Southern Africa
Wednesday, August 4, 2004
African deluge
By Eric
Speaking of Biblical overtones, it's raining really, really hard here. Even as I write this, Jill is building a canoe into which we'll load all of Africa's animals, two by two.
We arrived in Cape Town yesterday in a jet-lag induced daze. We're thrilled to finally be in Africa, which is in some ways the crux of our trip. But the weather, unfortunately, is not cooperating. So far, my limited impression of Cape Town is that it's a lot like... uh, the West Coast. It has a distinct Seattle-Portland-San Francisco feel. But more on this later when I can actually see something beyond the gray envelope of rain and clouds.
One (unrelated) note to cat-lovers: I highly recommend the short fable by Rudyard Kipling, "The Cat That Walked By Himself." You can find it in his collection called Just So Stories. Clearly, Kipling was not just a cat owner, but also a cat knower.
Friday, August 6, 2004
Rand-Pinchers
By Jill
I've finally discovered why the backpacker circuit is so strong in third world and relatively tame in the rest of the world: PRICE. To say that we're suffering from sticker shock would be an understatement and, in comparison, I feel sort of silly about complaining about the price of Singapore.
Also after six weeks in SE Asia, I'm afraid I had begun to believe that I really was a king, that I deserved luxury accommodations and four gourmet meals a day. I assure you, South Africa has firmly shaken me back to reality. An example: we're paying $47/night for a hostel room with no bathroom and, more painfully since it's winter here, no heat. (Forty-seven dollars would have kept us afloat for 2 days in Indonesia.) Needless-to-say, we're struggling right now with how to fit all the amazing things that Southern Africa has to offer into our budget. Our current plan is to sleep and eat cheap and pay for experiences. That means tonight we'll eat salads huddled under the blankets in our bedroom, but tomorrow we'll go on a fantastic winery tour.
Cost aside, Cape Town has turned out to be a very intriguing place. Eric and I finally decided that the best analogy to America cities is this: San Francisco meets Tacoma, with a dash of Newark, NJ for seasoning. It has a decidedly West Coast feel, but it's rough around the edges and has some great colonial architecture. Walking around during the day, you might catch yourself wondering if you were in the United States--except for the fact that they insist on driving on the wrong side of the road.
One aspect that is definitely not like the US, or at least not the US I interact with on a daily basis, is the role that crime plays in everyday life. While our hostel informs us it is perfectly fine to walk downtown during the day, they claim it's "pure madness" at night and instruct everyone to take taxis--even four or five blocks. We've seen the place in the day and it seems like a yuppie neighbourhood to us. Does it really turn into "madness" at night? Or are the warnings paranoia based on racism and a few bad incidents? We're inclined to think the latter, but neither of us really want to test our hypothesis. Sadly, the inability to walk at night has created an entirely car-dependent city, which makes it a more expensive and less fun place to visit. Eric and I were both reminded of the writing of Jane Jacobs, who argued that consistent foot traffic is a powerful way to decrease crime and increase social stability. I don't think taxi traffic has the same effect.
Monday, August 9, 2004
Very quick note
By Eric
Just a quick note to let everyone know we're still alive and well. We're leaving Cape Town today on our safari into Namibia and Botswana. Our posts will be somewhat less frequent for the next 2.5 weeks as we'll have only sporadic access to the Web.
We've enjoyed Cape Town, which has been a whirlwind. We visited Robben Island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned, visited the wineries nearby where Jill got boozy, and spent yesterday at the Cape of Good Hope where the Indian and Atlantic Oceans meet. We rented a car and, for the first time in my life, I drove on the left/wrong side of the road. And it was without incident, if you don't count that one offending trash can.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
The safari so far
By Eric
We're on the west coast of Namibia (we normally spend August on the west coast of Namibia). If you look us up in an atlas, Namibia is directly north of South Africa. You may notice that your atlas depicts very few bodies of water. That's because there is no water here. The word Namibia is derived from an indigenous word meaning "gravel plain"; and the country is so dry and barren in places that I've decided to re-introduce into my lexicon a word that I'd conciously discarded: wasteland.
