Returning to South Africa for a ten day visit re-established my fickle feelings for this country of my birth and childhood. I yield to its seductive power, but, like a
disinterested lover who can only offer superficial satisfaction, it leaves me exasperated. It’s always with much joy that I purchase
my plane ticket. The anticipation of reuniting with people I love and going on
game drives and eating Mum’s food fires me up. But almost as soon as my plane touches down, apprehension seeps
into my abdomen.
This June, midwinter in South Africa, as the plane descended, I looked out the window at the desolate landscape of the Highveld. So evocative of the landscape of my childhood winters in Ladysmith. It made me think about all that is wrong with this country. (When I
At passport
control I gleefully went to the line for foreign passport holders. I felt
foreign to my very core. This country was never mine, even when I lived here.
As a child I was taught to hate my brown skin, to feel ashamed of my cultural
ancestry, to be embarrassed about my uneducated community. The nation’s orange,
blue, and white flag, proudly waved by supporters of the ruling National Party,
represented oppression and hatred. Up to the age of 23 I never experienced what
it was like to be a member of the mainstream. We, Indians, lived in the shadows.
Isolated from the whites who were the “true” citizens. And isolated from the black majority,
natives of this land that they loved, but from which they’d been disowned. From
my inferior place in the shadows I watched, like a curious visitor, the “true”
South Africans living proper lives. Enviously, I watched them shop at expensive shops like Ackerman’s,
and eat at fine restaurants. These “real” South Africans played rugby, and went
on beach holidays, and lived in lovely houses on clean, tree lined streets. The
mainstream media carried their stories, and advertisements targeted their
lifestyle needs. Meanwhile, I, along with my community, lived in our own space
And so I resume my visitor role in this country. The line at passport control is exasperatingly long. Americans, Europeans, Asians, people from the Middle East, and people from all over the African continent - a rainbow of nations -here to visit the Rainbow Nation. The handsome African man
who stamps my passport welcomes me warmly, and I shrug off my bitterness. Decades
have past. It’s been the New South Africa for a while. Nelson Mandela’s picture
greets me on my way to the baggage carousel. My chest swells with pride. In silence I shout out to all who have just arrived in the country: Dear Overseas Visitor, are you noticing how modern and clean and beautiful this airport is? This isn't really Africa you know. It's South Africa.
Johannesburg
My darling sister is waiting for me in the arrivals lounge. Familiar sounds - Zulu expressions, South African English, Afrikaans - mingle, make me smile. Outside, the sun, reliable as ever, is shining out of the great blue African sky. I sniff the dry air, and smile at everyone. I love being here.
From the airport we drive onto a modern freeway passing the tapestry of contrasting scenes that form South Africa's landscape. Shabby tin shacks, then rows of little government project homes, then elaborate gated communities, then more shacks. The third world right alongside the first world. We drive through the policed gates of my sister's estate, entering an artificial haven where kids can ride their bikes on quiet roads and front doors can stay wide open. As we drive past Tuscan villas in grandly landscaped gardens, I am reminded of Europe during ancient times when the privileged lived within the walls of a city, protected from the riffraff. But who am I to criticize? I have my own walls - the Atlantic and the Pacific - which keep me secure.
After a shower and rest my sister whisks me off to an amazing food market. We go to the Honeydew Shopping Center just a few minutes drive from her place for an absolute trip of the senses. Imagine a more jazzed up Whole Foods and Waitrose. Greater variety, larger quantities, more sensibly priced, and primarily locally sourced. (To be fair, most of South Africa's produce tends to be locally sourced.) Well, you would get this Food Lover's Market, which frankly, is a tad pretentious. Take a look at this photo, for example:
Even though it's midwinter the variety of produce is staggering. Shopping at upscale food markets is one of my things, but in South Africa the familiarly unique foods makes this activity even more entertaining. Huge butternut squashes, enormous bunches of dark green chard, oranges in big red sacks, gem squashes, flat round pumpkins, beans of various shapes and colors ... In the dessert section I can't make up my mind whether to get milk tart or malva pudding. Breakfast rusks fill up several shelves. I select the healthiest muesli rusks. The bakery section displays every type of bread imaginable - rye, multigrain, wholewheat, white - freshly baked and still warm. Further on - ripe, creamy cheeses from Simonsberg and sharp, hard ones from Bergville. And yes, many more from abroad. Got to have gorgonzola from Italy and Wenseleydale from England to satisfy the clientele! In the dairy section there's ready made custard, along with various yogurts and fresh creams. Exercising superhuman willpower, we take home groceries for just three days.
