Durban

Mon 19th - Tues 20th March

After the traumatic but profound experience in the township, Victor showed us around Durban a bit. Because he was a black man, he could take us to places that white people never go - first stop was the witchdoctors market. This is a very African culture, a deepseated belief in the traditional medicines prescribed by witchdoctors for all kinds of ailments. The majority of Zulu people will come here for treatment rather than go to a hospital or western doctor. As you walk through the market you are assualted by so much - colours, smells, noises. There are different methods preferred by different witchdoctors, so in some shops you will see piles of different barks or woods chopped up - these medicines are administered by smoke. Others believe in the natural powers of animals, so there are various skins and bones on display, not to mention the odd dead lizard or starfish.

For the people who work on these stalls, it is their entire life. They literally live on the market, covering over the piles of ingrediants each night and pulling out mattresses and pillows that have been stacked up out of reach. And the entire is market is full of people doing exactly the same thing... but they still make very good money apparently. I guess could be an option when we get fed up with the NHS...

While I was in Durban there had been some huge winds and a freak alignment of the moon (or something) that had resulted in a MASSIVE swell and the biggest waves they had seen in 20 years. The whole of the beach front had been wiped out and the little cafes and shops washed away - put an end to my ideas of surfing lessons!!

It turns out that Home Backpackers is actually owned/run by Christians!! Wasn't expecting that, but it certainly had a different feel about it, something you can't quite put your finger on (hint: Jesus!). Victor invited me to a prayer meeting at his church on Tuesday evening, and he took me and introduced me to his friends. I met a girl called Tracy who's mum has just emmigrated to England - "Oh really, where abouts?" (because obviously I know every single town in England!) "Southsea" - "No way!!!!!!!!!!! I actually DO know that place!!" Crazy stuff. The prayer meeting was cool - it was an 'emergency' day of prayer and fasting for the security of the church members (apparently this is not uncommon in South Africa) and many of the people I met thought it was hilarious that my first experience of church here was praying for safety! I tried not to think too much about the implications of this...

I left Durban feeling very touched - not really sure how else to put it really! It stirred up in me lots of feelings about what I'm doing here, why God wants me in South Africa and possibilities for the future. All very exciting, in an terribly scary way!! Will have to keep praying about it lots, but thinking of coming back at the end of my trip to get involved in Soul In The City projects this summer.

Township Tales

Sun 18th -Mon 19th March

I arrive in Durban and get dropped off at Home Backpacker's. It is indeed very homely, with sofas and a TV, although most people are out when I arrive. I am befriended by an Israeli Divemaster called Ud and an English couple who have been volunteering with GVI in Kenya, who allow me to share their meal seeing as I have yet to find a supermarket! Very lovely people, and we had a great laugh.

The next morning I have booked to go on a Township Tour through the hostel. I have mixed feelings about these, as they are offered all over the place and although I know the value of seeing places like that first hand, I can also see the potential for exploitation if the schemes are run insensitively. However, I had a better feeling about this one, and for lack of any other ideas I agreed to go. There were just 2 of us, and the tour was organised by a guy called Victor, orginally from Kenya and identifyable by a big laugh and even bigger dreadlocks.

He took us to Umlazi, which is the second biggest township in South Africa, after Sowetho. It ran on for miles and miles, as far as the eyes could see. He estimated that close to half the population of Durban lives there - the average family size being 16 children. The government gives money for each child under 13 years, so poor families keep on having babies. Big families live in small houses, often only one or two rooms, and it's not uncommon for fathers and uncles to sleep next to the daughters of the household. The biggest crime in the townships is indecent assult, and the perpertrators usually get away with it because they are the main breadwinners so the family does not want them to go to jail - how would they eat? Other crime is really quite low in the township areas, because everyone knows everyone else and so they would soon be caught if they tried anything in their neighbourhood. The diet is very poor - based mostly on potatoes and tomatoes and maize. Very starchy and often fried in oil, so obesity and health related problems are rife, which in turn means individuals are more susceptible to problems associated with AIDS.

One of the biggest problems is the lack of good jobs availble to these communities. We visited a family who were in a "richer" area (relatively speaking of course). They had been better off when the daughters were working and had been able to afford a permanent house and running water, a TV etc. Since then both the daughters have died from AIDS, leaving the aging grandmother to support the grandchildren on her pension. We spoke to her about her life and she said that in some ways things were getting better. I asked what she hoped for the future, and she said there was no hope for her grandchildren because there were no jobs for them - once they had finished school and the government stopped paying money for them, all they can do is stay around the township.

