New wineskins

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A change of perspective makes a huge difference. If you hold an apple in your hand, you hold an orchard. The difference between an apple and an orchard is stewardship (the gist of a message from Alan Scott at the New Wine Leaders. Conference in Harrogate). As leaders, in whatever circumstances we hold so much potential. We could be selfish and eat the apple and bin the core, enjoying each crisp, juicy, sweet mouthful, while it lasts, for short term pleasure and gain. But the apple carries seeds. Instead of consigning them to the ‘worm food’ bucket or the compost heap we could plant them, give them a positive and productive environment, care for them, nurture them, help them grow, with sun and rain, over time trees will produce fruit…..more seeds to plant, nurture and grow. This leads to exponential multiplication.

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As a leader we have responsibility to nurture the people around us, the ones who are part of our organisation, those who remain on the fringe, whilst offering life and potential to those in our community who have little or no connection. In every person or relationship, every situation, every circumstance there is an opportunity rather than a problem. A nurturing leader will spot the opportunity to turn round what could be disastrous, awkward or perhaps even neutral to a place of growth and health. It takes boldness rooted in security of who you are – that is, made in the image of God, one of His children, His creation, rescued, forgiven, cleansed by Jesus on the cross and given life through the resurrection….just pause here for a moment and consider that! How do you see yourself? Once we are secure in our identity we can tackle anything!
You will have your own contexts like I have mine so let’s move forward and bring change within the community.

Which leads me onto a second point that was raised a couple of days ago.

the church

creates the culture or at least it should do. Perhaps we adopt the culture of the world around us. True, that is the context in which we find ourselves, but there is potentially a better way of life where neighbour (not just next door but anyone in the community) helps neighbour, gives something of themselves for their neighbour, where difference is seen as enriching the community rather than breaking community through misunderstanding, suspicion, racism, bullying etc. A community that follows Jesus, by creating real, effective community can lead the way.

Reading and writing

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Earnestly I read and write and think and pray. I thank God for the beautiful country that South Africa is, the landscape, the wildlife, the vegetation, the remarkable diversity and of course it’s people. I talk to the church leaders and it seems that the church here is in a similar position to us in the UK. It is so easy to make sweeping generalisations so I apologise for that, I speak about my experience and perceptions. Like the signs around here warning of the wildlife, Beware this is just me and my thinking, my exploring, not casting judgement on anyone else, though I’m happy to dialogue with you.
My broad task is as I recognise that the 20-30s age group is missing from ‘the church’ I suggest that we have been doing something wrong in the past if this is the outcome. Can we learn from this by talking to people born since 1980? If so, perhaps we won’t be falling into the same traps and the kingdom of God will become more diverse and wholesome as a result.
Yes the church here has the same issues and they are aware of it but don’t seem to have a strategy to tackle it. At the same time I happen to be reading a quite challenging and inspirational book by Neil Cole “Church 3.0” who puts forward ideas for the multiplication of growth of disciples, committed to and following Jesus.
I raise questions in my mind:
What is it about the church that 20/30s find irrelevant? Boring?
Are they curious about Jesus?
What issues do they face?
What activities do they take part in and can there be any common ground with the church?
What values do they hold and are they the same a generations past or are they different?
Can they separate perceptions of ‘church’ from perceptions about Jesus and all that He offers?
Are they interested in any of the following: correct doctrine to follow? Belonging to something? Sharing experience through life? Worship, prayer, bible? Supporting people in need? Taking part in or engaging with the local community, perhaps growing local community? Christian lifestyle? Socialising with a chance to explore more about Jesus/Christian faith etc.?
Perhaps a survey may reveal something?
Is the church asking any of the questions? Is the church sharing, communicating, getting out there and mixing with this generation? Probably not!
The church here talks about being ‘orthodox’. What do they mean by that? I’m sure most Anglican churches believe in and state the ancient creeds, if that is what is meant. Or is it about a more literal reading and understanding of the scriptures? Doctrine is important here. Teaching. Worship. Prayer. Are these the things that are scratching the 20/30s where they itch?

These ideas were coming and being mixed with a walk through the Kranzkloof Nature reserve

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– fantastic, with a warning not to go on your own because there has been some problems with local residents. I was on my own and I did see some lads from a distance who didn’t look like they were on a nature trail! Everything here seems to have a warning attached to it! I also visited the Pietermaritzburg botanical gardens….these places hold a certain peace and tranquility…..I think of Adam and Eve in a garden…..so idyllic. Experiencing the presence of God in this environment seems more precious than ‘have I got my doctrine of communion right?’ I am communing with God right now!