Ah yes, lekker to be "home" again. Immersed again in sights and smells and sounds that my senses know so well, a warm feeling spreads throughout my being. Weaver birds, raucous hadedas, Afrikaans, Zulu, cricket news, papayas in the fruit basket, guava juice, Sunlight soap - why does such primal familiarity make me so happy?
Pam, my sister, starts dinner preparations - roti and soya shrimp in a spicy tomato sauce. She asks me to select a wine from their wine cabinet. I choose a Delheim Cabernet Sauvignon. Years ago Daryl and I learned, on a visit to the Delheim Wine Farm in Stellenbosch, that they'd been making wine for over three hundred years. The Cab I pour myself is a 2008. I sniff its powerful aroma. Very promising. I let it breathe. My niece, Kimi, shows off some new dances she'd learned at her Saturday morning dance class. Outside, winter darkness has settled over Johannesburg. Back in the land of my childhood with people I love and who love me, I feel content.
The next day we drove to the Lion and Rhino Game Park just outside Johannesburg. From Pam's Honeydew home, it was a mere twenty minute drive. Quite unbelievable how quickly we could escape the built up city and enter the wilderness. It turned out to be a truly rewarding day.
Midwinter is widely know to be the best time to view game. On the highveld, as this area is known due to the land lying on a plateau, the vegetation is sparse. It's the savannah - with tall grasses and scattered flat topped acacia trees. No rain in winter results in dried up grass. (Summers here are wet, with frequent electric storms and the vegetation then is quite dense) So we saw wildlife pretty much the whole time we were in the park. The herbivores - eland, gemsbok, blesbok - were everywhere. We also saw lots of ostriches and Cape bison.
But, of course, seeing lions is really cool. From the car we were able to see them quite easily. It was midday and a family was feasting on a fresh kill. A male lion rested away from the pride, a satisfied look on his face.
This park is small and easy to drive through. Helpful signs lead you to the various sections where you are likely to see the bigger game. We saw wild dogs resting beside the road. Then a short while later we saw a cheetah through the grass. Further on we saw another cheetah more clearly.
Driving on we spotted rhinos right in the middle of a "made for a movie" African scene. Ostriches, blesbok, gemsbok, and Cape bison dined alongside a mother rhino and her infant. Flat topped thorny acacia trees dotted the bare landscape The sky, cloudless and deep blue, formed a pretty contrast to the browns. In this beauty, this tranquility, I felt like a native again.
Later, we were surprised to spot white lions lying in the grass. I'd never seen white lions in the wild before. They are really magnificent. Before leaving the park, close to a lake, we saw some hippos.
It was quite the day for photographs. Ah ... seductive Africa! How gratifying to be on your precious soil.
Ah yes, lekker to be "home" again. Immersed again in sights and smells and sounds that my senses know so well, a warm feeling spreads throughout my being. Weaver birds, raucous hadedas, Afrikaans, Zulu, cricket news, papayas in the fruit basket, guava juice, Sunlight soap - why does such primal familiarity make me so happy?
Pam, my sister, starts dinner preparations - roti and soya shrimp in a spicy tomato sauce. She asks me to select a wine from their wine cabinet. I choose a Delheim Cabernet Sauvignon. Years ago Daryl and I learned, on a visit to the Delheim Wine Farm in Stellenbosch, that they'd been making wine for over three hundred years. The Cab I pour myself is a 2008. I sniff its powerful aroma. Very promising. I let it breathe. My niece, Kimi, shows off some new dances she'd learned at her Saturday morning dance class. Outside, winter darkness has settled over Johannesburg. Back in the land of my childhood with people I love and who love me, I feel content.
The next day we drove to the Lion and Rhino Game Park just outside Johannesburg. From Pam's Honeydew home, it was a mere twenty minute drive. Quite unbelievable how quickly we could escape the built up city and enter the wilderness. It turned out to be a truly rewarding day.