Of course, it's not really a wasteland in an ecological sense. It just looks that way. We've spotted several species of antelope and under cover of darkness Jill and I even spotted jackals prowling through our last campsite. We also took a walk with a native Bushman guide who brought the desert alive in a way I wouldn't have imagined possible. We ate succulent plants and tiny tubers that grow in sand dunes; he showed us a trap door spider (inducing it to scurry up and shut its door); and he explained how the Bushmen thrived in a landscape that I don't think I'd last a summer afternoon in.
Namibia also has some starkly beautiful places, unlike anything I've every seen before--towering red sand dunes stretching for hundreds of miles, alluvial plains, five million year old canyons, and even the occasional tree. I suppose I shouldn't complain about the absence of water here as our sole experience with water in Namibia was "nicht so gut," as they say in this former German colony.
A few days back we canoed the Orange River, which marks the border between South Africa and Namibia. In the first set of rapids, Jill and I managed to dump our canoe and pin it on two boulders. We both took quite a bruising in the fall and came darn close to getting trapped under the boat. Jill floated free and even managed to grab both paddles on her unpleasant trip down the remainder of the rapids. I got my "footing" behind the overturned canoe, where I held together our gear, and tried unsuccessfully to dislodge the boat.
After being rescued by our two guides, I thought my pride had been bruised worse than our bodies. But actually our bodies are worse off. Thankfully both bodies and pride heal with time. Miraculously, and despite a little dampness, our gear survived in fair condition. So there was no harm done. And just as soon as I can move my right arm, I'll drink to our good fortune.
Where have all the tropical birds gone?
By Jill
I have a question for all the naturalists, biologists, and generally smart people reading our post: Why did we see virtually no birds during our six weeks in SE Asia, but we’ve seen hundreds in just two weeks in Southern Africa?
Eric and I were amazed at the dearth of birds—especially waterfowl—in SE Asia. We’d pass an estuary where at home you’d expect to see at least a hundred birds; we’d see maybe one. Snorkeling we’d see literally thousands of fish just below the surface but no seabirds, not even gulls, which are ubiquitous in the north. Have birds not discovered that life is really cushy in the tropics? House cats certainly have.
I know that many birds do live in SE Asia; SE Asia is said to have some of the highest bird diversity anywhere in the world. I just don’t know where that bird diversity is hiding. By contrast, Africa has turned out to be a delightful place for amateur, but committed, birders like myself.
At present, I’ve had confirmed sightings of 60 different species, many of which are endemic to this region. Highlights include: Jackass Penguins (due to the obviously bad publicity, they recently changed their name to “African Penguins”), Ostrich, African Purple Swamphen, Sacred Ibis, Greater Flamingo, Lesser Flamingo, and Sociable Weavers.
I’ve set a goal to see 100 bird species during our time in Africa, but our safari guide, Mike, informs me that I’ve set the bar far too low. I should try for 200, he says. As a point of reference, I’ve only seen about 125 North American bird species, but spotting new species in southern Africa is like shooting fish in a barrel. (Okay, I’ll confess that it really helps to have a knowledgeable guide, a good bird book, and loads of free time.)
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Reporting live from the Angola border
By Jill
Greetings again from Namibia. This time we're in the far north along the Kavango River. Our campsite looks over the river into Angola. Eric and I thought about swimming over there, but then decided against it. I have managed to spot quite a few new birds--probably Angola residents--on the river though.
I'm sure you were all waiting with bated breath to hear the outcome of my birding quest. Yes, I've made it to 100 bird species. I'm at 107 right now to be exact. This is thanks in large part to a very patient group and a guide who is a bit of a bird nut. My 100th bird was the swallow-tailed bee-eater, quite a good centenial bird actually. I encourage you to look it up on the internet. I'd find a picture for you, but we're a bit pressed for time.
Speaking of pressed for time, we apologize for the limited updates from the safari road. Internet has been far more scarce than we'd imagined. You'll all just have to wait five more days for a thorough update.
For now, a quick summary. We spent three glorious days in Etosha National Park where we saw African animals by the dozens. Highlights include: herds of 20-40 elephant frolicking at a waterhole; a show-down between a black rhino and elephant; another waterhole with eight different species; and a pride of ten lions heading out at dusk on a hunting expedition. The absolute highlight for me was the spotting of the honey badger, an animal that bears a striking resemblence to my cat--in demeanor, at least. Even lions are known to go out of their way to avoid a honey badger. Vicious.