A final observation for these few days. To go anywhere there is security. You have to get through gates. It is in the psyche of South Africans. Is it all necessary? Probably, sadly. Can there be a time when it is not necessary? I believe so. God can break through. Can this government produce the right environment to reduce the huge gap between rich and poor. Probably not, sadly. But future governments, bit by bit can! That’s the hope. I reflect on this as I stand in the rain outside Antonio’s house with my finger on the buzzer trying to get in. He knows I’m coming. I’m there on time. Do they think about the English guy who isn’t used to gates and security on every house or estate? No one comes after me, as I hope, the problem is mine and mine alone. I hear voices of the group inside. Laughter. And I’m on the outside! How many other people feel like this. The church is having a party and I’m standing out in the rain.

Loved theses Terrapins enjoying themselves in the sun, in the botanical gardens, just had to include the photo – caught them just before they dived into the water.

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Close up:and far away!

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The adventure took on a more adventurous slant today as we drove to the Wetlands. This is a game park but without elephant and giraffe. This time we drove ourselves. The gatekeeper let us in after joking about not having there driving licence to show him. A slightly worrying moment, I’ll carry it when all the time, when it get back and retrieve it, this is the second time!

Without describing the whole day we saw rhino, not at a distance, not only by the road, across the road, in hue he bush appearing from nowhere
and buffalo
and zebras
and monkeys
and impala
and nyala
and kudu (oh that’s what I ate in the Thai restaurant the first night!)
and other creatures that I can’t remember the name of now
and all sorts of birds, including this pair playing with the waves

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and when we got to the beach there were fascinating crabs popping up and down their holes

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The views were magnificent, the beach, a gorgeous surprise, this was much better than the game park yesterday even if we didn’t see the e’s and g’s.
The extra night that we stayed was well worth it, with a new chalet overlooking the river, it was a shame to leave, we could have spent so much more time there……ah, next time!!

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And as we take the last walk along the boardwalk, where crocs lie just beneath, and someone was eaten by a croc here last year, so we’re told, the heart beat races along, adrenalin pumping just a wee bit. There are the sellers, of course trying to make a living. This guy was great carving monkey oranges…couldn’t resist helping the local economy.

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Then homeward bound. In more senses than one as the girls were to leave tomorrow. Of course we had to go via the post office for Sheila and to pick up the tea bag gifts to give to Jill. Thankfully they were there and Jill was delighted with them. Short visit for lunch to Makaranga, botanical gardens and 40k drive to the airport. It wasn’t too emotional, we all kept a lid on it but afterwards there was a distinct feeling of emptiness. Holiday over, new phase starting.

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In the bush

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I forgot to say that last night via Facebook we discovered that our daughter has broken her leg! before even playing her football match! You feel so helpless from thousands of miles away. Not that there is much we could do from a couple of hundred mils away but communication would at least be easier.
Today is a day of rest, no it’s not Sunday but we just needed it. As it happened it rained all day so it was a good day to complete the preparations for the next adventure. To St. Lucia. Not the Caribbean one!
Saturday arrives and we decide to avoid the motorway and see more of the country. More towns and townships and vast hills and plains. Sugar cane dominates in this area. People walking along the side of the road are chewing at the sweet leaves. The most memorable town we visited was Tongaat and that was only because two days later a supermarket being constructed there collapsed due to poor quality concrete being used and it made the news, even the BBC!
The long straight roads passed neatly planted forestry with tall, straight trees, being grown simply for commercial purposes. I say neatly planted because they were all in precise straight lines, planted quite close to each other. Looking down the lines of trees produced a strange visual sensation, that I couldn’t really capture on camera or video. I thought of hey he Star Wars sequence (and other subsequent films) doing the chase through the woods where the heroes narrowly avoid the trees and the pursuers inevitably crash into one, to their death or at least falling off their craft!
Sheila was very excited by the road sign ‘beware hippos crossing!’

20131204-172828.jpgAnd we knew we were nearly there. Across the bridge, turn right and down the Main Street, which occasionally has hippos and leopards walking along it late at night. We stayed at Sunset Lodge which I would recommend if anyone is planning to stay in the area. The hosts were really helpful and the self-catering accommodation is superb although the difference between luxury and standard was so minimal I can’t even remember the difference! We did have to carefully negotiate round a few monkeys on the way back from the shops, holding onto our bags tightly. I rapidly put the bananas in Vi’s hat which she amazingly calmly held. I’m sure the monkeys could still smell the bananas through the hat but they didn’t go for them.

