Category Archives: Africa

Chilling in Kande – Southern Lake Malawi

31 Tuesday Mar 2015

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View from my room on Lake Malawi in Kande

View from my room on Lake Malawi in Kande

We have spent the last 3 nights in a resort campground called Kande, and I decided to treat myself by upgrading to a room. I chose a non-ensuite room that was directly on the beach, with a balcony overlooking the azure water and just steps from the long white sandy beach. At $29 it was a steal of a price for beachfront accommodation.

Lake Malawi is the most bio diverse lakes in the world and contain hundreds of species of cyclid fish. At 28 degrees year round, it also makes for very pleasant swimming and diving conditions, no need for a wetsuit.

On our first evening in the camp, after we’d settled into our accommodation we enjoyed a meal of bangers and mash and someone suggested a dancing game involving a giant square divided into smaller squares that one had to dance in, not allowing your feet to step outside your respective box. Somehow, and inexplicably, this game kickstarted one of the best nights of drink fuelled fun our group has had yet. Within a short amount of time, we were blaring music from the truck, lip syncing songs from the truck’s “stage”, pole dancing on one of the campground support structures, and dancing/laughing all together.

It was a revelation.

My own balcony on the beach

My own balcony on the beach

Unfortunately, another truck of Germans clearly did not appreciate our effusive joy at this social breakthrough that we were having. Some difficult exchanges occurred when several drunker members of our group decided that they should invite that group over to join us, much to their amazement and incredulity. Once things had started to die down, I did approach them again and offered my sincere apologies for the noise and offering the explanation that this was honestly, the first time our group had connected this way, which they seemed to only half-believe.

I went diving for the first time in freshwater the next day and rather strangely, in the afternoon, after hearing that for the lake, the visibility tended to improve later in the day. The rest of the group decided to attend the killing of a pig that we were going to roast for our costume party themed hog roast that evening. I couldn’t understand why people would want to go watch a pig being slaughtered, but then again, I have to ask myself why then I eat meat if I’m so uncomfortable with the killing of an animal.

Diving in the freshwater was certainly a different experience and the buoyancy was rather different, weights not even being required. Unfortunately, the visibility on this particular day was very weak, only about 5 meters total. The murkiness of the water did add a certain enjoyable dimension to the dive, a certain eeriness, but of course, I would take crystal clear water over that any day of the week. Certainly the fish population was rather unique and plentiful and there were some interesting rock formations that we could dive through, under and around that made for an interesting dive time.

The cabins at Kande Resort

The cabins at Kande Resort

We swam over to the rocky atoll after our dive and climbed up to a rock about 7 meters above the water and took a jump into the water below. It certainly was one of the higher jumps I’ve taken in my life, enough of a drop to really feel the free fall in your gut. Good fun.

We enjoyed an incredible meal of the fresh pork together with potato salad and coleslaw. It was rather delicious, and after dinner we presented the costume that we had purchased to our secret member of the group (we bought costumes for each other in a secret santa style.) It was hilarious and of course, most of the guys received a woman’s outfit of skimpy mini skirt and revealing tops. Unfortunately, most of the women had guys buying their outfit for them and most of us received frumpy, sack-like creations which were totally unflattering. Mine didn’t even have buttons on the front blouse section, so I decided to rock my red bra in an attempt to make the outfit work.

Fancy Dress Hog Roast Party

Fancy Dress Hog Roast Party

Overall, the night was a lot of fun, and we danced until about 1am. A few of the younger members of our group hooked up with members of the Aussie truck and hopefully, no new people were created that night. Not that we’d ever find out – nothing more than first names having been exchanged in addition to bodily fluids.

Today being our last day here in Kande, I took the day to catch up on writing the blog thankfully borrowing a Surface from Benoit (it has been excellent, and makes me want to buy one when I get back to the States), swimming in the lake, reading and taking a very long nap. It has been lovely and re-humanizing.

Tomorrow we drive to Lilongwe.

 

 

Lake Malawi – A Day in Livingstonia

29 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by in Africa, Malawi

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Overlooking Lake Malawi hiking towards Livingstonia

Overlooking Lake Malawi hiking towards Livingstonia

After three very early mornings, it was not my natural inclination to embark on a hike the first morning in Malawi at 6am. But after the initial blurry eyed pain of awaking to the dawn, and walking out of the campsite, I was immediately washed over with gratitude for my decision to go. We would be leaving the lakeshore and heading up into the hills to the settlement of Livingstonia – named after David Livingstone by a subsequent doctor and Christian missionary by the name of Robert Laws towards the end of the 19th century. Unlike Tanzania, about 80% of the population is Christian, and it’s hard to believe that this is only the case because of the western missionaries who devoted their entire lives to living through the physical hardships of 19th century Africa to spread the word of Christ. Livingstone, and the explorer Stanley who later journeyed to this continent to find him when he went missing, are very much part of the lore of the places we’ve visited thus far – and if any of you, dear readers, can recommend a book that I might acquire that would give me a good readable account of their lives and work, I’d be most appreciative as I find myself now really wanting to know more about them and the context of what they did.

Livingstonia today is a thriving community of about 4000 inhabitants and it still has the church, and hospital established by Dr Laws as well as two technical colleges for the surrounding villages and towns. The Muzungu, or white person, is not an uncommon sight in this area (still lots of western volunteer health workers and missionaries) and thus the locals that we came into contact with showed no signs of surprise or judgment when we engaged them.

My body was super stiff and sore from the long days of travel and soon I was revitalized by the effort and physical challenge of a steep climb through tropical forest, an ever changing view of the lake below us. Our guide’s name was Dickson, and during the course of what turned into a 13 hour hike, I got to know him quite well. Well, at least as well as his somewhat limited English could communicate.

Setting out through Chitimba village at 6am

Setting out through Chitimba village at 6am

Dickson was 27 years old and raised his two younger siblings from the age of 12 when both of his parents died from cerebral malaria. He told me that he chose to work to support his brother and sister and help pay for their school fees and that once they graduated, he wanted to go learn how to be a mechanic. It turns out that he was doing a favor for a friend of his who typically guided this tour who found himself hung over this morning after too much beer the night before. As such, Dickson was woefully under prepared for a day of physical exertion in the heat. He had already walked 4kms from his home when he picked us up from our campsite at 6am, and wasn’t carrying any water, food, or money for the day. I got really worried for him, but he continued to refuse any of the water that I had drunk on our ascent which took four hours of climbing along switchbacks in a muggy forest before emerging into the village of Livingstonia, which thankfully had ample tree-lined streets for shade. I had already finished my two litres when we got to the church, and thank goodness I had my Steripen, as we were able to refill all of our bottles at a public tap and treat it there and then (Sandrine and Benoit were the only other two from our group who decided to do this day trip with me) I insisted on sharing snacks with Dickson all day and then bought him lunch from some locals that were having a Sunday picnic outside the church after service.