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Eden
By Eric
Our safari ended yesterday once we arrived here in Livingstone, Zambia beside Victoria Falls. Just as the Bushmen of the Kalahari cannot communicate without clicking noises that can't be rendered in type, I cannot communicate without the sound of gnashing teeth and howling that can't be typed the inefficiency of the ferry and border crossing between Botswana and Zambia. So you'll just have to imagine for yourself.
As we've moved farther north into Africa, the place has come to resemble more and more what I imagined Africa was like. That is to say, it does not closely resemble Ballard. We've been having an immensely good time here and have really fallen in love with the place--the landscapes, the people, the wildlife.
In particular, the wildlife has far exceed even our wildest expectations. On our final evening of the safari we took a river boat through Chobe National Park in Botswana. The abundance was simply overwhelming. There were vast herds of buffalo, dozens and dozens of hippos splashing in the water, crocodiles basking in the waning sun, hundreds of elephants marching on the horizon, baboons, monitor lizards, and antelopes of many stripes. Even several species of rare and endangered birds seemed to be everywhere. To top it all off, as the sun set over the river, a full moon was rising above the savannah.
We still have two weeks in Africa, though it's not nearly as much time as we wish we had.
A lesson
By Eric
There's a lesson that Jill and I have been slowly--and I mean slowly--learning. The best way to express it, I think, is captured by Matthew chapter 6, verses 25-34. Here it is in the New International Version translation:
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?
And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Monday, August 30, 2004
Larger than Life
By Jill
In her recent email, my sister, Lara, asked me if our time in Africa was a better experience than SE Asia, or just different. I didn’t really know how to answer her because I’m not sure I’ve fully processed our time in Asia, and I know I haven’t processed our time here in Africa.
The phrase “larger than life” seems the best way to describe the Africa we’ve seen so far. Everything is big here: the landscapes, the wildlife—both in size and quantity—the waterfalls, the people, the housecats, and even the Pepsi cans, fittingly called “Afri-Cans.” I’ve found it impossible to absorb it all. Each new adventure is best described as sensory overload. At the end, I’m left wondering whether I dreamed the whole thing. The memory certainly doesn’t seem real.
Our boat trip down the Chobe River is a good example of sensory overload. I was so busy running from pod of hippo to herd of elephant to new bird species, and so busy fumbling with my camera, binoculars and bird book that I can’t really say I was aware during the river cruise. (Thankfully, my fumbling did produce a few good pictures and one or two movies so I can at least prove it wasn’t a dream.) At the end, I realized I needed to do the whole thing over again—without the camera, and maybe without the bird book (but that’s a hard thing to give up).
At this point, doing it over again is the best way to describe how I feel about our time in Southern Africa. I’ve absolutely loved it, but the place so big, so amazing, so surreal that I think it will take at least three more trips here to overcome the awe and find something that feels like a real experience.
Friday, September 3, 2004
Hallowed ground
By Eric
Yesterday we visited Johannesburg's famous Soweto Township. Besides being home to 3.5 million mostly black South Africans, some of whom are desperately poor, it's the only place in the world where two Nobel Peace Prize winners lived on the same street. Only a couple of blocks from Nelson Mandela's former home you can find Bishop Desmond Tutu's residence. (Winnie Mandela, who still lives in the township, is a couple of blocks away.) It was also the birthplace of the African National Congress, now the ruling party in South Africa.
Soweto was home to some of the fiercest resistance to Apartheid, particularly during the now famous Soweto Uprising of 1976. The courage of its residents is movingly showcased in the Hector Peterson museum there, named in memory of a 13-year-old boy who was one of dozens shot and killed by police during a peaceful student demonstration against the government's dictate that school instruction be conducted only in Afrikaans, a language that neither the teachers nor the students knew. A stunning photograph of the event is the organizing principle of the museum. This one is the best I could find on the Web. The wounded boy is Hector Peterson, the girl on the left is his sister, Antoinette, from whom--incredibly--I bought our entrance tickets to the museum yesterday. The grief-stricken boy carrying Hector, named Mpuyisa Makhubu, disappeared shortly after the Soweto Uprising and was never heard from again.
