safari drivers drove us all around Mpumalanga to view some of the most beautiful landscaping in all of South Africa. We went to God’s Window, Lisbon Falls, and the Blyde River canyon, the largest green canyon in the world. I only wish the photographs I’ve captured and my attempt at writing did even just the smallest bit of justice to the beauty of these places. 
Of course I got carsick, projectile vomiting at our first site, while the others whipped out their cameras with excitement. This wasn’t the first time I was caught on film vomiting during one of our excursions.
Feeling much better, I took the opportunity to walk around and explore Mother Nature’s finest. At the start of the canyon we climbed all over, and because this is Africa, there are no safety regulations: just a warning from the drivers to not be stupid and get ourselves killed. The waterfalls were deep and the rocks were slippery and of course, Suzy fell in, lucky only to get a few scrapes and bruises, losing her shoes. 
Though I can’t recall the Afrikaans names for the rivers, the happy and sad rivers form the canyon. And there’s a story behind their names, but I’ve got a lot to write.

The end of the canyon is truly breathtaking. I haven’t yet been to the Grand Canyon, but I imagine this one to be like just like it, except completely green and blue everywhere. The purest water running through, and plant life all around. I could have sat there the rest of the day. We split up and explored the area, climbing to the tips of large rocks, dangling our legs over the canyon, inches from falling to our deaths. Like I said, there were no fences, no safety regulations. As Leonardo DiCaprio put it the movie Blood Diamond: T-I-A: This is Africa.

The Lion King in Real Life

So I can now say I've experienced real African wildlife on safari in Kruger National Park. This safari is one of the most exciting things I have done to date. Slipping away from my friends to journal, I found myself in total awe of my surroundings: miles upon miles (the size of Israel) of bush with wild animals, the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets with no need of a water for a backdrop, countless stars visible as we camped miles away from any city. We woke up at 4:00 AM to get begin the game drives each day, splitting up into small groups with safari guides. My group lucked out with Helmo as our guide, only the coolest and most knowledgeable of all the guides. My poor writing skills cannot begin to do justice to this experience. We saw lions, cheetahs and leopards, herds of elephants playing in the water, hippos and rhinos, all sorts of birds...we saw a leopard jump in a tree, kill a monkey and drag it across the road to devour. We spotted crocodiles and crazy-looking bugs. Hundreds of impalas roamed freely, before becoming dinner for a number of carnivorous creatures. Giraffes are cute, but rather boring to watch. I am leaving so much detail out of this post as I hope to not bore you, but I really just wish to convey to you how incredible it is to observe thousands of wild animals in their natural habitats. 

Hearing via walkie talkie that GURNEYS (lions) were spotted laying in the road, Helmo pushed down his windshield, grabbed his emergency whip and instructed us to hold onto our hats. Speeding toward the site, the sun shining and the wind blowing my hair all about, all I could think was "This is so ***** cool!!!" (for a lack of more intelligent wording, it's th

e truth) I remind myself daily how lucky I am to be here, but it is exciting moments like these when I can't believe what I'm doing and how I got here. We spend nine hours each day observing animals and enjoying each other's company, having lunch and drinks as a large group...this is when each group would brag to another of the day's sightings (we always won). 

Among the top things I saw:

-the leopard kill and devour that poor little monkey

-lions, lions, and lions after they killed something (too bloody and smeared to identify)

-warthogs at our outdoor luncheon

-baby animals of any kind, especially giraffes, zebras and elephants

-elephant herds traveling, stopping to play in water and mud

-CHEETAHS (an endangered species, our guide was shocked to see them)

-a butterfly drinking out of my champagne glass for a solid three-four minutes

-monkeys doing all sorts of funny things

In the evenings we ate dinner together and swam in the cold springs.

 I couldn't stay up late drinking with the rest of the group because I was simply in shock of everything I had seen during the days. I walked around the camp, one night spotting three elephants that had come right up to our camp. I wrote in my journal and sorted through the

 constellations I remembered learning in my high school astronomy course. I wanted to soak in as much of this as I could, as I thought surely I'd never have this opportunity again. 

 

Things Fall Apart...

is one of my favorite books. And like many things, people, too, also fall apart. I did earlier this week, becoming violently ill about an hour after landing in Cape Town from my mid-semester break travels across southern Africa. The last couple of weeks have been quite adventurous (to make an understatement) and I could write for hours on end about the things I have seen, have experienced. Now Thursday evening, I have been confined (still sick) to my bedroom for three days, and have come up with what I want to write about my trip. So I'll just throw out several posts about each trip within the trip: the safari in Kruger Park, biking in the township of Soweto, driving and backpacking through the countries of Swaziland and Mozambique. So brace yourself for some exciting (edited/watered down for my parents' sakes, they worry) tales from this side of the world. 

Concerning my health: I fell sick Monday evening, waking up by terrifying hallucinations. I spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, seemingly clearing my entire insides of everything but my organs, which I swore I'd lose by the morning. I have gone this far without feeling homesick, but during those hours I wished myself back to Chicago, to St. Louis. I wanted to be with my friends, and really with my mom. I didn't feel twenty-one, and if I did, I still felt it okay to want nothing more than to be with my mom. Being sick has that effect on me. The next day my friends

drove me to the physician and had to practically carry me in. I was treated with two shots and two prescriptions (South African wonder drugs, I swear). I also tested negative for malaria; the areas I traveled through are malaria areas. I also broke my pinky toe getting out of bed. You'd be surprised how much it hurts to break such a little toe. Days later, the hallucinations and vomiting have ceased. I am still weak and in a little bit of pain but am feeling much better, thanks to my friends here. They have taken such great care of me and made me feel okay about missing home. I spent a lot of my internet credits making international calls all week so I want to thank everyone back home for your comforting messages and emails. It made a world of difference, so thank you thank you. 

All of that aside, here comes the cornucopia of posts detailing my latest adventures. 

See you later, See you soon

I'm sorry I haven't written in a bit: I pulled two all-nighters this week to (thankfully) finish up my history class and have been practicing for an upcoming trumpet jury I have, where I play in front of a bunch of professors and have them criticize me (yay).

During my absence from the blogging world, I have been on an African music binge. I definitely urge you to check out some Swahili and east African music, particularly Taarab music - totally unreal. I have also become unhealthily obsessed (if possible) with South African choral music. Seriously, you have to youtube some of this; I guarantee you will be brought to tears. I was.

I've been exploring South African music because I am working on research for my capstone to complete my music degree at Loyola. I am focusing on music during apartheid from township music to the National Party's censorship to western influence to songs of defiance, of oppression and struggle....oh I could go on. This weekend is the Cape Town Jazz Festival and I am about to leave for 11 days to go on a Safari and other adventures in a couple of other African nations. Details to follow upon arrival back in the cape.

Hugh Masekela is headlining the jazz festival, which I will miss the final day of. Masekela is someone I have looked up to as a trumpet player for many years and he is an important part of South African history, being voluntarily exiled during apartheid. In my opinion, he is one of the best jazz artists in the world, and I encourage you to check him out if you are unfamiliar with his music. I've included a link to a CNN interview with him. Anyway, I guess it just isn't in the stars for us to meet tomorrow, but perhaps maybe one day I'll get to see him.

I'm signing off and will be back April 15, so until then I wish you well.