Battle of Isandlwana

The re-enactment of the Battle of Isandlwana begins.

This past weekend was a big one for the village next to mine: it was the 135^th anniversary of the Battle of Isandlwana. The area where I live in South Africa is called the Battlefields because it is where several historic battles took place between the Zulu people and the British. One of the biggest was the January 22^nd Battle of Isandlwana where, in 1879, the British army suffered their biggest defeat against about 28,000 Zulu warriors. Every few years, the province of KwaZulu-Natal sponsors a very extravagant re-enactment event to honor the Zulu victory and commemorate the occasion. The year before I arrived, the President of South Africa was apparently in attendance! Last year there was nothing, which was probably for the best, because it pretty much rained every day in January. But this year the event was back on and bigger than ever.

The battle took place on January 22, 1879 and marked
one of the biggest defeats by the British Army.

Even though I have walked to Isandlwana before, I just wasn’t feeling up for the two-hour trek that Saturday morning. But there were plenty of minibus taxis and large busses headed that way, so finding a ride was easy. At this point, it is not uncommon for me to run into someone who knows me without my knowing him or her, which was exactly the case when I hopped onto the taxi yesterday morning. A very pleasant younger woman said hello to me and started chatting as if we were old friends. When we arrived at the re-enactment site she asked me if I “had a plan.” I said my only plan was to find a place to watch the re-enactment. She told me to follow her. Since there were several thousand people milling about I figured I was safe enough. Turns out she was using me to get into the VIP section of the event, which was fine by me. We walked up to the gate and she started pointing at me while doing a little fast-talking in Zulu to the guard; I smiled and nodded my head. The next thing I knew we were at a table signing-in and getting special wristbands that allowed us to sit in a covered area very close to the stage and re-enactment field. About two minutes after I sat down, she said “see you later” and walked off. I was no longer needed. I looked around and quickly realized that nearly every single person in this VIP area was white and most likely British or black and some sort of government official. The very crowded area I could see in the distance was filled with all the people who live in the area. Interesting.

I was supposed to meet another PCV from the area, and watch the re-enactment with her, so I gave her a call and told her I was in the VIP section. I suggested we meet me at the gate and see if we could talk her way in. It didn’t take much. She brought her really fancy camera so we said we were taking pictures of the event for the local schools (not a complete lie), and that she needed to go to the sign-in table to pick up her wristband. The guard listened for a minute and then shrugged and let her in. Clearly a high security system was in place.

The Zulus defeated the British Army and kept
control of the area for many years to come.

Most of the ceremony was long and boring – and of course entirely in Zulu – not to mention running about an hour and a half behind schedule. The actual re-enactment was quite short, and a bit oddly done, but I really shouldn’t have been surprised. There were about twenty men and women dressed in British redcoats and about 200 Zulus dressed in traditional warrior attire who sped through a quick scene of gun fire, fake deaths, and then a big Zulu victory finale. Clearly the best actors were assigned to stay near the VIP seating area because when one or two of the Zulus got “shot” by the British they staged quite a personal show of dying. I tried not to laugh but found it impossible. A fairly grand Zulu lunch was served after the re-enactment was over and since we had our wristbands, we were entitled to partake in the sit down meal. Within minutes of finishing our food, we were ready to go home, as it was nearly three o’clock. Unfortunately, this appeared to be easier said than done. Even though I was only one village away there were so many taxis and busses all over the place I had no idea which one I could take. After about 10 minutes I gave up and just started to walk, figuring I would flag down a minibus taxi that passed by at some point. As luck would have it, not more than 10 minutes after I started walking, a car drove by with the chairperson of my school’s School Governing Body, and he told me to hop in for a ride home. Perfect timing. I made it back well before dark to show my family the pictures I took of the event. Eventually I will get around to sharing them with my school as well ;-)

A New Neighbor

After months and months and months of being told that another volunteer was coming to my village, this past weekend he finally arrived. Peace Corps has a program called “PC Response,” which gives Returned Volunteers (or in certain cases people with no PC experience) the chance to do shorter-term assignments. There is no training period or language preparation – you are just dropped off at the site and told to get to work. The volunteer that arrived is part of this program.

The basics: his name is Richard, he is seventy years old, and he served as a volunteer in Peru about forty years ago. His current assignment is to make the brand new computer lab at the secondary school across the street functioning – easier said than done in rural South Africa. I believe that he plans to do this by teaching the teachers how to use the computers and they in turn will teach the learners.