Hours later, finally having broken down and acquiescing to share my water thirstily for our descent, Dickson admitted that he had been thirsty on the ascent, but that he didn’t want to deprive us of our supplies, and also that he was too poor to buy a bottle that he could re-use for his job as a guide. Getting only ½ of what we paid for the trip, he stood to earn $4.50 for his very long day (I ended up giving him a 5 dollar tip, though I was later plagued with guilt that even this wasn’t enough, and was tortured with the knowledge of what a true impact 20 dollars would have in his life – and very little in mine) If true, this information breaks my heart and I took his address at the end of the day and promised I would mail him some reusable plastic bottles – making him promise me that he wouldn’t lead this trip again without ample hydration.

At the start of our hike, 15kms one way to Livingstonia!

At the start of our hike, 15kms one way to Livingstonia!

Apart from enjoying the society of our sweet natured, if inadequately prepared guide, we were lucky enough to interact with a number of locals during our visit of Livingstonia.   It was Sunday, so all the villagers were dressed in their Sunday best as they attended church. Though we couldn’t understand the service, the three of us went into mass for a half hour or so, and I thoroughly enjoyed the congregation’s energy and the incredibly harmonious singing was emotive and powerful. Our joy was somewhat muted when the Parish deacon came over to us and insisted we pay him 500 quatcha for the privilege of entering the church. That was a first – being charged money to attend mass??

We got to sit in the grass under the shade of a giant tree and eat a picnic lunch with our hands together with the parishioners who sold us barbecued chicken, sima (a rice like starch made from corn) and beans. A few of the kids played with us and let us take their photographs – their smiles lighting up their faces as they giggled with us.

After lunch, we visited the museum which used to be the residence of the founder of Livingstonia, Dr Robert Laws. It housed some interesting exhibits that detailed what life had been like here in the early days of the Christian ministry – battling malaria, tribal warfare, anti-colonial uprising and the efforts made by those missionaries to inform the world and put an end to the atrocities of the slave trade that was being ran by the Portuguese through Mozambique, supplying Africans to the middle east. Incidentally, almost all of those unfortunate male slaves that were sent to Oman and other areas in that region were castrated before making the voyage – which is why there is only a small remaining population of these Africans’ descendants in the middle east, as opposed to the vast communities that developed in the Americas.

The Church at Livingstonia

The Church at Livingstonia

The one story on display that really touched me was when civil anti-colonial unrest broke out in Malawi in 1959, and concerned for the European missionaries lives, the English sent an airplane that dropped a canister containing an offer of a rescue should they be in fear of their lives. They were to construct the letter V if they wanted to be rescued or the letter I if they were ok, the letters needing to be big enough that they would be visible to the plane that would fly overhead the next day. After discussing it, the white missionaries decided they would stay the course, but wanting to convey the message that blacks and whites could co-exist in harmony during those turbulent times, they spelled out a biblical verse above the letter I, finishing it just as the plane showed up. The verse was Ephesians 4:2 and the bricks they used have since been whitewashed and are still preserved for visitors like us to see when they visit.

Since it was getting late in the afternoon, the three of us decided that we should take some form of transport to get back, otherwise we’d be facing a roughly 28 km or 18 mile day and we’d not get back to the campsite before dark. Dickson arranged with a local truck to pick us up outside the waterfall in an hour or so, giving them his cell phone number to call when they were ready to depart. We proceeded to have a leisurely swim at the waterfall named Macheme falls – which were unique in that we swam in a pool that had formed BEFORE the falls plunge some 300 feet, such that it took the appearance of an infinity pool that if you swam too close to the edge, you might get caught up in the flow and fall to your death.

At the top of the waterfall, a 300 foot drop behind us!

At the top of the waterfall, a 300 foot drop behind us!

We stayed well away from the edge.

To our dismay, when we walked back to the road to start our descent, thinking the truck would eventually show up and give us our ride, Dickson told us that they had probably called his phone during a 5 minute block of time when his phone didn’t have reception and they had already left without us. It was already 3pm and we were facing a 3 to 4 hour hike down, which ended up taking even longer because Sandrine had a bad knee and had to descend the switchbacks with a great deal of care.

It was a long long day – and we ended up walking into the campsite around 7:30pm, blistered and filthy – but my heart was full of joy. I’d had the kind of day that I’d imagined I’d have when I was planning this trip to Africa – it contained all the elements of travel that I find so richly rewarding – beautiful scenery, physical challenge, meaningful interaction with locals, history of the area, and a moral impression of gratitude for all that I have that will stay with me for a long time to come.

I collapsed in my tent that night, spent, but happy. It had been the best day of the trip thus far.

Onward to Malawi – From Dar to Chitimba

27 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by in Africa, Malawi

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Driving towards Malawi

Driving towards Malawi

I last left you on my return journey from Zanzibar. Getting back to the campsite in Dar was a little arduous, leaving at 5am taking a bus, then immigration control, then a ferry, then immigration control (bear in mind Zanzibar is the same country, Tanzania, as Dar), a 15 minute walk in steaming heat carrying our bags, another short ferry with so many people one felt like chickens packed into a crate, and finally a tuktuk ride in torrential rain. Having the afternoon to rest before our next 2 very early starts was quite welcome and passed almost entirely without incident – unless you count a guy called Moses who plonked himself next to me on the beach and professed his love for me and asked me to marry him and take him to America within his first three sentences. When I laughed and ignored his advances he literally begged me “just talk to me for five minutes, ok?” – to which I suggested that in the future, he might wanna open with the latter of his two propositions.

Riding on the "Beach" area in front of the truck

Riding on the “Beach” area in front of the truck

Our journey was taking us to Malawi, and we faced two very long, very hot days on the truck driving, each of them beginning at 4am. Yes, you read that right. That first day was a 14 hour drive and we thankfully spent the night at some altitude at a Farmhouse called Irina near the Malawi border with Tanzania. The farmhouse runs almost entirely on solar power, and was spotlessly clean and a refreshing respite from the road. Their bar was a reed made structure that is lit entirely by candles in the evening, and since it was one of our group’s birthday, we enjoyed homemade brownies and hot chocolate after dinner. I also forced myself to do an hour’s worth of exercise on arrival with another one of the passengers who is a huge crossfit enthusiast. We ran sprints, did pushups, squats, burpees and improvised steps using picnic tables until I was exhausted. I can’t believe how out of shape I’ve become after only two weeks of very limited cardio activity.

Sleeping with a cool breeze was so welcome after all the heat we had endured.