But, of course, seeing lions is really cool. From the car we were able to see them quite easily. It was midday and a family was feasting on a fresh kill. A male lion rested away from the pride, a satisfied look on his face.
Later, we were surprised to spot white lions lying in the grass. I'd never seen white lions in the wild before. They are really magnificent. Before leaving the park, close to a lake, we saw some hippos.
It was quite the day for photographs. Ah ... seductive Africa! How gratifying to be on your precious soil.
Settling into a state of complacency in South Africa is unfortunately quite impossible. Everywhere you go you still see blatant evidence of a hierarchical society based on race. Yes, there is a significant black middle class. But in the upmarket stores, and malls, and restaurants, the clientele is still predominantly white. All middle class homes still have full time maids and gardeners who are deferential to their employers, addressing them as "madam" and "baas". There is such wide spread poverty and people resort to all sorts of heartbreaking ways to earn money. Car guards in parking lots make sure nobody breaks into your car. At busy intersections people try to sell drivers the newspaper or fake designer apparel. Produce vendors set up stands wherever they can. You are constantly reminded what a struggle life is for so many people.
The big news item was Nelson Mandela in critical condition in a hospital. Everyone expected him to die any moment. Newspaper reporters were camped out near his hospital. Cautious announcements about his health were made by President Zuma. Another big news item was the anticipation of a visit by President Obama. It was interesting to observe how South Africans felt about Obama. Protest groups planned marches to demonstrate their resentment of America's imperialism.
Pam was determined to show me a good time in Johannesburg, so my three days here were really wonderful.
Ladysmith
Pam, Kimi, and I make the four hour drive through the barren winter landscape to our hometown. Immersed in the scenery of my childhood - the sad, empty Klip River (which used to be a proper river when I was a kid), the gentle hills spiked with acacia trees ringing the town's perimeter, the lighthouse perched on the highest downtown hill - I feel the prison walls close in on me again. In Mum's garden the skeletal deciduous trees conjure up the oppression of my conservative community - a childhood of prison walls within prison walls.
Mum is in such ecstasy to see me. Surrounded by love, and bonding with the new generation - Cayden. Shreyan, and Kimi - cheers me up. These kids attend integrated schools, travel, read, are comfortable with iPads and laptops, and interact with adults who have traveled the world. Progress has been made.
Despite some heavy duty remodeling projects going on, I had a lovely time in my two days in Ladysmith. I ate well (an aromatic biryani tops the list), spent quality time with Mum and other close family members, and read Greek Myths to Kimi and Cayden. An unusual heatwave in the middle of winter enhanced the pleasantness.
 |
| Umhlanga Beach |
Umhlanga
After Ladysmith we escaped to the Durban area for a few days at a beach resort. Pam reserved a spacious apartment on the beach so we could enjoy quality time together in a gorgeous setting. Well, this was just the most civilized idea, if you ask me. Leaving the dry interior and entering the lush subtropical coast was like hearing a Mozart symphony after hours of a jarring sledgehammer. From the open plan kitchen, dining room and living room we had sensational views of the boisterous Indian Ocean. Oh yes, those enormous waves roll across like monsters, crashing on sand that is worthy of the adjective "golden". We were in the middle of a stretch of hotels and vacation apartments lining the coast. Between the buildings and the beach a paved promenade stretched for miles and miles all the way into Durban's waterfront area. We hung out on the beach, strolled along the promenade, devoured delicious meals, lazed about on the terrace, and generally just enjoyed being together. The weather was pleasantly mild - except for the day we arrived when we had the mother of all electric storms!Umhlanga has a fine assortment of restaurants. On our first day here we had the local specialty - bunnies. This South African Indian dish is basically a spicy curry in hollowed out bread - like a bread bowl. Many Indians live in the Durban area and they have a reputation for being outstanding cooks - justifiably so in my opinion. The bunny I had - broad beans and vegetables - was so good I couldn't stop eating. I spent the next hours feeling like a large rock had lodged itself in my tummy.
 |
| Phuket Thai Restaurant |
Another great food discovery I made was this incredible Thai restaurant right in the middle of the very cute downtown area. I found it while wandering past the lively cafés and bars. It was winter break for the school kids in South Africa so this resort town was quite busy. Anyway, I had lunch at Phuket Thai and boy, was I impressed! First of all, the coconut based sauce had a perfect consistency - neither runny, nor too thick. And the spicing was clear evidence that a master chef ran the kitchen. Secondly, the tofu dish had a variety of vegetables all cooked just enough to preserve the color and crunchiness. Wow! I raved about it afterwards and the next day Risha and Pam bought take out from here. They too were equally blown away.