Evening meal at the bar and grill overlooking the river. No different from any other pub garden with benches except everyone has binoculars and are on the he lookout for crocs and hippos! Hey, excitement as a hippo is spotted in the water. Food was great too!
Early, and I mean early, especially for me, we were met at the gate by the tour company with land rover compete with welded, high level seating for 9 people from the back of these cab, open to the elements except for plastic roll-down sides which were needed as it was cold at 5am! Another couple were picked up and another stop for five more. This meant someone had to sit in the he cab with the driver. An hour later we arrived at the main gate of Hluhluwe Safari Park. Toilet break and chat to Patrick and Daniel, German brothers, one of whom travelled in the cab. The party was made up of another German couple – I nicknamed the guy ‘Arnie’ as he was obviously a body builder or exercise enthusiast, and I couldn’t see past his neck! The three at the front were a Norwegian couple and their daughter.
apparently there was a lion near the gate but it was obviously hiding by the time we got through into the park. The driver promised Sheila giraffes within 5 minutes and was ecstatic to find them in 2! They were a long way off, but still amazing to see in their natural habitat. This was a theme for the day, the elephants were a long way off, until we saw one by the gate on the way out and outside the park on the roadway. We didn’t see any lions or leopards. We did see some vultures as the truck broke down and we had to wait in the bush for over an hour and a half. That is exempt Vi who couldn’t wait for an hour and a half…so had to find a bush! The road was a track more than a road and it was in poor condition. Being jolted around for hours was OK but we didn’t really get rewarded by seeing the animals up close, so overall a bit disappointed with the day. Vi took the option of the cab on the way back! And I lost my hat.
We were back for the boat ride in the late afternoon. Nearly didn’t make it as we were stopped by the police and asked for driving licence and passport, neither of which I could produce for the seriously unhappy policeman. He let us off with a warning, probably because we were foreigners!
Car parked with some boys looking after it for us and onto the quayside. Sarah led this expedition. She was brilliant, so passionate about the hippos, environment, birds etc. she loved it when two hippos were fighting in huge distance, we followed to see what would happen. The younger one got to the bank and ran and the older male couldn’t really keep up so it didn’t end in a major drama. This recollection doesn’t do the trip justice at all, so apologies for that but it made our day. We could now add Weavers, a croc, several families of hippos up close to our list along with swallows fish eagles, mangrove trees, sunset and storm!

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The day ended with the guard on our site calling out ‘hippo, hippo’ and there were two adult and one baby hippo on the lawn just near our chalet…magic!!

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From beads to baboons in three days

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Tuesday morning. We visit St. Agnes Church where the ‘beaders’ are hard at work. The hall is filled with magnificent, delicate work as the ladies continue the ancient Zulu traditional skill of creating jewellery, Christmas decorations, animals, salad server covers and a whole host of other things from tiny, tiny beads. Their eyesight must be sharp! This is a place where they can sell their goods and make a living, something that they wouldn’t otherwise be able to do. How do you choose one lady’s craft over another’s? We are moved wIth compassion for these women and the families that they struggle to support and purchase goods from a selection around the room. I’ll return to take some pictures.

We head off to Durban, taking a somewhat unusual route thanks to some nifty navigating but we saw some interesting places on there way! Upon arrival we were greeted by the Moses Mabhida Stadium, built for the 2010 World Cup.

20131202-111347.jpgIt stands out dominating the seafront. Parking the car in a bay, a bit tentatively, not knowing the system and no parking meters or pay machines in sight. A kindly gentlemen gestured that he would look after it for us. The beach is perfect, white soft sand, large and not overcrowded, it stretches for over 3km. The Indian Ocean is warm. We walk along one of the piers stretching into the water where the high waves buffet against the numerous concrete columns with the wind blowing through our hair. Vi holds onto her hat for dear life!
Strolling along the beach and promenade in this carefree fashion reminds me that we are so privileged to be here, in the sun, in November, a far cry from the cold, damp and dark days being experienced at home. Being ultra-organised (not) my flip flops remained in Kloof and oh how I needed them now. It wasn’t until a bit later that I realised that the sand was burning my feet which spawned a couple of blisters! Coffee in a hotel balcony preceded a hot, sticky walk through the town to find the post office and a stamp for Sheila! Several miles(!) later after encountering our only dubious time, when a slightly suspicious man, wearing a white and red a Nike hat, seemed to be closely following us. Be aware of everyone and everything around you. We crossed the road. It may have been quite innocent but he crossed too but eventually melted away into the crowded streets, his prey having got away on this occasion. The post office was a post colonial building, it was like travelling back in time to an old style large space with counters all around the edge. A smiling Sheila suggested that after visiting the second window…..the one where they sell stamps…..her mission was a success. We avoided the demonstration that was taking place in the main square, not wishing to be caught up in something that may get out of hand, we walk by the massive docks and along back to the seafront. Such a small sentence for such a lot hot walk! Returning to the hotel, Vi had a drink while Sheila and I walked back via a paddle in the ocean to pick up the car which, thankfully was still there. The man duly appeared and we rewarded him with a few Rands, reflecting that it was cheaper than parking in Te. Uk by a long way and safer because there was a guy watching you car, hey what a system!!