The following day, our drive took us through some beautiful lush green scenery and the landscape became more and more hilly the closer we got to Malawi. As a country, Malawi is about the size of Pennsylvania, but with a population of over 14 million people, it is the 4th most densely populated African country. Average life expectancy is 52 years and more than half of the population is malnourished. GDP is less than 250USD annually per citizen, so I was prepared to see some very impoverished communities during our stay here. Our destination inside Malawi was the lake formed by the Great Rift Valley – Lake Malawi, its size so immense you would swear you were staying by the ocean.

Our campsite in Chitimba

Our campsite in Chitimba

By now, I’d say that I’ve almost completely accepted the loss of my computer and phone and am quite settled (though not yet content) into our group’s day to day routine. There has been some friction between certain members of the group, but for the most part, we are getting along ok. I am left still feeling quite alone and lonely despite being with these people every single day – and I find myself wistfully imagining just how different of an experience I’d be having if Giovanna, Tanya, Jerri, Nolan, or Eve were here with me…or better yet – all five of them! While I am now convinced that I will experience some incredible things during this sojourn of Africa, I am equally convinced that those experiences will not carry the same meaning since they won’t be shared with a friend in arms or even a fellow traveler of my choosing.

Our four lads aged 18 and 19 have formed a very tight-knit group and are rarely without each other for more than a few minutes in any given day – and I find myself glad for them that they have each other, but sad that I can’t enjoy a similar experience. For instance, staying here in Kande on the southern lake, I chose to upgrade my room, but none of the other passengers wanted to share with me, especially since there is only one single woman on my trip and she keeps almost entirely to herself, opening her mouth from time to time only to share her latest set of complaints about how the trip is organized. We are picking up an additional passenger in Lilongwe, so we shall see how that affects the dynamic of the group and whether she might end up being a kindred spirit.

I will end this entry with my latest set of smaller observations about our journey:

  • I have just gone three days without any coffee whatsoever. Due to our early morning departures, we leave without breakfast and then grab cereal alongside the highway, literally, a few hours into our drive. I think I’m in caffeine withdrawal.
  • Pricing for things makes absolutely no sense here. Our 13 hour day hike with a guide in Chitimba cost only 3 USD despite the fact that it’s the same price as a glass of wine and entrance to the museum that we visited for only an hour was 4 USD. Missing our local transport on our descent (story for this will be my next post) we were told that a car could be sent to pick us up saving us from walking for the last 5 kms or so, but that it would cost 80USD. Strange, right?
  • From my observations thus far, the Malawi people are much friendlier than Tanzanians and there’s a far lesser sense of their approaching you for ulterior motives other than wanting to converse.
  • Much like South America, people trying to sell you their crafts and wares from the roadside just need to learn to stop hassling you and incessantly telling you what they have for sale when your own eyes can quite easily discern the same. I swear I might actually buy something from a vendor that just let me browse without assuring me that I’m his bosom friend, that he’ll give me a good price, and insisting I’m his “sister”.
  • I don’t understand travelers who don’t carry a Ziploc bag with hand sanitizer, soap, toilet roll and wet wipes with them at all times. I cannot count each day how many times I pull that item out of my bag and put it away.
  • My hatred of plastic bottles of water and the people that continually buy them instead of investing in a longer term\more sustainable water purification system hasn’t waned one bit, and though Malawi is a lot cleaner than Tanzania – the GLUT of plastic everywhere is staggering. I LOVE my steripen and I don’t understand why every traveler doesn’t have one of these.
  • We have procured the pill which kills the parasite that one can apparently contract from snails in Lake Malawi. They can cause kidney failure and enter your bloodstream through the skin. Lovely. Again though, our guide Tabitha instructed us to purchase the medicine with the same amount of concern or anxiety that she would assign to the purchase of cheddar.

No biggie. This is Africa. Lots of things can kill you here.

Zanzibar – From Stone Town to Disappointment

20 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by in Africa, Tanzania

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Our group spent a total of 5 nights on this “beautiful” tropical island, an hour and a half ferry’s ride from Tanzania’s capital Dar Es Salaam. We stayed in Stone Town, full of remnant Omanian architecture and mosques, for two days, and then headed north to the beaches for the final three.

Unfortunately, my stay was quite tainted by the drama that unfolded on our second evening in Stone Town when I discovered that my room had been robbed, my iPhone 6 and it’s plug and adapter taken, while it had been locked and the key in the care of the front desk personnel.

I had left it charging while we went to dinner at the night market and was only gone for two hours. Ordinarily, I would not have left out such a valuable piece of equipment, but when I borrowed our driver Pete’s laptop earlier in the day, he had told me to just leave the laptop in the room when I was done with it if I couldn’t find him because “we’ve never had an issue here before and we’ve stayed more than ten times”, which gave me a false sense of security.

Buffalo skulls at the market

Buffalo skulls at the market

When I realized it was gone, I was incensed because it was obvious that whoever took it had access to the key – which meant it was most likely a member of staff in the hotel that had just helped themselves to our room and taken what they wanted. They had rifled through my roommate’s bag as well, but hadn’t taken anything. I spent the next few hours in tears while my tour group leader argued with the hotel management in Swahili, the only intelligible thing they could say was to go on and on about how their hotel was honorable and nothing like this had ever happened before – like that was of help to me.

After having lost my laptop to whatever bad luck was befalling me, I was pretty upset that I’d now lost the one piece of technology I had left to stay in touch with loved ones back home, to access skype, and stay in touch with job opportunities as they arose.

This was not good. At all.

I was somehow appeased a little the next day when Dan, our local tour leader in Zanzibar, learned of what happened and went completely ape shit on the hotel management. He pretty much accused them of stealing my property, and as I instructed, suggested that whomever just turned up with the phone would get a $200 finder’s fee from me. It became obvious that this wasn’t going to work when Tabitha explained that an iPhone 6 could carry a $2000 tag price in Africa as they are simply not available still.

Sigh.

Just like Elsa in Frozen, I had to Let it Go.

The event certainly blanketed my first day on the beaches in a dark mood, so at least I had enjoyed my time in Stone Town which consisted primarily of doing a Spice Tour and eating lots of yummy cheap street food in the evenings. We visited a farm run by the local government that grew a wide variety of spices that we got to sniff and taste and wash down with various teas. My favorites were the cardammon pods and the cinnamon bark. Lovely.

climbing a palm tree

climbing a palm tree

We also got a palm-tree climbing demonstration by one of the farm’s crazy workers – who had colorfully been entertaining us with his heated arguments with two of his colleagues over the Champion’s League teams of Arsenal and Barcelona and who had better players. I find it hard to fathom how and why Africans are so obsessed with football, especially English teams – they are almost as passionate as the boys I remember growing up with in Wellingborough.