Next we moved on to the "poorer" area - the house we visited looked like someone had tried to set up home in a scrapyard. The walls were made from corrugated iron, rusting away in places and leaving great holes in the sides. The roof was supported by a huge tree branch, which had cracked under the weight and would need to be fixed soon or the whole house would collapse. There was a tatty, smelly sofa and an old iron bunkbed frame that was so bent out of shape it didn't look stable. A family of about 5 lived here, pushing aside what furniture they had each night and bedding down on the floor. It was hard to be welcomed into to this place to sit and look the lady in the eye, watching her prepare a meal of maize for her child, knowing all that I have at home. Yet I saw in her an optimism lacking in the previous house. A knowledge that she didn't have to settle for what she had, that she was worth more than this but that she was the only person she could rely upon to change things. She had saved up some of her child benefit and started buying small goods, like cooking oil and selling it on in her neighbourhood. This had expanded into selling on second hand clothes bought in Durban. She was doing what little she could.

A few hundred meters up the road, we passed what I first thought was a pile of scrap metal. No, said Victor, someone lives there - can you see his bed through the gap? I felt sick.

The Baz Bus

Sun 18th March 2007

Sunday morning greets my jet lagged self rather early, as I am booked to catch a bus to Durban which leaves at about 8 in the morning. I reluctantly drag myself out of bed and shower, and pack my bag which appears to have erupted all my belongings despite the fact I have been at the hostel for less than 24 hrs.

The Baz Bus experience is an interesting one. It's a good idea - a bus that drives backpackers between the main cities, stopping of along the way at various hostels to unload/pick up whoever requires it. Having envisaged a coach-type affair, the Baz Bus goes against the current trend and is smaller than I expected, but as comfortable as you could wish for. I have bought a 7 day pass, which means I can go anywhere I want during that period, but seeing as I need to be in Cape Town by next weekend I don't have much time to faff around at lots of different stops. Joburg to Durban is a whole route, and so takes most of the day but once I get there I am staying for 3 nights.

As we leave Joburg, my fringe being blow dried by the draught from the open window, I feel like the adventure has really begun. South Africa here I come!! Ok, well maybe not, I am still quite sleepy... But travelling by bus is a great way to enjoy some of the scenery, and you come to appreciate what a diverse country it really is. Making our way down to the coast, the land becomes lush and green in contrast to the arid orange of Johannesburg. We pass through the Drakensburg mountains, an epic scenery reminiscent of the Lake District except the peaks are hidden in cloud. Eventually we get to Durban and I can see the sea! Wooooo-hoooo!! Beautiful.

Arrival

Sat 17th March 2007

The flight continues quite comfortably. Due, I expect, to the season it is rather empty and I am lucky enough to have the whole row to myself. It is getting to the point in the journey when I should be trying to get some sleep, but instead I watch films pretty much continuously (don't you find that long haul flights are actually the only chance you get to watch certain films, as you would never choose to watch them at home but seeing as they are there and there's nothing better to do...?).

As we draw near to the final destination I start to get nervous, anticipating the forthcoming encounter as I would imagine one who has been set up with a stranger by a trusted friend - a blind date with an entire country! God has made it very clear to me through various things that He wants me to go to South Africa, a country that, to be honest, I have never had more than a passing interest in. The assurance that this meeting will be a significant one to my life is heavy in my mind, but beyond that all I have is a heartful of questions about how, what and why, underlined by a gentle bemusement that I find myself in such bizarre situations. I have been obedient and got this far... it is now time to get to know this new friend and find out why she will beecome so important to me - to explore the way she ticks, her ups and downs, her brilliance and beauty alongside her flaws and foibles.

The first encounter was not majorly impressive, although I choose to turn a blind eye to it seeing as it was obviously the airport and as we discussed earlier these are not the most reliable of places and it seems a little unfair to judge a country by the state of International Arrivals. Johannesburg was a itty bit of a nightmare - I think about 4 planes landed at once. At passport control I have an epiphany that the British are in fact THE ONLY ones who know how to queue properly (despite the fact that I was standing in the SA Nationals line for about 10 minutes!!). And whilst collecting my bags I remember just how irritating people can be when you are hot and tired.

Thankfully I was picked up by a guy from the hostel. During the 30 minute drive he imparted some interesting random facts about Joburg, including the places you really don't want to go. Apparently there are around 6 million trees in the city and they have all been handplanted there. Crazy. If you look closely however, you see that some trees are not all they seem - South African telecommunications companies have made the interesting decision to attempt to disguise their phone pylons as trees. You don't really have to look that closely, as said disguises are not tremendously convincing but it's the thought that counts, I guess? I notice that eveywhere is a lot bigger than I expected - roads are longer, stuff seems more spread out. It makes me laugh, because I always forget that Britain is really quite small when compared to most other countries in the world.