After a week in Pretoria for a brief orientation, he seems to be settling in nicely to his new home. He lives just over the mountain from me at the induna’s house (local chief), so I am sure he will be quite well known in no time at all. I briefly showed him around our area of the village, including the tuck shop where we can buy bread and cold drink, as well as the back way to get to the school. It didn’t take long for him to realize that the back way is only doable when it is not raining, otherwise, you will arrive at school looking like you bathed in mud.

I find it interesting that in the two days he has been here, he has asked me several questions that I cannot answer. Like, where is the nearest Catholic Church? No idea. Or, is there an internet café in our shopping town? Probably, but I have never needed to look for it. It is nice to have someone new around to make me think about things that I have never bothered to think about before now.

I’ll admit that it is a bit strange to have another volunteer within a ten-minute walk of my house, but it has its advantages as well. Hopefully we will be able to help each other out at school and at home when needed.

Vacation Part 2: The Wild Coast

After spending an uneventful New Year’s Day in the village (I would say the highlight was washing my bed sheets and pillowcases for the first time since last New Year’s Day), I was off again on another 10-day vacation – this time to the Wild Coast. This is a somewhat lesser known, but really beautiful part of South Africa in the province of Eastern Cape along the Indian Ocean. I had a bunch of other volunteers tell me that it was their favorite vacation destination, so I felt like it could not be missed. I decided to go by myself because I didn’t feel like coordinating with anyone else’s schedule, and it worked out quite nicely. Turns out that lots of people travel the Wild Coast alone or with only one other person and it is quite easy to make friends along the way. Besides, I’ve traveled plenty on my own, and in most instances it makes things easier – this was no exception.

At the Bulolo waterfall in Port St John's.

My first stop was the lazy town of Port St. John’s. Actually, my first stop was Durban, because it was too far to make it all the way down to that area in one day, but going to Durban doesn’t really count. I spent the first day taking an “easy,” guided hike to the nearby Bulolo waterfall. There was a family of four that also participated, which made for nice conversation along the route and at the falls. Before we ate our picnic lunch, there was a chance to jump off a 10-meter high rock at the top of the falls into the water or swing out over the water on a large rope hanging from a tree, but I decided to pass. On the second day, I took an unguided hike to a local nature reserve in the hopes of walking along some of the trails in the reserve and seeing some birds. Sadly, it took so long to get there that I didn’t get very far on the trails and therefore did not see too many birds, which was a shame. My other option was to go to a local mud cave and bathe in mud. From the reports I got later that day, the mud caves would have been a better choice. Ah well – I guess I’ll have to come back ;-) My visit to the area was topped off with a trip up to an old airstrip to watch the sun set and then listen to some great musical entertainment at the backpackers the rest of the night. All in all, a great start to the trip.

Even though my next destination of Coffee Bay was not that far away on the map, there is no direct public transport between the two places, so I had to back track to the local town of Mthatha and get a different taxi to my next stop. This ended up working out perfectly because it also meant that I was able to stop at a grocery store and pick up a few things rather than having to pay to eat every meal at the backpackers.

At Hole in the Wall on the Wild Coast.

My first full day in Coffee Bay started with a somewhat major snag. The backpackers where I stayed was really big and had two areas: one on each side of a little river that rose and fell with the ocean tide. At low tide, crossing the river was the same as walking through some wet sand. At high tide, nearly every rock that you would step on to cross was almost completely submerged. When I went to cross that morning, to buy a bottle of water to take on my hike, the water was pretty deep. I waited for a minute trying to decide what to do when an old Xhosa man WITH A CANE came by, waited as the water flowed out to sea, then scurried across the rocks without any trouble and before the water flowed back in. After seeing this, I thought, surely I can make it. WRONG. I had a hard time keeping my balance, slipped a few times, and at some point, although I could not say when, I cut my big toe on my right foot really badly. As in, a large chunk of skin was hanging off the side of my toe. It was quite gross although not at all painful. The real problem was that it was bleeding non-stop. I hobbled over to reception leaving a rather distinct trail of blood behind me and asked if they had a towel I could use. Clearly I was not the first to have an accident because they whipped out a huge bottle of antiseptic, gauze, and bandages and brought me a bucket of water. I sat for a while to try to stop the bleeding but it was pretty persistent. Probably I could have used a stitch or two but that was not going to happen. I wrapped it up as best I could and then managed to find the “back way” back to my room on the other side of the river. By the time I returned, it had completely bled through the gauze and bandage, so the two and half hour hike that was scheduled to leave in15 minutes was going to have to leave without me. I was pretty upset. Partly for being the most uncoordinated person in the history of Peace Corps, but mostly because I had met a really nice group of people the night before at dinner who I had told I as going on this hike, and now I was not. Anyway, I re-cleaned and re-bandaged my toe and made my way back to reception to make sure they knew I would not be participating and to try to get some more medical supplies. When I got there, the owner was around and she asked what happened. After telling her the story, she told me I could wait about 30 minutes and then ride with the driver who was going to pick the hikers up and bring them back. A nice surprise. So I did make it to the ultimate destination, which was called Hole in the Wall, a really big rock with a small hole: my description sounds lame, but it was neat to see. It actually started to rain just as the group of hikers arrived, so no one got any pictures. Since I had arrived about 30 minutes earlier, I had plenty of pictures. And after hearing about the hike, there’s only a 50/50 chance I would have made it. I think my injury probably worked out for the best.