After the tour, we enjoyed a lovely meal sitting on the floor of our guide Dan’s own home, eating stewed chicken curry, rice, vegetables and red snapper. We also enjoyed a giant platter of some of the best mango I’ve ever tasted to finish the meal.

Stone Town itself, as the rest of “local non-resort” Zanzibar is pretty dirty, full of people, traffic and trash. Having said that, the narrow streets and stone houses were reminiscent of Havana or Panama City. Again, however, as with other places in Tanzania, I didn’t feel safe walking around with my group, let alone by myself. Predominantly muslim, it was also challenging to walk around in the 105 degree heat in long sleeves and pants which the local custom demands for women.

Enjoying lunch at Dan's home after the Spice Tour

Enjoying lunch at Dan’s home after the Spice Tour

After a week in tents, having air conditioned rooms and a bed to sleep in was a treat – you know, if I didn’t think about how the hotel robbed me, also informing me that anything taken from the room is not the hotel’s responsibility. If that’s true – why bother even locking the doors?

Ugh.

The logic of the Tanzanian people is really not intact. I was also informed today during our arduous return journey from the beaches (which we left at 5am this morning) that Dan had attempted to obtain a police report after he took a few officers with him to the hotel to try again to get the truth out of the hotel staff. The police had declined to write the report because “it would create a bad reputation for tourists coming to Zanzibar”. When is there ever a crime that doesn’t negatively depict its environment? Tabitha assures me we should be able to get a police report in Malawi.

We shall have to wait and see…

Overlanding Through Tanzania

18 Wednesday Mar 2015

Posted by in Africa, Tanzania

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The market in Marangu

The market in Marangu

After getting back to our campsite at Snake Park in Arusha, we were all pretty wiped from our three days in the Serengeti and pretty much passed out in our tents early in the evening.  We were facing a few travel days coming up before arriving in Dar Es Salaam for one night prior to our mini-trip of five nights on the island of Zanzibar.

Travel days are quite arduous.  Sitting on the truck for hours at a time, sometimes with very limited or no toilet stops (or having to go on the side of the highway) and limited options for food along the way is a challenge.  The heat has been a difficult adjustment for me – it has been over 100 degrees since we left the slightly cooler foothills of Kilimanjaro.  As has the dust – the efforts to keep skin, clothes, tent, feet, and hands clean is a constantly losing battle.

I’m very grateful that I invested in a Kindle Paperwhite before the trip, and I’ve already finished reading two books.  Otherwise, I find it literally impossible to nap on the truck due to the heat and the noise of 15 individuals talking, playing music etc.

The three travel days were nicely broken up by a morning excursion in the town of Marangu.   A few of us opted to do a small trek to a waterfall and learn a little about the local indigenous tribe – the Chaga.

At the night market in Zanzibar

At the night market in Zanzibar

We found ourselves walking through small farms and houses in this mostly rural village (also the starting point for the most popular route up Kilimanjaro) and getting to observe how the locals live and keep their chickens and cows.  Vegetation was lush and the temperature already searing by mid-morning as we made the steep descent to the refreshing waterfall.  We eagerly got into our bathing suits and had a swim in the glacially fed waters, taking a jaunt upstream with our guide, Thomas, to a natural water spring where we could drink free of the worry of any contaminants.

After walking back up to the village, we were introduced to the history of the Chaga people who came to live here in the Kilimanjaro region of Tanzania more than 700 years ago.  We visited one of their re-created grass huts and saw examples of their weaponry, masonry, pottery, furniture and artwork all masterfully explained to us by an enthusiastic descendant and proprietor of the museum.  Later we descended into a cave that the Chaga people used as a hideout during the war with the invading Masaai who came from the north to take over these lands.  As the Masaai were tall warriors and used jumping when they fought, the caves offered the Chaga people a distinct advantage, and were able to hide from their enemies and kill them more easily if they attempted to enter the cave.

After about a five hour drive, we arrived in Zebra camp where we ate a simple dinner and I took a shower by scooting under a running tap in the dark (the showers and the lights were not functioning – fun!) and went to sleep after setting up our tents, forced to use our rain fly despite the heat because of the high winds.

Overlooking the Ngorongoro Crater

Overlooking the Ngorongoro Crater

The following day involved a very long day of driving into Dar Es Salaam, which to date, might be the most congested, polluted, and scariest looking place I’ve been to.  When we arrived in the urban area, our guide Tabitha (who is Kenyan) told us to lean out of both sides of the truck and keep an active eye out for people who would run up to the truck and try to open one of the doors on the side where we kept our gear and food – in an effort to dissuade them from trying to rob the truck.  Unfortunately, a couple of guys actually ran under the truck as we were stuck sitting in idle traffic and stole the dipstick from the engine.

Crazy, huh?  Apparently such a part is valuable enough that they would risk their lives to take it.

This is not a city where you would wander around, especially by yourself, and even more especially as a woman.

The lovely beach outside of Dar Es Salaam

The lovely beach outside of Dar Es Salaam

Luckily, our night before heading to Zanzibar was spent at a lovely campsite next to the beach on the outskirts of the city center.  I was thrilled when I saw the lovely white sand, swaying palm trees, pool and bar welcoming us from the long, hot, dusty journey.

I jumped into the water well before I set up my tent and it felt amazing.  The ocean was actually like bath water – so warm!  After two rum and cokes (with safe ice!!) I was feeling a little more like myself again.  Though the amount of attention I get as a white woman swimming in a sea full of black men is rather disconcerting.  It is about as opposite of an experience as I could possibly have to doing the same thing in Seattle.  Still, it is flattering to be reminded that I am desirable, even if it is just for being “different”, or being perceived as having money?

In the morning, we took a tuk-tuk (yay!!) to a ferry, walked 15 minutes with our bags wrapped closely to our chests, to the big ferry that we would take to Zanzibar.  We have so far spent one night in Stone Town – so named for its Arabic (Oman) architecture and history.

I will fill you in on Zanzibar in my next post!  Incidentally, I wrote my post on the Serengeti on another person’s computer and they didn’t bring the laptop to Zanzibar – therefore, I will be posting out of sequence 🙂

The Serengeti – Meeting Simba at Pride Rock

17 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by in Africa, Tanzania

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Simba

Simba

Arriving in Africa was a whirlwind of activity and not a great deal of sleep. With an 11 hour time difference as well, it was difficult to get any quality sleep, despite being exhausted. Day 1 involved a long drive in our truck to Snake Park (the name of the campsite outside Arusha) and the very next morning, we were picked up in two safari jeeps for our 3 day/2 night excursion to the Ngorongoro Crater and Serengeti National Park.