And on the topic of meals, I should mention another unforgettable dinner I had. Mum's sister Angie, and her family came over to see us. They brought along some seriously tasty curries and roti. While enjoying this lekker meal Angie told me all about her trip to Australia last Christmas. It was her very first plane flight ever, and the only foreign country she'd ever visited. Boy, was she stoked about this trip!
In Umhlanga a highlight for me was getting up early in the morning to watch the sun rise over the Indian Ocean. In South Africa it's never a problem awakening early because squawking hadeda birds work like alarm clocks. From our apartment's large terrace the view was perfect. Surprisingly, it was actually quite a busy time of day. Just across from our apartment I could see many surfer dudes bobbing in the water. The surf here is legendary, and with both air and water temperatures pretty mild, it's a surfer's paradise. The promenade was also busy with people in fitness attire power walking in the cool of the early morning.
Here, in Umhlanga, you see posh hotels, clean beaches, upscale restaurants with generic western menus, and all the people on vacation are white. You could be in America or Europe. Then you see a family of monkeys hovering close to balconies, waiting for that opportunity to dart in and help themselves to fruit from the fruit bowl. And you know this is Africa. Exotic Africa.
Umhlanga's white vacationers who are serviced by blacks is a sobering reminder that even after twenty years of a post apartheid government, the country has made so little progress toward integration. Of course, it's hardly surprising. Twenty years ago when Nelson Mandela became the first black president after the country's first free elections, the vast majority of adult blacks were illiterate, living in various levels of poverty. Due to the design of apartheid South Africa, black families rarely lived together in the same home. A forced dysfunctionality had its expected consequences. Today's black adults were the traumatized children of those unfortunate families, and to expect them to suddenly blend into the middle class mainstream would be naive. Yes, there have been lots of good changes. Some things are better. Some are worse. Overall, though, I feel hopeful. Today's black kids go to school. The universities are overwhelmingly black. How could it not get better?
But after years of living abroad I do find it quite disconcerting to see the country of my childhood still so divided. I find the government's inefficiency and corruption even more distressing. South Africans are not proud of their president, squirming at newspaper photos of President Zuma beside President Obama.
President Obama's South African visit received much (positive) press coverage. It was heartwarming to watch him give his main speech from the UCT campus with my family. We chuckled at his references to Nando's and the group Freshly Ground.
Pam, Risha, Mum, and I spent an indulgent evening at Mangwanani African Spa at the Sibaya Casino which was a ten minute drive from our apartment. This was an evening of sheer luxury. First you get into a robe and slippers, then get seated at a table in the classy dining room. African décor and music provide the desired ambience. A cocktail and appetizers are served. Then you get escorted into a cubicle in a very African style rondavel where a masseuse offers you a choice of oils for the massage of your life. Forty five blissful minutes later you are back in the dining room for a sumptuous meal. On the menu was potjiekos - a South African stew loaded with vegetables and herbs and spices, prepared on a big cast iron three legged pot over a wood fire. The superb stew was served in miniature three legged pots. For drinks we decided to live it up and have champagne. Mum found this level of luxury a bit bewildering. We were worried that she might not actually be enjoying the experience. After dinner we were taken to another thatched roofed rondavel for head and neck massages. This time we didn't have private cubicles, but sat on comfortable chairs arranged in a long row.
Back to the dining room for dessert. There were three yummy cakes to choose from- cheesecake, chocolate cake, and a vanilla cake. I had a tiny piece of each and enjoyed them all. Dessert was followed by another treatment - a foot massage. I have to say the three therapists I had were outstanding.
Back at our dining table we were served Amarula (a South African liqueur very similar to Bailey's) and dark chocolate. Ah, what luxury! Truly a memory to treasure. Definitely worth the long plane flights here.
