Naivasha

Other sights along the journey.

Naivasha Town.






The soil here is rich and fertile. Vegetables abundant.


Mount Longonot. A Dormant Volcano.


Ever seen a tree grow taller than clouds?



Unfortunately, some of these beautiful sights that [detox] your soul is taken away by the building of a dam.

-living-

placing myself in
the present that is
constantly seeking the future

dissloved. diluted. camofluged

blurred
boundaries [between]
was. is. and to be.

afloat
constantly going somewhere,
but where?

My Shoes. My Camera and My Journal.
This photo was taken on my last day in Cape Town.

The last 40 hours has been a test of patience. 

It started with a 27 hour train ride from Cape Town to Johannesburg that turn out to be 2 hours longer.. Although this formed the bulk of the long journey, i enjoyed the time on the train very much; nice sleeping cabin, a restaurant and a bar, and the beautiful sights of the South african landscape (I will write a separate entry about this sometime). but once we get to joburg, a city famous for its fast-pace lifestyle (as cape towners put it), has been a series of uncertain arrangements and time spent waiting. 

I now write this from a COMPAQ DESKPRO computer at my hostel, which has a two second delay before each word appears on screen. At this point, i have typed a full sentence, and there would be about half a minute wait before the sentence appears. i guess this doesn't only trains up my patience but also makes me a multitasker, for i have spent the waiting time, patiently nibbling on crackers, which has been the source of my energy for the past 2days.

6 hours ago, we arrived at the Joburg station, looking forward to a good hot shower and the array of facilities it boasts in the bagpackers guidebook- pickup serive, tennis court, pool, homecooked meals at the restaurant, a bar and pool table. angie and i craved for a nice warm meal, after not having eaten a proper meal for 2 days but decided to hold of food while waiting for the waiting for the pickup. it was a test of our determination, because the pickup venue was at a restaurant which served burgers and milkshakes, and not having eaten a proper meal in 2 days, we were very tempted. but we were patient. we waited for 2 hours for the taxi driver patiently, only to receive a call that asked us to get a taxi to the location, because of the bad traffic.

So we left the station, at 6.30pm, in the dark, looking for the taxi place, with my big bagpack, a yellow tote bag full of the supply of cracker, now lighter after we consumed most of it on the train, and my black rolling suitcase. as luck would have it, the taxi driver didn't know where the hostel was. he had a map and i looked the index of streets. the street name wasn't there. i was confused, because the hostel location was supposed to have a nightlife and restaurants nearby. the driver made two stops to ask the people on the roads, and finally drove down a long, deserted road; the only things that were in motion on the roads were the raindrops splattering onto the ground and the movement of the wipers.

it was disappointing to find that the location of the hostel was not what we had expected. and it made me even more impatient that the manager seemed not to care at all about our arrival (we had to ask another resident to find him and it took about 10 minutes before he came), about where we are sleeping and what we could do in joburg. We asked about the restaurant/homecooked dinner and got the reply that we had to make it ourselves (which means we had to get the groceries, an option that is impossible when there is not a single grocery store in its 5km radius). he gave us a delivery menu, which had 3 restaurant options. the first one we picked was out because they don't do take outs, the second out because we were 15 minutes late of the last time they deliver, the third was pizzas, which didn't appeal to us at all, after having junk food for 2 days. 

And so, I am now patiently typing this entry, with the last piece of cracker by the keyboard, soon to become the last thing i eat, probably in the next 12 hours. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Although the trip has been a long string of waiting and unexpected incidences, i am not pissed off by these as i would have been, if this happened 3 years ago.  i will probably laugh about it in the retrospect. At least angie is here with me and if we meet at all, in scotland again, i am sure we can get a few good jokes out of this trip!

Journey of Reminiscence

The 27 hour train journey was a window into my past memories of family and friends that I had not seen or spoken to in a long time.

Over the course of the train ride, I had conversations with Angie about how we had spent our childhood. I had listened to the songs on my IPOD, and looked at my family photo. When the train stopped at stations, which it did ever frequently, I wrote some postcards to friends at Carleton, and I was reminded of the good times I had in the small college in Northfield.

The rural landscape of the Western Cape, the Orange Free State and Guteng made me feel as if I were transported back in time... It was spectular:

Journey to Eastern Cape

This weekend, I followed a local photographer, Lindeka Gloria Qampi to a village, Bolothwa in Eastern Cape. The whole trip, from the start to the end is filled with adventures...

On the day we were to leave, I was still doubtful that I would be going on this trip. Lindeka did not return my call and it was 3pm on Thursday afternoon. I tried ringing her but all I heard was her voicemail. Then at 5pm, she called. "Come to Camera Land on Long Street and we leave at 7 tonight." I said ok, and asked how much I should bring and if I should bring my bag. She didn't give me an answer. It worried me, that I wasn't told about the journey 2 hours before we left. But I dismissed it as photographers being -chill-. And I wondered if this spontaneous planning is just part of a photographers' profession.

When we got to the bus station, she wasn't able to buy her ticket. Lindeka is part of the organization called Ilsolo Labantu Group, an organization that allows members of community in Townships (usually lower income groups) to practice and sell photography. And Lindeka's organization had not deposited money for her for this trip, and hence, she wasn't able to buy a ticket there. So we made an agreement that I would pay for her ticket there and that she would fund my return journey.

And so, we took a 12 hour bus ride, from Cape Town to Queenstown. On the bus, everyone was Xhosa. I stood out among these people and I wasn't able to understand. But with Lindeka and Phuywe (another member of Ilsolo Labantu) around, I felt safe. We got to Queenstown the next day at 8am and had time to stretch our legs before we boarded a mini-taxi to take us to Bholothwa, a village 30 minutes away from the town.