That trip was an incredible experience, especially considering the abundance of wildlife that we were able to observe. However, it has set in motion what is at least true up until now – Africa is a series of incredible pleasures that are experienced only with a measure of simultaneous suffering.

Hyenas with carriion

Hyenas with carriion

To paint a picture of the good the bad and the ugly for you: we spent many long hours driving in the jeep over extremely bumpy and rocky terrain. Our guide, Benjamin, explained that it was simply a “free back massage”. Temperatures would soar to well into the high 80s/low 90s during the heat of the day, the air is very dry and we would often bake and sunburn just from sitting in the jeeps themselves. For me, however, the greatest challenge to my enjoyment has been the dust. The sheer volume of dust that envelopes us at all times so far in Tanzania is unlike anything I’ve experienced before. My clothes are literally filthy by the end of the afternoon – I wring black water from them as soon as they are wet. I’ve started just wearing my clothes in the shower and using them as washcloths as a way of cleaning them of the dust. This is by no means the worst, however. The worst thing I have to suffer through is trying to keep my contact lenses clean in this dusty environment. The first two days in the Serengeti, my eyes hurt so bad I could barely see out of them. I would use eye drops every few hours with little relief. Switching from my two week lenses to my ultra thin monthly extended wear pair has helped a little, but it is still a constant battle.

The dust and dirt is making camping that much more challenging as well. On my first night in Arusha, I didn’t use the rain fly because it was so warm and the skies are clear (the rainy season, which was meant to have started two months ago has yet to make an appearance.) However, a dust storm developed in the middle of the night and blew half the campsite dirt onto my tent floor. With my backpack unzipped inside my tent – all the red dust got into my bag and all over my clothes. Having learned my lesson, I now leave my big bag in the truck and only bring a change of clothes into my tent with me at night. It is still a challenge to try and keep anything clean – your feet, your face, your skin, your sleeping bag, your backpack – everything is just caked in dust and dirt.

one of my favorite shots

one of my favorite shots

I am guessing that I will just have to get used to it, and almost every aspect of this trip is an adjustment – from sleeping in a tent every night for 56 days straight, to setting up and taking down camp each day, to cooking for 15 people when its your “cook group’s” turn – to getting to know 15 very different and unique individuals and having to get along as a team, respecting the group dynamic.

With that being said, the 3 day excursion was wonderful. After a very very long drive leaving at the ass raping crack of dawn, we arrived at the lookout over the Ngorongoro Crater – a 300 square kilometer reserve formed by the extinct crater whose walls have naturally formed a barrier to the 42,000 animals that have made it’s floor their permanent home. Looking out over the crater you could see the green/brown expanse’s shape and crater-like structure – but it took on an entirely different meaning from the inside after we descended its steep walls.

Very soon we were watching groups of zebra, Hyena and water buffalo foraging and drinking along the shores of lakes, dramatically set against the expanse of green. However, as we got further into the crater – we were soon witnessing a spectacle of creatures – thousands of them all gathered in the same area of fertile grass around a watering hole – Wilderbeest, zebra, Thomson Gazelle, Hartesbeast, Elephant, Rhino, Hyena, Hippos, buffalos, and other antelopes. It was a spectacle that made you feel that you were literally participating in an episoe of Planet Earth, narrated by David Attenborough.

We were also lucky enough to observe two lion prides during our game drive in the crater, and even more rare – we got to witness a Servel cat stalking it’s prey from a very close distance.

giraffes at sunset

giraffes at sunset

Stunned from the experience, we began our now 3 hour drive to the Serengeti, stopping briefly at the entrance to file paperwork and make our camping arrangements. We would be camping at a bush camp – with no fences and nothing separating us from the wildlife all around. I have to admit this was particularly unnerving, because our tents did not have a zipper that went entirely around the outside door, and one of the members of our group, an experienced Safari guide herself, insisted that a hyena could easily just make it’s way into one of our tents if it thought it smelled juicy inside. Even more disturbing, our guides warned us to be sure and check for signs of “eyes looking back at us in the dark” if we were to leave our tent in the night, or when we went to use the bathroom in the night or early morning. Apparently, a few years back, a lion decided to go into the women’s shower room in search of water.

Probably the highlight of the day was spotting a family of Cheetahs hanging out in the tall grass by a large acacia tree. Mom, dad, and baby cheetah were taking it in turn to roll, stretch, sleep and walk around the base of the tree. Just when we thought nothing much more in the way of activity was going to pass, baby cheetah decided he was going to climb the tree.

According to our guide, Benjamin, Cheetahs do NOT climb trees. He has never seen a cheetah climb a tree, not in his 5 years of being a safari guide.

Baby cheetah got about half way up the tree and then started to meow, almost like a domestic cat, as it struggled to get back down to his parents. It was such a special moment to witness that I immediately teared up and then noticed that my guide was emotional as well, especially since he shared that it is textbook that Cheetahs do NOT climb trees.

We were oh so very lucky to witness such a thing.

Our night at the bush camp thankfully passed without incident, and I found my earplugs to not only be a welcome barrier to the sounds of howling hyenas in the night, but they served to drown out the sounds of snoring campers all around me.

The following morning, with only one missing animal from the ‘Big Five’ to spot – we came upon a leopard snoozing on top of a rock. She was stunningly beautiful. Unfortunately, not so beautiful was a truck full of boozing youngsters who thought it would be approprate to start playing their music on their truck and having a party in the middle of the game drive. Zach, a member of our group asked them to turn it off, rather sternly. They turned it down, to which he remarked, ‘Off. Not down, Asshole!’ – which we all got rather a kick out of.

The Serengeti Wilderbeest migration is not yet in full swing because of the delayed rain, but we still did witness thousands of them galloping alongside their zebra counterparts heading to waterholes in the early morning mist, getting stuck in the mud, and screaming in their dumb fashion to get away. They were quite a sight.

A monkey also decided that he wanted to climb up on the roof of our vehicle and I shrieked with panic as I imagined contracting rabies if the thing got into the cab and started getting defensive. Luckily, the monkey got scared and scampered away.

It was an incredible 3 days. In the end we saw almost every form of wildlife that you could see in those parks – even Hyena scavenging on a recent kill. The only thing we missed was perhaps a rhino doing a full on song and dance show…

Exhausted from our 5am starts, I went to ‘bed’ right after dinner upon our return to Arusha and had myself some super crazy Larium dreams.

For those of you who don’t know – Larium, or Mefloquine is a weekly malaria medication which can affect one’s emotional state and/or dream cycle. That night I dreamt that our safari vehicle drove from Paris, across a glacier, to Cedar Rapids, Iowa and then back to Africa where I was falling down a raging rapid alongside a lion.