The following day, with the car packed for an overnight stay we set off to the Midlands. With brilliant navigation, only getting confused and lost once when we visited the side streets of a bustling town…..signposts are a bit sporadic in this country, we decided……we visit Howick, with a spectacular waterfall. In the river above the falls some women wash clothes.

20131202-111200.jpgThe view across the valley is stunning. The accompanying craft stalls excite Sheila and she proceeds to engage in conversation and bartering with the sellers. Both come out winners in the end so everyone is happy. In a strange looking restaurant we find a toilet, cream teas and some great paintings. Two out of three is not bad and the paintings were very tempting.
On we journeyed and followed signs to the pottery. The sign took us down a small track that looked like it had hardly be travelled in weeks or months. This lace was in the he middle of nowhere. We had passed loads of school children on their way home, walking along the side of the road…they have miles to go, there are no buildings in sight whatsoever. Finally arriving at an overgrown space for a car or two, I hesitate to call it a car park, we think ‘what are we walking into?’ A sign in the garden as as we approach the run-down building said these flowers are not for picking. To me that looked neglected and taken over by weeds…..perhaps it was the natural look. Semi greeted by a dog and a black guy who said he wasn’t the potter and muttered something else, we began to look around this amazing place, stacked with pots and plates and vases and all sorts. None of it particularly outstanding but well crafted. It was dusty, dark, cobwebby ( is that even a word?). The till was in English Pounds, shillings and pence. Some cabinets housed pottery that wasn’t for sale. It was valuable and for show only. Movement. A man with long, grey, unkempt hair shuffled slowly in, aided by a frame. The potter. A very friendly, ageing hippy, who had bought acres of land years ago, planted 1000s of trees and plants, precious flowers and who was able to make a living in this now isolated spot. He had been instrumental in the development of the Midlands Meander which we would understand more about tomorrow. He seems to have lost out but he is enjoying his lifestyles, surrounded by his pots, enjoying his craft and really happy that somebody dropped by for him to talk to. He knew bits of the bible which he quoted, once he knew that I am a priest. I felt both sad and happy for this chap wondering how he will cope with his disability in an environment which he clearly cannot keep up to scratch yet he is content.

Our journey continues as we look for the place where we have booked for the night. We pass small groups of school children, still walking back to their homes and find the main road again. We are looking for a conference centre and see a sign and follow it, ending up in a place with some small huts surrounded by trees and bushes. Park the car. There is no one else around. Find our way to the reception where we are greeted with some surprise by the owner. His wife looks in her books for our name which isn’t there. They have no encore of our booking. This isn’t Everglades! We are in hot he wring place. They offer a room which we accept if we cannot find the place where we have a booking and return to the car slightly disappointed that we were leaving this magical place.
Several km further on we turned off the road onto a track. It was wide and well travelled, rocky in places and had many potholes. The track went on and on…..and on, and on……and on, and on. Every time we went round another bend Vi would say ‘really?’ Not believing the unending track that wound up and down round hills and valleys. We took it slowly, looking after the Polo whereas some cars and trucks zoomed past us. To be fair most were 4x4s, really the only vehicles that should travel this road. Everglades. This wonderful venue appeared before us after a good 30 minutes plus on this track. It was a collection of small cottages arranged on the mountainside, with a pool, gym, tennis courts all nicely kept. We found our rooms and were pestered non-stop by three dogs who just wouldn’t go away. They had no one else to play with, we were the only guests. We decided to go for a swim only to find that the pool housed a frog, had loads of leaves on top of the water, dirt accumulating on the bottom and not a great deal of chlorine to keep it hygienic. It was still tempting as we were hot and sticky but the showers were probably the safest option. Food was fantastic. We relaxed in the bar. To my surprises there was a full size snooker table. The sign said only experienced players were to use it, but upon inspection of the tears in the green baize obviously the experienced players had had a few too many drinks!! I wanted to play and Vi took up the challenge. She was pretty good and knocked in some wonderful shots.

20131202-111618.jpgI must admit I did get a bit worried that she might win at some stage. How could I explain that to the boys at home?! Thankfully her consistency let her down and I managed to pot a few balls.