Inscribed in several places in the museum are the words of Mpuyisa Makhubu's mother. She said, "Mbuyisa is not a hero. In my culture, picking up Hector is not an act of heroism. It was his job as a brother."
As we've traveled, I've frequently checked in on the American news media and--like probably everyone else--been sickened by the bellicose posturing and hollow bravado of our political leaders. The photographs of the young Soweto students marching and holding signs reading, "We are not fighting. Don't shoot!" is a testament to true courage. And while I don't personally know what that kind of courage is like, it's pretty clear that our trigger-happy leaders don't either.
There are at least two reasons why studying the struggle against Apartheid is moving. One the first and most obvious level, it was a bold stroke for racial equality in the face of a vicious and powerful oppressor. On the second level, it is a broader tale about people's capacity for bravery, compassion, and fortitude. In both veins, I highly recommend to everyone Nelson Mandela's autobiography Long Walk To Freedom.
Saturday, September 4, 2004
Great Expectations
By Jill
Last night, in the company of Jack Daniels, Eric and I reflected on our journey thus far. Our general assessment was that it has been something different from what we expected. In fact, in the last couple of weeks we've adopted a slogan for each new adventure: Nothing is what you expect, so shed the expectations.
Originally, we expected to spend these last two weeks in Africa exploring questions of land conservation, especially in transfrontier parks that cross political boundaries. But we now feel compelled by more philosophical and personal questions about wildness, other-ness, the legacy of history, and the meaning of place. I'd love to articulate the precise questions that are compelling us forward, but quite honestly, we don't know what they are. All we have are gut instincts and inchoate ideas.
Based on our Jack Daniels-inspired, poorly formed thoughts, we've put together a potpourri of experiences for our last nine days here, all of which dig at some aspect of African wildness that has intrigued us.
Tomorrow we'll drive to Pilanesberg National Park, a park created entirely from reclaimed farmland and restocked with native animals. We'll also visit De Wildt Cheetah Center, which has been a leader in captive breeding and release of cheetahs and other African predators. We've scheduled a meeting to talk about efforts to reduce tension between ranchers and predators.
After that, we'll head to Kruger National Park, South Africa's crown-jewel that is nearly the size of Connecticut. There, we'll spend three nights camping in the park and then spend two more nights on a private game reserve, experiencing "wildness a la luxury."
Our last night in South African will be spent in Sandton, a wealty suburb that has sprung up post-apartheid where local residents blockade streets and hire private security forces to control who enters the area. As a contrast, we're hoping to take a tour of Alexandra, the poorest (and by some accounts the most vibrant) township in Johannesburg, which sits just a few kilometers from Sandton.
Like the rest of our experience in Africa, we expect Internet access will be scarce over the next two weeks, but we'll try to post when we can. To keep you entertained, I've added some new pictures of our Cape-to-Vic Falls Safari. We have around 500 pictures of the trip, so please understand this is just a random and incomplete sampling. I haven't had time to link them to the other pictures, so check them out by clicking on Sept. 4 on the calendar on the right-hand side of the home page. Start with the post at the bottom.
Tuesday, September 7, 2004
De Wildt
By Jill
We returned to Pretoria today after two days on the loose, one at Pilanesberg National Park and another at De Wildt Cheetah Breeding and Research Center. We spent yesterday talking with folks at the Center about efforts to save the few (only about 250) free roaming cheetahs that live on farm lands in South Africa. And, this moring we took a tour of the Center's facilities and got to observe them feeding the cheetahs and wild dogs.
De Wildt in Afrikaans means "the wild," or so I've been told. (My brief internet research has not actually confirmed this translation, but because it fits my literary objectives I have chosen to believe that it's accurate.) What it means to be wild has emerged as the predominate theme of our trip. Eric and I have wrestled endlessly about wildness and human's relationship to it, from our first unpleasant foray into the jungle to our game drives in 4x4 vehicles where we felt like caged animals in a wild world.
Our tour of the Center today was just another look at wildness. It's a facility that is trying desperately to save a wild species by very unwild means: an extensive program of captive breeding, which means lots of cheetahs in cages. On the one hand, these animals gave us a look that clearly portrayed a de wildt spirit. On the other hand, they ate pet food out of metal dishes with the sponorship logo, Iams.