Then again, my days had been almost as crazy as those dreams.

Africa: The Journey Begins

16 Monday Mar 2015

Posted by in Africa, Kenya, Tanzania

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And so it begins...Day 1 of the 56 day Nairobi - Cape Town Adventure

And so it begins…Day 1 of the 56 day Nairobi – Cape Town Adventure

I know. My last post was not quite what you were expecting for my first entry on this trip. It was sort of whiny and oddly reminiscent of the first few chapters’ of Eat Pray Love. I do apologize for the wilful complaining about my lot in life. I shall endeavor to keep the mood a little lighter in this entry. Promise.

I landed in Nairobi at around 8:30pm on a Friday night. Nairobi is not a safe place. I’ll be the first to admit that, despite the fact that I’m usually the person spouting about how safe international travel is for single females. So I was a little nervous when I emerged from the temporary terminal building only to find that among the sea of names on signs being vigorously waved by drivers, mine was not among them despite multiple assurances by my tour operator to the contrary.

Eventually, my driver, who goes by the name of Smiley, appeared with a small sign for the camp outside Nairobi where I’d be staying for one night, before embarking on the Oasis Overland 56 day tour down to Cape Town.

I’ve been to Kenya before, back in 1998, about a week after the US Embassy building had been bombed. It hadn’t changed much, but as usual, I did enjoy the wonderful warm breeze that enveloped my being as we walked towards his cab and I imagined the adventure that lay ahead.

My group consists of 13 individuals, a tour guide, and a driver. There are 4 women and 9 males ranging in age from 18 to 46. Spending this much time with such an eclectic group of individuals will be an interesting exercise in and of itself, but my first impression of my travel companions is positive. I already have a sweet affinity for the 18 year old from the U.K who goes by the name of Jerrick. He is so sweet and looks uncannily just like Keira Knightly. I’ve encouraged him to claim her as a sibling as a great pick up line.

So far, all that has transpired has been in the course of journeying out of Kenya and south to the town of Arusha – the gateway to the roof of Africa – Kilimanjaro. At least, that’s all that has happened physically – but here are some firsthand observations of the trip thus far:

– Dust is part of life in East Africa. We have been fighting sand and dust since leaving Nairobi, and here at the campsite in Arusha, I’ve learned the importance of leaving gear in the truck overnight rather than bringing it into the tent. My clothes had a 1/2 inch layer of red dirt by the morning.

– Border crossings are going to be an entertaining experience. Our guide tried to argue my case for a transit visa, since my travels will bring me back to Tanzania to try Kilimanjaro in June. After arguing for over 20 minutes, the manager of the border office finally agreed to the slightly cheaper visa. Unfortunately, he then went on his lunch break and his subordinate swiftly refused to comply with the agreed upon exchange, and charged me an additional $20 which he swiftly put in his pocket rather than in the till.

– Our truck is pretty damn cool. It can seat up to 24, though I am very grateful for a slightly smaller than maximum capacity tour. It has tarp-based windows which can be rolled up, so the whole driving experience is open-air, and the countryside whizzes past us in a very pleasant breeze. People and small children wave to us from their farms and market stands. Masai warriors stroll down village streets carrying their staffs, women balancing baskets on their heads as large as themselves.

The bus also has a sort of napping area in the front part of the cab. I have re-named it the sauna because it is at least 10 degrees hotter up there than on the rest of the truck.

– SInce we have a smaller group, and there are so few females, I get to enjoy my own tent. However, this also means that I’ll be setting it up and taking it down alone. Each tent has it’s own name, and the tent that was handed to me was aptly called “Love”. Unfortunately, love was a little broken. But only in the doorway. The doorway to Love is temporarily blocked.

– Our first campsite has a very cool bar called “Ma’s” and there are t-shirts from every corner of the earth hanging from the ceilings and walls. That first beer I drank after my first jet-lagged day on the truck was an godsend.

We are now heading into the Serengeti and the Ngorongoro Crater for a 3 day safari. I am looking forward to it. We are having a somewhat relaxing morning and I decided to write an entry. Unfortunately, my computer has decided that Day 1 of this trip is an appropriate time to die on me. I sat there turning it on and off, willing the black screen to show any signs of life. Since I am so jet-lagged and have yet to have a full night’s sleep, I’m also pretty emotional and this put me over the edge.

Our driver, Pete, took pity on me and leant me his laptop so that I could write. I am choosing to stay optimistic about my laptop. It will start working again.

Otherwise, i’ll have to think up a range of non-sexual favors that I can emply to borrow other traveler’s laptops during this journey.

Going to Africa – Feeling the Fear and Doing it Anyway

15 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by in Kenya

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First day of Safari in the Serengeti

First day of Safari in the Serengeti

2014 started out in a very promising manner.   By mid-April, I would have said I had almost everything I’d always wanted – A great job where I was appreciated, challenged, earning a decent living and enjoying fantastic colleagues and a boss I admired and respected.  I was in a committed relationship that seemed to have real, long-term potential.  I was singing regularly with my band and learning how to climb in a year-long mountaineering course that I’d started in January.  I was a new homeowner since the prior Thanksgiving and was loving my townhouse and that sense of ownership.  I had great friends and was loving life.

My good-bye dinner at Nue in Capitol Hill

My good-bye dinner at Nue in Capitol Hill

All of that changed abruptly in May .  Life has been a series of tough emotional challenges ever since.  My job and relationship ended.  I travelled to South America for a few months to clear my head.  I caught Dengue Fever and was sick for the better part of a month.  I met someone in Colombia and foolishly started a relationship that ended in the kind of painful and explosive drama that Lifetime movies are written about.  I started a new job at a small firm in October, only to be let go on New Year’s Eve (for unclear reasons, oddly enough – especially to my employer), suffering through three months of one of the most isolating, self-esteem crushing  office cultures of my career.  My father’s twin brother suffered a stroke and died in a prolonged and agonizing way on Christmas Eve.  My adopted “family” in Seattle, The Zimmermans, moved to Florida and I was left to spend the holidays without them.

Yeah. December was particularly rough.

At Check-in at Sea Tac

At Check-in at Sea Tac

And thus, I found myself with long, empty days of job searching nothingness in January of 2015.  A kind of numbness set in.  I tried very hard to establish a sort of routine to keep me sane.  I would try to go to the gym every morning, and then follow it with breakfast and a few hours’ of job searching.  I would then try to make sure I had at least one social contact per day with a friend, or perhaps a date (online dating and job searching are eerily similar in many respects, and it made sense to apply my skill set to both pursuits simultaneously,) or at the very least, go to a coffee shop and work if I had no other social engagements.  Days when I didn’t want to leave the house ended up just compounding the sense of isolation, failure, and ambiguity that my life had become.