Thursday
Breakfast consisted of a huge Knickerbockerglory glass of fruit, cereal, and cooked egg and bacon etc. this was a superb place to stay. I would recommend it if you are in the area. Returning down the track, which didn’t seem quite as long going back (why is that phenomenon so true?) we hit the main road and back onto the Meander. It wasn’t long before we arrived at Piggly Wiggly. I don’t have a clue why it’s called this but it’s memorable so it works. Piggly Wiggly is a collection of small enterprises, crafts and other shops runs by both whites and blacks selling top quality goods to the tourists like us. This is what the potter had influenced. These people have done well from it while he lives in comparative poverty. We, of course, don’t know all the details! Sheila was in heaven! Loads of indigenous crafts to buy! Coffee, toilets and off we go.
We drive further into the Drakensburg mountains, along some fine roads and some not so fine. Some seemed to have more pothole than smooth tarmac. Vi drove this bit!! The landscape was breathtaking, vista after vista. The road took us through a township finally leading us to a gate that leads us into the mountain park. They advised us that the caves were closed. Not knowing that there re any caves, this didn’t bother us too much. 7.5km along this road took us to a car park and a short walk to the reception and restaurant and lunch.
Vi couldn’t walk much so Sheila and I went to explore the pathways knowing that we didn’t have too long. It was scorchingly hot and this is when the snakes come out. Sheila saw one! Only to discover that it was a metal spike bent over to hold the steps in place. We had seen the Mortuary van in the car park and now met the police. Sheila thought they they were hunting animals with their guns!! What is she saying!? I thought. Talking to some others we discovered that a German tourist had died in the caves! whether it was a heart attack! diabetic fit or a fall we never found out. We felt sympathy for the man and his family. We walked back via the river…cold clear water.

20131202-111733.jpgIn the meantime Vi had been chatting up the waiter in the restaurant! And had a close encounter with a baboon by the car!

The journey home was made exciting by the ferocious electrical storm that followed us along the road. I’ve never seen so much lightening all around us for such a prolonged period.

Visiting Zululand

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If you are waiting for the theological input into this blog you’ll have to wait a few more days. The work starts after the holiday! So as not to prolong the travel blog I’ll squeeze two days into one. This day, whichever number, date or day it is…isn’t it strange how life changes from every minute being accounted for day by day, to not even knowing what day of the week it is?
The adventure begins after getting thoroughly confused with the beeping locking system on the Polo. The drivers door opens but the passenger ones don’t, then they do but the boot is locked, then they lock but some don’t open etc etc. it doesn’t take much to confuse me!! We’re off heading towards the valley of 1000 hills. We thought South Africa would be hot and sunny but today is overcast and cold. OK not cold by UK standards but cold enough!
Looking for a post office for Sheila became a theme for the next couple of weeks and it started today! Our first stop was for the post office which turned out not to be a post office, but we did find a sport shop where I bought a baseball cap and an electrical shop to buy an adapter. When the website said a three pin plug is used in South Africa of course I assumed that the UK three pin plug is the same as a South African one, but no. The pins area round here. Details. Details.
We continue in the rain up the Old Main Road, several kilometres later, not only had we taken a wrong turning….which became another theme of the next two weeks, starting today…….actually it was quite amazing as we saw some beautiful landscapes and glimpsed our first Township up close and personal on our own. This was the endless Assagay Road where we eventually took a U turn and went back to the Old Main Road. Ten minutes later we were in the Tourist Information office by the side of the road, following a U turn at the Pancake house! Three times we see to do that today!! Sorry we didn’t stop for a pancake.
Armed with more information we trekked onto Phezulu Safari Park. Here traditional Zulu dancers entertained us and one other family, sheltered in a large round half bowl arena. They told the story of how a man gets his wife, for the price of 11 cows….but it’s much more involved than just that. Following the performance we learnt how the Zulus organised their way of life. Small details like the men sitting on the left hand side so that they can throw a spear right-handed if there are any intruders. Presumably they had no left-handers?
They made their own beer which tasted much better than I expected.
Then to the crocodile park, a walk across the car park. Margaret showed us around. It was fascinating to see so many crocs up close. They are quite docile. I’m not sure if this is the best place for them, not much room to move. One croc had jumped the fence a few weeks ago and there was a gardener happily working alongside one crocodile.
Snakes. Many various kinds, some lethal, some not but all behind glass. Margaret let us into the cage with a python whom we were able to stroke!
Back along the road to some craft shops and lunch…via the Pancake car park! It was now pouring with rain. The puzzle maker man wasn’t there but his daughter did a good sales job on us!
We couldn’t just go straight home but had to go via the shops!
The accompanying pictures are on my camera (I can take some on my phone)….being quite old and without computer on these travels I can’t download them yet, so you’ll have to wait for the sideshow.

I accompanied Jill to her church home group in the evening while Sheila and Vi got up to no good shopping, this time online! Home group was great, a lovely bunch of people searching the scriptures, trying to unlock meaning and gain knowledge. I note again that English in the ESV is a bit awkward for reading aloud. I’m not sure if there’re were any remarkably new insights but a challenge, to be generous in light of the he cyclone that hit the Phillipines.