The hostel is small and quite when I arrive, thankful to have booked a private room for my first night. After a quick tour I head out to get some food and sleep most of the afternoon. Early start tomorrow!

Stopover

In my experience, airports can be a mixed bag. The European ones I have been in tend to have been quite bland, whereas the Middle Eastern and Asian ones are usually much more towards the flamboyant end of the spectrum, and can be a full on assault of the senses. When they are quite, I find them almost relaxing. When they are busy, a total nightmare!

I was greeted at Dubai International airport at the beginning of a 3 1/2 hour stop, by a throng of jet-lagged fellow travellers, who seemed to be doing their utmost to get in my way. Not the most helpful when you find yourself pacing up and down an endless line of departure gates, trying to find a toilet not overrun by small children or cleaners. In my desperation to spend a penny and also find a modest spot to put my belt back on (which had had to be removed for the security scan and now left me feeling a bit half-dressed), I had also managed to miss the trolley stop, and my laptop bag was beginning to feel quite heavy. Finally I reached the loos on the other side, but it came as a sharp shock to find that, yes we are actually now in the land of squatty toilets. That always catches me out in the airport! Not quite ready to face tackling that one at the moment, I pray there is a western "seated" loo free. Thank-you Jesus! Rather over-sized and there's water all over the floor, but am I complaining? Not on your life!! Crikey, they flush automatically when you stand up! Nothing like being hurried along by a toilet, eh? Not sure quite how I feel about that one...

I rejoin the hustle in the main waiting area. The airport is huge, and on 3 levels. There are so many people everywhere, the atmosphere is fraught with the tension of travelling at night. I distract myself by inspecting the decor - as I mentioned previously, we have some interesting ideas...there are some crazy lights that look like they have been modelled on UFOs, and some rival designs that are like many small lights on curly wires bent out all over the place. The most ridiculous things has to be the small plantation of giant fake palm trees in the middle of the building. Not really sure what the point of that is... at all!! Mind you, I remember Abu Dhabi airport was like being in the middle of a giant ring donut... Making my way towards Duty Free, I ponder how I'm going to pass the time - still having approximately 2 1/2 hours to go. I'm still lugging my laptop - must get me one of those trolleys!! The endless displays of chocolate and perfume proves rather uninspiring however, even a MAC counter can't tempt me. I browse through some music CD's, rather surprised to find Travis in the "International" section until I remember we're in the UAE... ahem! I'm also particularly amused to find what must be the worlds last great stronghold of cassette tapes. My chuckles are short lived though, and the people around me are starting to really get on my nerves. So is the laptop. Where on earth do you get one of those blinkin' trolleys??!! Everyone else has them!!!!!

I decide on a Costa to calm frayed nerves and give me something to do other than wander aimlessly, although it has to be a take-away as the seating area is packed. I can't pay on my Maestro card, although they will take sterling cash (?!), so I order a hot milk with hazelnut syrup. I get 2 quid change from a fiver.Ermm....? This better be amazing! When it comes, I can't actually taste the syrup, but the guy serving was flirting with me so I smile sweetly and ask for some more. Now it tastes gross! I can't believe this cost 3 pounds. Lesson learnt.

The Big Pack

I hate packing. I really do. For a traveller, it's what we biologists would term an "disadvantageous evolutionary trait" i.e. not very helpful when it comes to surviving the task ahead. In my experience packing is one of those awful prospects that mysteriously takes up the exact amount of spare time you have, leaving nothing for any other tasks you may desire to accomplish... if I have all day to pack, I WILL need all day to pack. Hence my previous tactic to cope was always to leave it until the last minute (housemates and teammates will testify to this on the Brazil trip last year).

In an effort to appear grown-up and organised, if only to my mother, I approached the situation from a different angle this time around. I have devised a new stage in preparing for a trip, called "pre-packing". This is basically a preparatory stage, where most of the major decisions are made about what you need, what you want and what you can in reality lift once your bag is packed. All clothes are spread out over parents large bed and anything potentially useful dumped on top of them, and then the whole is sifted through with a backpacker mentality. "Do I really need this?" is an essential question to be asked of each and every item. Mostly the answer is yes, so the process needs to be repeated a few times until desperation brings out my ruthless side. NO, NO, NO!!!

Once this is done, I can then enter into that most dreaded of times - packing. Please note that however much the pre-packing phase sounds like packing, there are subtle differences that must be maintained for my sanity. Otherwise that would mean I had spent ALL day packing, and I quite possibly couldn't cope!!!