In fact, ambiguity seems to be the order of the day at the moment and I’m trying to learn how to embrace it instead of allow it to choke me in it’s paralyzing vice.  Why events have played out the way they have is a source of daily mental vexation.  Wondering and fearing what might lie ahead has had the effect of pulling me closer to those little things that feel safe and comfortable.

Like my couch, for example.  My couch is a five foot square space of safety.  I am drawn to it and it has become increasingly difficult to leave it.  My gym, my car, my local Trader Joe’s – these have all become my emotional crutch that help me cope with the overwhelming  amount of change that I’ve experienced these past nine months.

The inside of our Oasis Overland Tour Truck

The inside of our Oasis Overland Tour Truck

Which is why, after two months’ of job searching, I feel it is time to remove the safety wheels.  Rip off the band aid.  Stir things up again.  I’m becoming too comfortable in my own space – its time to go travel again.  That, along with my belief that it’s going to be too difficult to secure employment in my industry over tax season is the reason I started thinking about going to Africa.

However, my emotional ties to routine, to my couch, to not having things “change” again – have also resulted in horrendous indecision when it comes to trying to make plans for this trip.  Since mid-January, I’ve probably booked and cancelled 4 sets of flights.  I was all set to take this 3 1/2 month odyssey on February 16, only to receive a call about a very promising job interview on the 14th, and I cancelled again.

The truth is, I have had this trip to Africa in the back of my mind for the better part of the last decade.  My plan had been to take a sabbatical in my 40th year (fast approaching) and travel from Cairo to Cape Town.  My logic with my employer a few years’ ago, was that I could take maternity leave, but just not have the baby:-)  They found that amusing, but also workable.  Life is so funny.  I would never have imagined in my early twenties that I wouldn’t be married and with a family of my own by the time I was 40.  The “when will it happen” has morphed into “IF it will happen”.  This trip was going to be my consolation prize.

And so it begins...Day 1 of the 56 day Nairobi - Cape Town Adventure

And so it begins…Day 1 of the 56 day Nairobi – Cape Town Adventure

If I couldn’t have what I want most in life, I’ll take travel.

And so, finding myself yet again glued to my couch, I made the decision last weekend, to make my dream a reality, and put my faith in my long held desire to go to Africa .  Despite the intense fear I felt, I had to believe that I’d be glad I made the choice once I got on the plane.  I thank my friend Jerri who literally made me stay with her through midnight on Saturday so that I wouldn’t go home and cancel my flights again.

I got on that plane on Thursday and now find myself writing this in a bar at a campsite in Arusha, Tanzania.  I am horrendously jet-lagged and still haven’t adjusted my head space to where I am and what I am doing here.

But it’s too late to turn back.

It’s time to turn inwards.  To let go of fear.  To embrace change.  To embrace ambiguity.  Focus on my most important relationship.  The one I have with myself.

I hope you will enjoy the journey with me.

(Incidentally, my laptop decided that after working ok for four years, it was going to stop functioning on my first day of this trip.  I am going to be forced to borrow computers and/or use internet cafes, so the posts will be limited and might not contain photos – sorry!)

Semester at Sea Part X: South Africa

17 Saturday Nov 2001

Posted by in Semester at Sea 2001, South Africa

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From somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean (well, actually 24`58.0` S Latitude and 015`44.8 W Longitude)

It has been too long since my last update, and it is time to fill you in on the happenings of my five days in South Africa. I have very mixed feelings about this port; on the one hand, it filled me with wonder and excitement, and on the other, with horror and dismay. Whilst I have witnessed much poverty and destitution on this voyage so far, never have I observed it to such an extent, isolated and contained only a few minutes’ drive from skyscrapers, polished ‘downtown’ shopping malls and western white affluence in your face. Never have I been forced to acknowledge the complexities and social ramifications of the society that I live in, the commercial and capitalist center of the world. South Africa was definitely a place for somber reflection on my personal blessings….

Anyway, before I get too serious, let me tell you about what I got up to. We steamed into Cape Town after 8 long long days at sea. Traveling around the southerly tip of Africa, we experienced possibly the worst weather to date, with sea reaching 12-19 meters! We were banned from being out on deck, but I still sneaked out to grab some pics. It was necessary to hold on for dear life, the wind was cracking down and the salt was blasting into my eyes making it difficult to see. But what a sight. I’ll never forget it.


Thankfully, the morning we arrived – the sea was calm. I awoke at 4.30am to witness the truly spectacular sight of seeing the sunrise up over Table Mountain. Unfortunately, the mountain had its customary tablecloth of cloud enveloping its peak, but it was a spectacle nonetheless. It was a blessed relief to find the weather somewhat cool – not another intense summer going on. We actually could wear sweaters and long sleeves in the evening. On arrival, I immediately left for a two-day trip to a nature reserve in the Cedarburg Mountains called Kagga Kamma. The drive was over five hours, and the scenery we passed through was breathtaking. Initially, many of the towns that we passed through reminded me somewhat of England, winding streets, green hills, and the signature gray skies. But as we headed into the interior the landscape unfolded into a breathtaking sandstone desert of red mountains, and scrub land, with vast expanses of wilderness as far as the eye could see. Reminding me of North West Colorado, I immediately felt at home! The lodge we stayed at was privately owned, and represented civilization for at least a 200-mile radius. Which translates to middle-of-nowhere essentially. The lodge was surrounded by incredible rock formations of a rainbow of reds, yellows and golds. They are hard to describe, but any of you who have traveled through Western Colorado or Utah will have an idea what it looked like. Our rooms were either little thatched cottages, or actually caves built into the rock itself. It was very unique. What completed the experience for me were the sounds of the place. Nothing. Sheer and blissful silence. I immediately got on my hiking boots and went exploring over the rocks and caves. I saw some beetles the size of mice, and giant crickets of black and orange that could leap about 30 feet. I felt as if I were on another planet. That evening, they served a barbecue dinner in the outdoor restaurant, complete with campfires and music. The ambiance was terrific. We all bundled up with blankets and hot chocolate and sat around the fire for hours, eating and talking and singing a song or two ( well, I was there you know?) Later that night, we had a lecture on the astronomy of the southern skies, and got a chance to view Saturn’s rings from a telescope. At around midnight we left on a 4×4 game drive. Holding a spotlight out over the scrub land, (and freezing to death, wearing every stitch of clothing I had brought with me) we saw some eland antelope, zebra, ostriches and a gerbil! It was fun, but I felt like we were terrorizing the poor creatures that were confused by the shining lights.