Sunday, a day of rest, November 10, day 5

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We needed a rest but wide awake in the hot sunshine for a 7.30 breakfast of grapefruit, muesli, toast and Rector-made and grown (but not in that order) marmalade. Off to St. Agnes Church for the 9.00 service. Beautiful road on the way under the lilac colour tree canopy, with the sun streaming through and alongside the railway (which is a steam train only used for tourists on Sundays for a short trip up and down a few miles of track).
The old church is dwarfed by the stunning new(ish) building that consists on and ‘auditorium’ and hall (with other accommodation). The children’s ministry will take place I the hall, there is a buzz of excitement although today the children will be in the monthly family service, that will be led by Greg Wynn, the Curate. We get introduced to a few people and I get roped in to helping with the children’s group next week (I guess I will find out what I’ve let myself in for in due course). The auditorium is huge, it’s like going on a conference rather than going to church. That’s a poor use of the he word church, which I’ll be reflecting on in a few days time……..suffice to say now that church is a verb not a noun! Church is a gathering of people, rather than a building. But as I said a more in depth explanation will be delivered soon.
The service is well led, it’s gentle, fun and great to be here. The theme is the gifts of the Spirit. When asked if she wanted the ‘charismata’ (gifts given by God through His generous grace ie, not given because we earn them or deserve them) the right answer was of course ‘yes’ but the sweet little girl just gave a very dramatic shrug of the shoulders. Perhaps this was a picture for the church as a whole? We can be so reluctant to accept what God wants to give freely to us. And if we accept the gifts, using them is another matter!!

OK so there was a bit of theological reflection in there!
Lunch back at Augusta (the estate where we are staying) where the braai (barbecue for the English) was lit. Nigel and Ruth arrive a bit later…the Rector (of marmalade fame) and his wife, together with a rather lively grandson. Conversation was the ‘getting to know you’ and ‘small world’ type as we realised that we both trained at St. John’s Nottingham.
Food delicious.
Walk around the estate, which includes a 9-hole golf course.
Plan for the coming few days and yes Sunday is a day of rest so off to bed we go, rather early!!

Moving on 9th November, day 4

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How to make the most of the time available? A question I often ask myself as I journey through life with pressing priorities. Today we have until lunchtime before flying onto Durban and a drive to Kloof. The remaining item on the agenda is a trip to Simonstown and the beach where penguins rule. Negotiations with the cab company resulted in a neat plan that many we didn’t have to return to the hotel but go straight to the airport. Prices agreed with the driver and no meter running felt good. Following the ample breakfast in a quiet dining room following the exit of the conference delegates last night, it was much more relaxed though habits and attitudes of different peoples are interesting. Some people can be so rude to the staff!

We thanked the staff who helped us and left in the awaiting black and white cab. Our new host reassured us that we would make the plane and take us on a journey of a lifetime! The first stop was Kalk Bay, a small fishing village apparent as we arrived in the car park adjacent to the harbour. Fresh fish adorned the quayside. I don’t know what type they are but they are big, and will make a huge meal for a family!!
And then we glimpsed the seals in the water, just a normal scene but for us it was something exciting for us, not quite what you’d see in Southend. One of the poor things had an injured back. I wonder if they go to the sea doctor? Idyllic little village but we move on. Simonstown was a bit disappointing, it is a big naval base but not much else of interest so we swiftly move onto the next beach car park.
We pay the entry fee and wander onto the beach. Not a penguin in sight! A couple of families laze on the super soft sand and one lady ventures into the crystal clear water in this small cove. Perfect, except there were no penguins. Then we realised that we were in the wrong place, so a short walk along a path where some people were intently staring into the bushes. There was a small penguin

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just standing there unperturbed by the attention he or she was getting. In through the gateway and along a boardwalk and there were 100s of penguins, cute small black and white creatures going about their daily business….well most of them were standing still. 100s of photos and videos later we waddled back to the cab.
Airport, via lunch in a supermarket….a bit surreal and confusing….through township after township. What’s defines a township? There seems to be some grey areas! Waiting….I wonder how much time in our lives we spend waiting?
Great flight in 50 seater South African Airways, comfy seats and more legroom than the long haul flights!

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Durban. We arrive and it’s dark and raining. There’s hardly anyone else around. We get the car, a VW Polo, a saloon, but no map. All we have is Mike’s instructions.
It’s now pouring and we embark on one of those tense journeys. New car. Dark. Rain. Tired. New roads. Different driving style. Thankfully, right hand drive. Just want to get there. The instructions were first class. The roads are wide but I can’t see any white lines. Are they masked by the surface water? No. There are hardly any! There are cats eyes, but not as many or as bright in the he UK. This is not a problem when the road is straight but the road takes many bends and the cats eyes seem all over the place. The traffic is quite heavy too so we go with the flow. With a few wobbles, 45 minutes later we find our way to the estate which will become our base, with grateful thanks to Mike and Jill….and of course God who graciously answered more prayers!!