Jumping into the Bomvu River
near Coffee Bay on the Wild Coast.

Thankfully, my second day in Coffee Bay went a bit smoother. Although I was still a bit weary about my toe, I decided not to let it stop me from going on the hike to Mapuzi cliffs and caves. The hike was not an easy one, but it was a fun day because there were only 12 of us on the journey, and they were all people I had made friends with the few nights I had been there. The last stop on our route was an area of rocks about 10 meters high that could be used to jump into the Bomvu (Red) River below. After passing on a similar activity a few days before, I decided to make one jump off the edge and even got picture to prove it. I’m not going to lie, it was scary at the top. But I’m happy I jumped, and even happier that I lived to tell the tale.

The next morning, I packed up my stuff and headed to my third and final destination, Lubazni Beach. To be honest, I could have gone home at that point. I had had a great time and felt like I did quite enough, but then I figured I might as well see as much as I can. Getting there was

View of Lubanzi Beach from the backpackers.

not much of a challenge. I had thought about hiking (it would have taken about five hours), but then came to my senses and just took public transport. Lubanzi was the most low-key of the three places, which turned out to be a great way to end. There were no organized hikes or specific sites to see. Instead, it was just a few days of sitting in a hammock reading with an afternoon walk to the beach to take pictures. Vacationing at its finest.

As per my usual routine, I arrived back at site (again after spending a day in Durban) the day before school was about to begin. I can’t imagine doing that in America, but here it is the way to go. I unpacked my stuff, figured out what I needed to wash (everything), visited with my host family, and went to bed. Year 2 – bring it on!

Happy New Year 2014!

It is a bit hard for me to believe that the whole of 2013 is gone and I was on the continent of Africa for every second of it. What an incredible year. I’m not one for new year’s resolutions, because frankly, I have never had much success with them. Instead, I will just be thankful that all has gone so well thus far, and that I will be returning home to the US sometime later this year.

 After being away for Christmas, I was fortunate enough to spend these past few days at home in my village to experience part of the “festive season” and to ring in the new year with my host family and neighbors.

One of the twenty-three groups competing for top prize.

One of the events that I missed last year, because I was traveling, is an annual Zulu dance competition that happens on the 30^th of December. Groups of men from all around the area gathered in the village, just down the road in an open field actually, to compete for a cow (the first place prize) and various cash amounts (for second, third, and fourth places). There were twenty-three groups in all performing routines that were original in nature, but required to have various components of the traditional Zulu warrior dances. Matching costumes and accessories, such as shields and flags, were a must have for the serious competitors. I think that things were supposed to get started around 9am, but they didn’t get going until closer to 11am. The crowds grew as the day

The Judge

progressed, with nearly everyone bringing an umbrella to protect themselves from the blazing hot sun. Local village women and bottle shop owners set up tents or opened the back of their pick-up trucks as make-shift concessions stands selling beer, cold drink (soda), and various snacks. When the final results were announced around 3:30pm, people were excited to cheer on the winners but eager to get home after a long day. Those that did not finish in the top four will have to wait until next year to try again. I won’t be here to see it, but I am sure it will be equally entertaining for those that attend.

Looks like rain? No. Using umbrellas for shade.

This group came in first place.

One of the concession stands available to viewers.

As for New Year’s Eve, it was much the same as last year. A nearby family had a late night party (music supplied by the stereo of a minibus taxi) with a small fireworks show at midnight. Things wrapped up around 1:00am, as most people would be getting up early this morning to cook a special meal to be eaten after attending church for most of the day. Rather than cooking, I spent the day cleaning and getting ready to travel down to the Wild Coast for the remainder of the holiday before school begins again on the 13^th of January. Hopefully the weather will cooperate and it will be the perfect way to end the summer break. Either way, I’m looking forward to the start of school the new adventures that are sure to come with it.