I enjoyed this half hour journey. It was dusk and the mountains casted shadows on the vast, plain grasslands. The sky was unbelieably blue. And at night, it was just dotted with stars. It was one of the most amazing night skies I have ever seen. I swear I could see the milky way then.

That night, under the starry sky, I enjoyed meat cooked in open fire, and African beer (which is made of maize and yeast), as well as the natives, who tried hard to teach me Xhosa. We were all sitting around a fire because it was cold and there wasn't heating or electricity. That night, I shared a bed with 4 other people; Lindeka, her baby, Phuywe, and Zizipho (a kid at the house we were staying in). Crammped as it was, I was thankful because that number of people sleeping there kept us warm. It was a true rural experience.

The next day, we saw an initiation ceremony and headed back to Queenstown.

I was getting worried of getting back to Cape Town by Monday monring as planned because Lindeka still had not received money for our return tickets. And so we spent a night at her cousin's place, waiting to check for the money the next day.

In the morning, I was greeted by the sight of Lindeka getting dressed. I thought she was going into town to check for her money but she said, "I am going back to the village because I forgot something. I will be back in the afternoon." With that, she left me and Phuywe at her cousin's place. Phuywe had told me how Lindeka tends to be unorganized and her sense of time. And I was getting worried that I would have to spend another day there, especially at a house where I didn't know the people well.

And so, I insisted to Phuywe that we left Queenstown by ourselves. She agreed. But in total we had 500 Rands of cash. I needed 400 to get to Cape Town, she needed the 100 Rands to get to her home. We were short of 12 Rands for the taxi ride to the bus station. In all my travel expereinces, I have never faced this situation where I was this tight on money.

But I decided to take a risk, and just get a taxi to town, hoping to find a bus service that sold cheaper tickets to Cape Town. And as luck would have it, Phuywe and I met 2 locals who were also headed to the bus station. He took us to the station which sold tickets for 350 rands. I bought those, and gave 100 to Phuywe for her trip. Saving money for the Taxi Ride when I get back to Cape Town, I had 18 Rands (USD 2.3) for my 12 hour journey. But I was just relieved to know that I would be getting back soon.

Phuywe waited with me until the bus came at 4pm, before she left for her village. The wait was 3 hours and I enjoyed those times. We just goofed around town, going into shops, and browsing. And speaking to this lady at a KFC shop who, with 10 chicken wings and a packet of fries, sat with us. I think the fact that Phuywe and I were so familar with each other just after 2 days surprised her. And it seemed to me, she was rather suspicious of us.

At other times, people asked in Xhosa to Phuywe, if I was her boyfriend! When she explained that I was a girl, one person said, "That's too bad. You would have been lucky if she was a guy and your boyfriend." The next time we were asked the same question, I asked her to say yes, to see how the people would react and they smiled at her. I had short hair and I was wearing track pants with a T-Shirt and a big bag pack on my back. So I am not surprised that I was mistaken for a guy. In fact, I think it worked to my advantage.

The bus came at 4 and I was relieved that I was finally settled in my seat, thinking aobut being home 12 hours later. But that wasn't the end of the story. The bus didn't leave until 5pm. And I was asked to move to another bus. And when I boared a second bus, a lady came to sit beside me and asked, "Hi HOw are you?" I replied the usual I am fine, but then she asked if I knew Lindeka. It turned out that this lady was also a member of the organization Ilsolo Labantu, and Lindeka has phoned her earlier. Lindeka was worried that Phuywe and I left, and I explained our situation and told her that we couldn't contact Lindeka.

As luck would have it, I got to know this lady, Lulekwa on my 12 hour return journey and heard about her interesting life story . Like me, she has been blessed by a series of good luck. If you are keen, you can read her biography at this website.

To end off the exciting turn of events, I saw two car accidents along the highway back to Cape Town. Both were bad. The cars had been smashed and turned upside down. It was as if I was reminded of how lucky I am to be alive and be back safely in Cape Town.

Bholothwa: A village 30 minutes away from Queenstown in Eastern Cape.



The photographers: Me, Phuywe, and Lindeka

This is the bed which I spent a night. I shared it with 4 other people, as you can see in the photo (Lindeka, her baby, Zizipho, and Phuywe). It was crowded but at least it was warm.



Hitch Hiking is not uncommon in South Africa. You just have to hold up a cardboard with some code letters. And offer the driver some cash, usually 75% of what a normal ride would cost.

The journey (30 July 09)

“Are you ready for an exciting adventure ahead?” I received this message as I was waiting in line to check my baggage in, at the MSP international airport. Ahead of me lies a 24 hour journey to the southern tip of the African continent.

“With an apple in my bag and a credit card in my wallet? Absoluetly yes,” I replied, “I just have to mentally prep myself on the 24 hour journey ahead.” The day of travel was tiring, but I was thankful for the movie service on both flights (MSP to Amsterdam and then onto Cape Town). On the flight to Amsterdam, I sat beside an Italian woman, who was rather quiet, so I spent my time watching movies instead.

On the second flight, I felt more self-conscious, because almost everyone there looked like… a European. The plane was boeing 777 and it was full; perhaps close to 400 passengers. But there was one East Asian, an African and an Indian couple. That was it.

Those around me spoke either Dutch or German. I couldn’t tell. The dominance of whites that have the privilege to travel to and from the land of black origins made me wonder if this is a prelude to the many socio-economic disparities along racial lines. These would become more apparent as I spend the next 2 months in this country.

The snowflakes that formed on the window by my seat. (Flight from MSP to Amsterdam).

At the Amsterdam Airport where I had a 3.5 hour Lay Over