From colours to numbers: Day 3 8.11.13 466.64

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Prayers were answered. Perhaps it was selfish of us to pray for clear skies so that we could see the top of Table Mountain, we prayed nevertheless. It wasn’t 100% clear but then answers to prayer aren’t always what we expect or hope for. The mountain was open. Our efforts to book the trip to Robben Island, to experience the place where Nelson Mandela was held for too long have been thwarted. No tickets remained for the single boat that takes 300 passengers at time. Advised to return 30mins before the boat was due to leave at 3pm for a cancellation was all we could hope for. 3 tickets? Unlikely. Putting this disappointment behind us the black and white cab took us to the launch pad of the cable car that would take us to the top of the 260 million year old distinctive flat topped granite mountain that dominates Cape Town. With about 50 other people and Vi firmly rooted in the middle of them the cable car rose swiftly and rotated completing 360 degree turn by the time we arrived at the top. Everyone receives a panoramic view….a nice touch!

The final lingering cloud had now evaporated, there were perfect views for 100s of kilometres.

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It was magnificent, being only 1085m, or 3559ft above sea level isn’t high by mountain standards but it was stunning. You could take several walks and spend a happy day up there but we has another agenda. Following a cup of coffee whilst watching the hungry birds swoop down and snatch at people’s food – rather disconcerting and traumatic for some, we took the cable car down and called for our taxi to return. 10 minutes he assured us. 30 minutes later we were still waiting but the time was used productively talking with Oswald, employed to welcome visitors and direct traffic today. He gave us great insight into the local culture and his perspective on South African life.

Lunch, then to the ticket office, Sheila went early. 300 places were still filled. 0 places remained. Sheila desperately enquired. Each of us silently praying we were beginning to lose hope as the 300 filed past us onto the waiting craft. Tim and Laura appeared offering 2 tickets, which we accepted, the trip was too long for them, they had to get back not realising that it would be over 3 hours long. Then we argued. Which 2 of the 3 of us should go. Sheila won. Vi and I hurried to join the disappearing queue. I am getting emotional recalling this event, even now. Vi and I found 2 seats. Desperate prayers for Sheila who wanted to visit this place so, so much! The prayer, the pleading worked as the official, aware of our plight, took pity and released 1 extra ticket. Vi and I didn’t know this until we saw Sheila rushing toward the boat. ‘There she is!’ Vi shouted out! And we all hugged and cried. I’m not sure even now why it provoked such emotion, but it did. This journey is about being together.

Nelson Mandela’s journey from Jetty 1 may have been equally emotional but off the scale in terms of difference to ours. A political prisoner, no. 466.64 was sent to the Island, a former leper colony, in June 1964 and remained there for 18 years when he was transferred to another prison. His cell, no. 4, was 2.4m x 2.1m (8ft x 7ft). Mandela’s isn’t the only story, by any means.

20131122-121950.jpgThe prisoners were kept in concrete cells in isolation for many hours.

The bus tour showed us the quarry where the prisoners worked and talked and educated each other, their motto ‘each one, teach one’…education being the basis of their survival and hope. Finally we were taken to the block where the prisoners were incarcerated. We were addressed by one of them. He spoke seriously and passionately about the conditions – it wasn’t all about Mandela – about their ideals and the apartheid regime of discrimination that broke basic human rights and attempted to break the human spirit and freedom and dignity that everyone deserves. I think everyone knew deep down that this discrimination was wrong. Pride doesn’t allow us to admit that we are wrong, even in small things sometimes. Perhaps we humans can learn from this.

The whole group silent, eerie, affected by the history and pain represented there that could still be felt as we viewed the cells, the yard and the remaining facilities.

The delayed boat trip back was quiet but once on the Waterfront again with 2 hours before the shuttle would whisk us back to the hotel we found somewhere to eat and got chatting to a couple from Portsmouth, who were shareholders in the football club….another reality!
The shuttle driver, also a football fan talked about Manchester United all the way back to the hotel. Football a universal language!

Day two remember 7 November the reality of contrasting colours

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How can you forget a day like this. Breakfast in a busy dining room, bursting at the seams with people. We wanted a table by the window to thankfully consume fresh fruit, cereal, full English breakfast, tea, coffee, more fruit, not to mention a slice of toast or two, whilst appreciating the view across the bay to Table Mountain.

