What do you do?

This is the question I keep asking myself.

I asked it 4 or so days ago when I and some others were on foot, deep in the bush, and just a few dozen feet from a herd of rhinoceros. The answer: run up the first tree you see. Fortunately we didn't have to do this, but as the wind shifted and their heads turned our way, my heart thudded in my chest. We hightailed it out of there.

I asked it when I got stuck in the mud again outside of Harrismith. The answer: jump up and down in the back of the bucky (pickup truck). Hope the wind doesn't shift so the rhinos don't come your way.

I also asked it today when we toured the squatter camps and township that is part of Bethlehem, Free State. We must have passed at least 4 or 5 tents that were being raised for funerals that will occur this weekend. We were told that in any given weekend in this township there are between 40-80 different funerals. What did I do? I felt like a jerk taking pictures of barefoot hungry children. When I toured a shack built in the squatter camp I surreptitiously left money on a table for the single umemployed woman with 3 children who opened her home to us. I cried at the daycare for AIDS orphans, even when they were singing and dancing for us. A social worker told me that only 50% or so were infected with HIV.

I ran into a miner the other day in Lesotho who asked me what the good news was from America. He asked me what answers America had for the problems in Africa. I told him that I wasn't sure what the answers were and that I didn't trust anybody who claimed to have the answers. He then tried to get my cell phone number. Everybody wants to come to America.

So what do you do? I will be working on this one for a while.

Mud and such

I'm not sure where to begin....since the last post have visited Graaf-Reinet, Colesburg, and am now in Ladybrand.

Have been so ridiculously busy that I haven't had a moment to blog, to journal, or even to rest. Just yesterday our team was faced with the decision: to journal about our adventures or to create new adventures?? But, since we are a hardy (perhaps foolhardy bunch) we decided to use our few hours of free time before our big Rotary club presentation to set out on an unscheduled trip to a game park. Carol, Paul, and I decide to go while Jerry and Barb decide to stay and have a peaceful (and much needed) rest in the chalet. With the full understanding that we were confused Americans, had no international driving licences, didn't know where we were going, and so forth, a local Rotarian offered the use of her car--scratch that--she insisted we take her car. The car is (was) a lovely white leather-upholestered Mercedes, actually owned by her father-in-law. At the last moment two other South Africans decide to join us and we make our way, slowly, down the dirt road to the game park. We had a nice time viewing the scenery, spring bok, eland, kudu, ostrich, and other bok-ish type creatures. We took a lot of pictures. But the light begins to get darker and we realize we need to head back to the natuer reserve where we were staying so we could prepare for our presentation.

Unfortunately the game park is a bit, uh, undeveloped, and the roads are confusing and of course there is no map. We take a few turns in which the roads are rough and we manage to turn around, but the mud seems to be getting thicker and soupier as we plow through the velt. Paul, who I could now describe a realistic fellow, voiced the opinion that perhaps we should turn around and come back the way we came but really the road looked passable to me. As an older and wiser person now, I am happy to report that I am far too optimistic. We make our way down the road until...whhhhiiiirrr....our wheels get stuck in the mud. After endless pushing and pulling, mud to the knees, some movement of the car both forwards and back, and my first up-close-and-personal experience with a dung beetle, the reality sets in. A freezing wind is whipping up and a huge thundercloud is bearing down upon us. After a lot of skillful driving on the part of Paul and Carol and some seriously dirty pushing, we have managed to move the car halfway off of the road to a drier area off to the side but while our front two wheels are free, the back two are subsumed.

Is it necessary for me to mention that we are completely alone in this park? There is no security station or hoardes of Japanese tourists. We are WAY off the beaten path and miles outside of a town of only 12,000 people. But modern technology has snaked its fingers deep into the hert of SA--one of the Rotarians in the car has a cell phone (praise Jesus!) Being stone deaf and not knowing his own cell phone number, however, he is not a very good negotiator of services and we are told that we are to abandon the car and make our way to an abandoned air field some kilometers away. The rescue team does not want to risk getting stuck in the mud and trapped in the park overnight during the storm. The rescue team!!! But we quickly decide this is not an option--the bitingly cold wind and rain are increasing at a rapid rate, the entire route to the airfield is a muddy swamp that would have been impassable for two of our passengers, we fear leaving a borrowed Mercedes at the mercy of bandits deep in the Karoo, and--for God's sakes--we are unarmed and unexperienced foreigners surrounded by dangerous and unknown African animals! Together, we think over our options and count our money--we have over a hundred American dollars but this apparently is not enough of a persuasive bribe. After some serious negotation and multiple phone calls we finally convince some man by the name of Johannes to send out Hannes and his team. We are told it will take 30 minutes.