Monday, September 13, 2004
Brush with Crime
By Jill
Well, we've had our first brush with South Africa's crime epidemic. One of our backpacks was stolen two nights ago. We'd stupidly left it in our tour guide's car, and although the car had a security system and was parked at a lodge patrolled by a security guard, these guys are good. They hit five cars. One poor woman from Germany had her car broken into twice in one week, in two different locations.
We lost a great backpack and about $500 worth of stuff: all of our souveniers and gifts from Africa, miscellaneous electronics, and most devestatingly ALL of our pictures from the trip so far. The backpack they stole had everything we weren't using on a daily basis, and that turns out that stuff has a ton of sentimental value to us, but absolutely no value to the car thiefs.
We do have a photo back-up system in place; we've been sending one CD home and keeping one with us. But, so far only two CDs have arrived in Seattle. And worse yet, we had not yet sent our back-up CD from our 3 week safari home, which means nearly 400 pictures are gone for good.
To say the least, we're pretty broken up about this turn of events. Yesterday was a stressful day, but now we've resigned ourselves to reality. This blow has come at a tough time for us. Africa has been very interesting, but also emotionally and physically draining. Even before this, Eric and I were both feeling deeply road weary. The loss of the backpack feels like a kick when we're already down.
We're spending our last day in South Africa (we leave tonight) trying to retrieve pictures from the little bit of our memory card that is still blank and scrambling to buy other souveniers and gifts. Unfortunately, this probably means we can't impress you with amazing gifts from Africa. Instead, we'll impress you with stories about the amazing gifts we meant to give you. (The benefit of this method, for us at least, is that we can sound exceptionally generous, and you'll never know whether we actually bought that gift or not.)
The upside of all of this is that our brush with South African crime left us alive and physically well. And if our package from Singapore ever arrives, we'll only have lost pictures from a time when we were travelling with two other people who were taking digital pictures as frantically as we were. They won't be our pictures, but they will preserve the memories.
For the Birds
By Jill
I know everyone has been dying for another birding update. I will be leaving Southern Africa having identified .......drumroll, please......203 bird species! Can you believe it? I certainly can't. At this point, I know far more about South African birds than I do about the birds in my own backyard. In fact, I've identified about 75 more species here than I have at home. Needless-to-say, I'll have to get to get busy when I return.
Living Dangerously
By Eric
Three months ago I left home with exactly two pair of underwear--one to wear and one spare. About a week ago--unrelated to our brush with crime--one pair went missing. You do the math.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Wild Africa
By Eric
Whz do German kezboards reverse the z and y characters? We're in the Yurich, Swityerland airport and quite tired at the moment.
The last six weeks in Africa have been some of the most exciting times of our lives. It seemed everday brought new highs and lows, new discoveries, new ideas, new challenges to old beliefs. It was a hyperspeed version of what travel is normally like. And while we're glad to have spent six weeks in southern Africa, we're also glad to have a chance to relax and reflect more carefully on our recent experiences. If Hurricane Ivan (and I don't mean Lära's cat) leaves us alone, Mexico should be a much needed respite.
Here's just one thing we're been pondering. We recently spent two nights at a private game reserve near a big national park. For their guests, the private lodges offer National Geographic-quality wildlife viewing. The highlight of our stay was seeing a leopard take a small antelope kill into a thicket and up a tree where she devoured it with bloody bone-crunching drama not 30 feet from us.
How did we see all this? The animals are habituated to Land Rovers filled with clients clad in safariwear. The drivers wear radio earpieces and get remote advice on the cat's location. The drivers are also not afraid to head off-road over a few trees and bushes and put a spotlight on the leopard. So when we returned to camp, we couldn't help asking ourselves whether we'd seen a "wild" leopard or not. On the one hand, the cat was clearly not stressed by our presence, any more so than she would have been by, say, a giraffe. On the other hand, I've never seen three or more giraffes relentlessly trail a big cat through the bush accompanied by the growl of diesel engines, protected by a game rifle, and snapping photos.
[ Print This Page ] [ Email This Page ]