Today is a day without classes! Much as I enjoy the classes, is it ever a release to have a free day! You see, at sea, we have day A followed by day B followed by day A ad infinitum. No day off. Nothing the equivalent of a weekend. Just a steady repetition – A–B-A-B- etc, etc, till we come to the next port. So this morning I felt almost sinfully free – nothing that I had to do. So a group of us met for a yoga session, then I had a leisurely lunch with friends; and lunch was a special - ‘TACOS’, with all the trimmings! Now I am back down in the cabin ‘talking’ to you. Very nice. I don’t have to lug all this upstairs to the computer room, as I have already downloaded all the pictures and so I can compose away offline, to my hearts content. It’s comfy and QUIET. Bliss.
So back to Cape Town. Back on the ship after our wonderful trip up Table Mountain, it was time to get ready for the theatre. We had been lucky enough to get tickets for the Athol Fugard play ‘The Train Driver’. Some of you may recognize the author’s name. Maggie and George were in a play by him, ‘The Road to Mecca’ in the Robinson several years ago. ‘The Train Driver’ was a very thought provoking play, and very well acted. Basically it was about a white train driver who had watched helplessly, as his train ran over a young black woman and her baby who had stood on the tracks to commit suicide. The play was basically a conversation between the driver and the black grave digger at the cemetery where the woman had been buried. It was almost a monologue by the white man, although the grave digger had some very powerful moments. I look forward to talking to those of you who would like to do this when I get home.
The evening was made the more special, because we met up with Jo. She had arranged a special African holiday to coincide with Maggie’s arrival at Cape Town. It was GREAT to see Jo again. Then we all with other friends went out for dinner to an “African” pub. Was it ever African!! Oh the drumming!! Wonderful!! But speech was nigh impossible. Actually it was HEARING any speech that was impossible. But it was a true ‘African’ experience and I would not have missed it.
The next day we had an all-day trip with the same two friends who had been with us on Table Mountain. Lyn and Mark are good company. We arranged for this trip from the dock beside the ship. It was down to ‘Cape Point’ the most south westerly point in Africa. The trip included a short boat ride to seal island, to a place where penguins make their nests, to an area crowded with baboons and to an ostrich farm. As usual the attraction of seeing the animals was equalled, by the sheer beauty of the places we drove through. Let our photos take over here.
%^#@#$ – yes – unprintable language. The photos taken on just that trip haven’t been transferred from the camera to the computer. So I will carry on with the narrative, and send you the photos on a later date.
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We were now at day three of our South Africa stay and here we left the ship for a trip up into the wine lands. Maggie and George had already booked a house for themselves and Jo and a couple of other friends, one from Dundas, and one, a very old friend of Maggie’s who now lives in Kenya. Audrey and I had booked a B&B nearby. All this was done from Hamilton – months ago. Oh the wonders of modern technology.
George had rented a car, so earlyish, we set off from the docks. Before we left Cape Town we detoured to visit the school that Maggie went to during the war. (Both she and I had many precious moments of connection with our past during this Semester@Sea). Here is a picture of Maggie and her long-time friend on the steps of the school, and one of Audrey and me under the huge trees in the grounds.
I’ve just noticed that I still have the ship-board tag hanging around my neck. – Oops.
Then we were on our way to Franschoek, the little town in the heart of the winelands. Once again I was overwhelmed by beauty, both natural and man-made. Franschoek and the surrounding fields of vines, are nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains. Here are Audrey and me standing just across the road from our B&B.
Just look at those flowers. The couple who ran the B&B were the nicest people I have met for a long time. Marcia and Wessel. Their names suggest that they were originally from Boer stock, but their English was perfect. They had three children, all at the nearby University. Meeting them all definitely added to the happiness of our visit.
Here is the little house across the road with its thatched roof; there were lots like this in Franschoek.
We stayed two nights here. So what did we do? George drove us up into the surrounding hills for the views. ( Wouldn’t that be just the time when the camera ran out of batteries) But the views were breathtaking and I have the memory of them firmly in my mind. And we visited the wineries – even went winetasting. That was a first for me. Living right in the Niagara wine-growing area I have never been to a wine-tasting! It was fun . Most of the wineries had lovely little cafes attached where we could sit, relax, and enjoy a light meal.
This photo was taken at just such a lunch, but mainly to mark the multiple purchase of identical hats bought at that winery!
That was the winery I fell in love with, not with the winery but with the place. It was called Boschendal, and the original family home from the seventeenth century was still standing. It was open to the public. It was furnished with old furniture which was soo beautiful. I was carried away! At one point in its history it was the home of Cecil Rhodes.
Here is Audrey sitting in the cafe. The building in the background was the old slave quarters.
So we look back at a time when there were two worlds; a white world of beauty and privilege and a black world of slavery. And here in South Africa there are still two worlds. Yes, Apartheid is over, but there is still the white world with beautiful towns such as Franchoek, and parts of Cape Town that we drove through where every exclusive home was surrounded by high barb-wired walls, connected to security forces which answer alarms in armoured vehicles. And then we drove past the townships where homes were shacks, roofs were corrugated iron and sanitation left more than a lot to be desired. The South Africa I saw was beautiful but scary. What is going to be the answer? It is easy to say that much more of the wealth and power must filter down to the Africans, the blacks. But the whites are Africans too. Some of their ancestors have been here for hundreds of years. And it was they who created the wineries and saw to it that the land was tended. I remember, as I am sure you do David, how after the land in Kenya was taken from the whites and given to the blacks, great areas of the rift valley were divided and subdivided till it looked like fields of allotments. Gone were the great thriving plantations. It made me think back to when I was directing Brecht’s ‘Caucasian Chalk Circle’ at McMaster. In the Prologue (which we didn’t do) officials are debating how the land should be redistributed after a local war; given back to the old nobility or to the peasants? The conclusion was that the land should be given to those who would care for it best. It is the land that matters. That is an interesting thought for me to ponder as I now sail up up the west coast of Africa to Ghana.
lots and lots of love
Liz, Mum, Granny
oops, nerarly forgot. A promise that more pictures will follow in AFRICA 3!
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