The following morning we went on a 4-mile hike up to some ancient cliff dwellings where the San people used to live, and observed some San paintings. I was extremely reluctant to leave on the five-hour journey back to Cape Town, but the stop at the winery made the trip. I think I ‘tasted’ over eight glasses and was well and truly sloshed getting back on the bus, so needless to say, I entertained the rest of the less intoxicated all the way back. They must have been ready to shoot me (as most of you know, I’m readily shootable at the best of times, let alone when I’m inebriated.)

Back at the ship, I had the advantage of hearing all of the stories from other students who had already been exploring the past two days. Some of them had gone cage diving to get close to some Great White Sharks! One of them told me they’d even been lucky enough to view a right whale swim right under their boat and then breach the water, not 10 feet away. I wish I could have seen that. Unfortunately, there is only ever so much time in each of these ports, and each begs a return visit to sample the deeper experience. The following day, I booked a tour of the Cape of Good Hope, and Cape Point – which is popularly held to be the best place to view the crashing waves of the meeting Indian and Atlantic oceans. The drive was surreal, past these fields upon fields of blooming purple and yellow flowers, fishing villages, with sweeping bays and tiny inlets of crystal blue water. Cape Point itself was really a mountain with an enormous drop to the sea below. Before Cape Agulhas was discovered to be further south, this was the tip of Africa. I hiked up to the top and barely escaped with my life, for I felt sure I would launch off the cliffs in the hurricane force winds. Later we drove to Boulders Beach, home to a colony of penguins. I tell you, I could have spent a whole day with those funny funny birds, in fact, I think it should be widely published and taught that penguin therapy be the new wonder cure for depression. You can’t help but giggle till it hurts watching these creatures waddle around, squawk literally like donkeys, and play with each other.

That night I went to the Theatre to see a play written and performed by Greg Coetzee about the South African male psyche. It was titled Breasts. I really didn’t go in with any expectations, but I laughed so long and so loud, that I think I developed three new sets of eye wrinkles. One of my favorite lines was during a monologue where the character is talking to his dead mothers’ grave, about a hippie girl who had just left him, ‘Save the whales, shoot a hippie!’ – I know, you really had to be there to get a little context. Anyway, the performance was so compelling that I returned the following evening.

The following day I took it upon myself to climb the treacherous Table Mountain. At about 4000 ft, it was quite a climb. I went along with the assistant academic dean, so at least I can tell you that the conversation was never dull….! We started along the Skeleton Gorge trail, which began in the Kirstenbosch botanical gardens. We were quite happy at first, as the gradient was only moderate, until we turned a corner, to face a series of near-vertical ladders that we had to overcome. That was different, and somewhat scary, but we made it. Or at least we thought. When we reached the ‘top’, with glorious views over the coastline, we were told by several burly officers of the South African army, who laughed when we asked if we were on the summit. ‘Oh, no, mate – that’s about another five kilometers – just keep going, you should make it by 3pm…” Anyway, on we trudged, and whilst it really was beautiful up there, we really were not prepared with provisions for such a long hike. By the time we were about an hour from the cable car we were driving each other crazy talking about sipping a tall glass of coke with ice in it, and chewing on a juicy steak sandwich. When we arrived at the cable car station, we were ravenous and treated ourselves to a sumptuous meal. We took the cable car down as we were barely able to stand up. It was a great day, which was improved in greatness ten-fold when I discovered that they served trifle at the theatre that night before the play. I was a very happy bunny.

My last day in South Africa was much more serious. I took a tour, which went out to visit three black and colored townships on the outskirts of the city. The whole notion of going to visit where people are living in squalor, as a tourist, was very uncomfortable to begin with. I started asking myself what I was doing there, and what would I speak about with these people? My apprehension was not appeased when we stepped off of the coach to the sight of a lady seated at a table covered with blood, calmly chopping the last few shreds of wool off of decapitated sheep’s heads. We were taken to view a housing community where families of six shared a single twin bed, and each room had five beds. The stench was strong, and there were many young children running around without clothes or shoes. Many students were taking photos, but I couldn’t justify it, except when some of the kids indicated they really wanted me to take their picture. Many many women there were pregnant – it was the first time that fact had caught my attention to such an extent. South Africa in general has a 24% incidence of HIV, but we were told it could reach as high as 50% in these black living communities. We were then taken to a community college, which impressed me with the level of hope displayed by the students. Most of them were learning trade skills such as weaving, pottery or bricklaying. And they all sang while they worked. The music and quality of their voices were very moving, and I quickly purchased some items for sale, as I thought the project was extremely worthy in its ability to provide an economy for the community. I spoke with one of the lecturers, who immediately asked if he could come and visit me in the States. I was taken aback, but offered him my email address should he wish to correspond.

The last township, Crossroads, was more like a shantytown. Homes were built from bits of cardboard or corrugated tin and iron. I spoke with several people who mostly expressed an increased sense of satisfaction with their circumstances, (as compared to the residents of the 1st community) mostly derived from the fact that their homes were their own (they purchased them), and that ownership at least afforded them some privacy. Most of them were fully aware of the cycle of poverty they were living in, one woman I spoke with in her mid-sixties, was the sole income-earner for her family of 11, including children, their partners and their children. She explained how, someone has to earn enough money in order for them to be able to send their children to school (to pay for transport was the main issue – education is free to minimum level), in order that they possibly might learn English, or some other skill, which might increase their chances of finding employment some day. Even so, among the skilled, unemployment was roughly 80%. And despite the official end to Apartheid, the whites still control the labor market, and the opportunities for blacks are simply not there – with work consisting of minimum wage manual labor of some form.

I am still processing my feelings from that day. I do know, however, that if I were living in South Africa, I would struggle with my feelings surrounding my life of comfort, just a few miles from people who were experiencing a struggle every day for survival. I think it will also make me stop and think more about the problems of poverty in the US. I think I’ve been very blind to it. Many people spoke about the possibility of enormous outbreaks of violence, if Nelson Mandela should die. I could certainly believe this to be possible, if more measures are not taken immediately to move towards a more balanced social structure.

So I should end this letter soon. I apologize again for its length, but I hope you found it interesting. We shall be arriving in Salvador, Brazil in a few days. I can’t believe there are only 24 days left of this voyage, the time has flown past. I am excited about coming home, but also feel extreme trepidation as I know the country I left, will not be the same country I return to.

Yesterday we held the Semester at Sea Olympic Games. They were a lot of fun, and you could really feel a great community spirit on board. I had the honor of singing the Olympic anthem before the awards ceremony in front of the whole ship. I sang a song called “World in Union” based on a classical piece of music by Holst and adapted for song by the South African group “Ladysmith Black Mambazo.” I highly recommend their music.

So long for now. I will write again from Brazil.