    Red bus, blue route…black and white cab

Being cloudy today but with the promise of a sunnier day tomorrow we decided to have a whistle stop tour of Cape Town via the ‘topless’ bus…opting for the blue route round the back of the mountain rather than the red route around the city centre. The 9.30am departure from the hotel was chaotic as the shuttle that we booked could only hold 7 people (and it was impossible for it to make two journeys!) and at least nine others were booked on it. Having been nicely escorted to the bus while they sorted out the confusion we were politely told to get off, as our names had been put on the wrong sheet whilst the names of the seven others from the large conference being on the correct one took precedence. The poor chap that booked us on received the ‘Manuel’ treatment from ‘Basil’ whilst lots of muttering and booking of cabs for us to share with another bewildered couple.

We wanted to get underway, we had a bus to catch! A call via reception would get us a cab much quicker than the transport company could achieve….more discreet (ish) shouting down the phone – as it was the same cab company sending one quicker than the previous call – and of course two cabs turn up at the same time. We squeeze into one, share the cost with the other couple and find ourselves 20 minutes later standing on the Waterfront, with minutes before the next bus would depart.

Tickets were hurriedly purchased in the nick of time, only to be ushered by the bus company rep to take a quick group photo. It was at this point that the bus departed! In a very friendly manner, with huge smiles they just said, there will be another one in 30 minutes! Bah! More wasted time! Now, we could have become very angry, they were smiling and we’re on holiday, the sun is shining and we are supposed to be in a relaxed mood….and we are, albeit frustrated at the same time.

    White, rose and red

The bus takes us through the city, giving information through supplied red earphones, about the sites we pass. As it is a hop on, hop off arrangement, the first hop off was at a vineyard. The oldest, most historic one was another bus ride away so the nearer, walkable vineyard was much more to our liking….get there quick!! The gently rising path invited us to appreciate the unusual (to our eyes) and brightly coloured flowers and plants on the way to what is essentially a house. Minimalist. Modern. Exquisite architecture of concrete and glass jutting out from a rock base overlooking many hectares of neatly laid out vines, surrounded by hills and mountains. It brought back my days of architectural design. Frank Lloyd Wright. le Corbusier. Mies van de Rohe and others flashed through my mind provoked by the light, the furniture, the space itself, the unbelievable views. I just wanted to stay there. The space of course being enhanced by the three samples of wine that was being produced around us. Just 10000 bottles a year, of the most drinkable smooth white, rose and red, delivered by our friendly hostess. Even the toilet in this building was amazing! But we had to move on.

    Black and white issues

The bus took us to the contrasting next stop. The township of Imizamu Yethu (meaning ‘we strive’). The announcer tried hard to get the tourists to visit the township; only a handful of us actually made the effort. We wanted to understand the conditions, the reasons, experience for ourselves the sights and smells, meet real people, support them by our presence and perhaps for a brief moment stand alongside a few people with whom we cannot really, truly identify!

The senses took a knock! Half an hour ago, and within just a few kilometres we were basking in extravagance, now facing another reality, sheer poverty. Tiny cardboard, wooden and tin shacks, jammed in small spaces almost touching each other housed many thousands of people on government owned land. There’s a sense of helplessness, inevitability, anger and yet community. Historically, these indigenous people had been moved from the plush areas of their homes that have now become much sought-after, terribly expensive real estate, now occupied by white European descendants. The black Africans had no voice, no power and have been placed in these vast areas of squalor and poverty with little opportunity. Few facilities are available, though improvements are gradually being made. The people eek out a living from arts and crafts and maybe domestic or manual labour. Our guide, himself from the Township, is often quizzed why he takes tourists to the area. Some are suspicious of his motives while others see the value of the visitors visits. There just may be a trickle of hope that may change circumstances in years to come. And talking of hope, up the hill the church seems to be at the centre of the community, a place where people gather, dance, sell their crafts, supports those in dire need. A group of young girls practice their dance moves while our guide continues his explanations and answers questions. We feel compelled to help these folk, just a little bit by buying some of their well created wares…and we move on.

    All shades together

We walk along to the tea-bag factory. I was expecting this is where they make tea bags. What we experienced was out of this world! A project has been set up by Jill Heyes…… Watch the Video original tea bag designs
Even fewer people visited this most mind-blowing project that has helped so many people. One lady has been able to buy her own house from the money that she has made from this initiative. Many other’ lives are being changed! Please support it if you can. see the tea bag designwebsite

The remaining part of the bus journey took us through more very idyllic, expensive estates, this time on the coast alongside the beautiful beaches. One more stop by the beach and the World Cup stadium, memorable because of the huge waves crashing into the sea wall spraying the promenade and the joggers and soaking Sheila, but it was our emotions that took a pounding today, a day to remember.

PS when we finally returned the restaurant was closed due to the final evening of the he conference, so no meal there! Back to the Thai, wishing we had been given that information earlier. Great meal though followed by a long conversation with a Scottish couple who live in Pretoria, with a relaxing drink from the bar.