We continued huddling in the car and dripping mud onto the leather seats. We are seriously late for our presentation.to our hosting Rotary team. We wait 30 minutes, then 40. The minutes tick by. Finally, out of nowhere a welcoming light shines on the horizon. I can't quite express to you what I felt at the time, so I won't try. But the fact that we were saved in record time in rural SA, without spending a single American dollar and without a single injury (besides to our egos and my sense of cleanliness) felt like a miracle. The Mercedes is quickly pulled out of the muck. We happily rewarded Hannis the rescuer with Texas paraphernalia and lots of Rand. The car is absolutely trashed--covered in muddy handprints and splattered inside and out with goo. We then drove around the worst of the muck and slowly made our way back out of the park on the long long muddied roads. Needless to say, the rescue team closely followed.

After a lot of confusion about which side of the road to drive on, fear of roaming kudus, the South Africans expressing shock at the idea that all along we had no international driving license(?!), another car breaking down, and some frantic scrubbing of the fetid mud and dung in the shower, we made it to our presentation to a wide round of applause and...two local newspapermen looking for the scoop. The embarrasing tale of the Texans stranded in the mud of the Karoo may make first page, but we will be saved some dignity as the details of our exploits will only be spelled out in Afrikaans!

East London and Grahamstown

Wow. After a ridiculously long journey I finally arrived in East London SA on Monday afternoon. Was then quickly shuffled off to a welcoming reception. I was pretty out of it but when talking to the Rotarians I heard a lot of "lovely! lovely!" "wonderful! that's fan-taaassss-tic!" and also numerous "cheerios."

But I really knew I was in Africa when, the next morning at 5:30 a.m. I was jolted awake by the loud scary sound of "Craww-ahhh!" "Craww-ahhh!" I sat up straight in bed and thought my life was in danger; it sounded like an psychotic crow the side of a dog. I listened for it again and only heard tweeks, chrips, and tweet-tweets...sounds of birds that I never before imagined. I found the culprit of the sound later...a crowned hornbill.

Have already had the most amazing trip of my life. We are being treated like dignataries everywhere we go and my hosts have been fan-taaaassss-tic. Although this is only the conclusion of my second full day, I have already been to an AIDS clinic and its affiliated daycare, visited a hospice, toured 2 cities, visited a medical supply program, been on the Nahoon river, walked on the beach of the Indian Ocean, had a private tour by an accomplished naturalist on a nature consevation trail where homo sapiens sapiens footprints from 130,000 years ago have recently been found, drank a lot of South African wine, had a private tour of the South African Insitute of Acquatic Biodiversity (third largest fish collection in the world) where I saw an albino great white shark and a coelacanth (an ancient fish from millions of years ago aonce thought to be extinct), had fresh pineapple juice on the side of the road, eaten wonderful food, and talked to a zillion different people. I have had some wonderful conversations about health, medicine, politics, and race with many people and also have had the opportunity to talk about cervical cancer and other cancer related issues with an oncologist and the hospice director and also about AIDS with just about everyone I meet.

Drove in a double cab buggie today from East London to Grahamstown. (That's an extended cab truck.) I'm happy to report that after that experience I'm still alive. Amazing! We drove from East London, a very English town on the Indian Ocean, to Grahamstown, the home of Rhodes University and zillions of boarding schools hosting students from across the continent. East London was tropical, lush, and had amazing biodiversity while the road to Grahamstown was hilly and scrubby--sort of like the Hill Country of Texas but more dramatic. Saw numerous townships along the way...like shanty towns with small buildings made of corrugated tin, some of concrete. They all had electricity but not sewage or water.

Many things here are the same but so many are different. The blacks who live in these areas are Xhosa and many of the Rotarians have Xhosa "domestics." I am trying to master the 3 types of clicks they use in their language.

Tomorrow we are visiting a school in the "no-man's land" between Grahamstown and its township that aims to rehabilitate street children. I spoke a long time with the woman in charge of the program today...she faces incredible obstacles the likes of which I can't even comprehend. Many of these children have been abused, are malnurished, have fetal alcohol syndrome, are drug addicts and some of the girls have been gang-raped at young ages. Then we tour the township itself. Later on we will get a tour of the city led by SA's tour guide of the year.

Homes here all have fences and bars on windows and doors. Everybody has dogs. A series of doors are in place inside the homes and are locked at night. There is a high level of security but at the same time they don't seem afraid. Crime is a way of life and most people have been robbed.

Well, I have to sign off as it's late and I have tons to do tomorrow. Cheerio!