On my last day in South Africa I had a long, leisurely brunch with my cousin Jaya. Sitting at a beach café in Umhlanga, we caught up on all the news of the last two years. We've known each other since we were babies, so we have quite a bond. It's always so easy to be with her. Sharing a meal with a childhood buddy in this stunning setting - the great Indian Ocean with its huge waves crashing on a sandy beach, the red and white lighthouse just over to our right, and the warm winter sun above us - was the perfect ending to a most satisfying trip.
As my plane makes its ascent the usual schizophrenia returns. Saying good bye to the people closest to your heart is never easy. I'm sad ... yet happy. I'm returning to the big wide world, a global citizen once again. In ten hours I'll be with my English husband in London. After a couple more weeks in Europe we'll return to our California home.
Sala Kahle, South Africa!
Here, in Umhlanga, you see posh hotels, clean beaches, upscale restaurants with generic western menus, and all the people on vacation are white. You could be in America or Europe. Then you see a family of monkeys hovering close to balconies, waiting for that opportunity to dart in and help themselves to fruit from the fruit bowl. And you know this is Africa. Exotic Africa.
Umhlanga's white vacationers who are serviced by blacks is a sobering reminder that even after twenty years of a post apartheid government, the country has made so little progress toward integration. Of course, it's hardly surprising. Twenty years ago when Nelson Mandela became the first black president after the country's first free elections, the vast majority of adult blacks were illiterate, living in various levels of poverty. Due to the design of apartheid South Africa, black families rarely lived together in the same home. A forced dysfunctionality had its expected consequences. Today's black adults were the traumatized children of those unfortunate families, and to expect them to suddenly blend into the middle class mainstream would be naive. Yes, there have been lots of good changes. Some things are better. Some are worse. Overall, though, I feel hopeful. Today's black kids go to school. The universities are overwhelmingly black. How could it not get better?
But after years of living abroad I do find it quite disconcerting to see the country of my childhood still so divided. I find the government's inefficiency and corruption even more distressing. South Africans are not proud of their president, squirming at newspaper photos of President Zuma beside President Obama.
President Obama's South African visit received much (positive) press coverage. It was heartwarming to watch him give his main speech from the UCT campus with my family. We chuckled at his references to Nando's and the group Freshly Ground.
Pam, Risha, Mum, and I spent an indulgent evening at Mangwanani African Spa at the Sibaya Casino which was a ten minute drive from our apartment. This was an evening of sheer luxury. First you get into a robe and slippers, then get seated at a table in the classy dining room. African décor and music provide the desired ambience. A cocktail and appetizers are served. Then you get escorted into a cubicle in a very African style rondavel where a masseuse offers you a choice of oils for the massage of your life. Forty five blissful minutes later you are back in the dining room for a sumptuous meal. On the menu was potjiekos - a South African stew loaded with vegetables and herbs and spices, prepared on a big cast iron three legged pot over a wood fire. The superb stew was served in miniature three legged pots. For drinks we decided to live it up and have champagne. Mum found this level of luxury a bit bewildering. We were worried that she might not actually be enjoying the experience. After dinner we were taken to another thatched roofed rondavel for head and neck massages. This time we didn't have private cubicles, but sat on comfortable chairs arranged in a long row.
Back to the dining room for dessert. There were three yummy cakes to choose from- cheesecake, chocolate cake, and a vanilla cake. I had a tiny piece of each and enjoyed them all. Dessert was followed by another treatment - a foot massage. I have to say the three therapists I had were outstanding.
Back at our dining table we were served Amarula (a South African liqueur very similar to Bailey's) and dark chocolate. Ah, what luxury! Truly a memory to treasure. Definitely worth the long plane flights here.
On my last day in South Africa I had a long, leisurely brunch with my cousin Jaya. Sitting at a beach café in Umhlanga, we caught up on all the news of the last two years. We've known each other since we were babies, so we have quite a bond. It's always so easy to be with her. Sharing a meal with a childhood buddy in this stunning setting - the great Indian Ocean with its huge waves crashing on a sandy beach, the red and white lighthouse just over to our right, and the warm winter sun above us - was the perfect ending to a most satisfying trip.
As my plane makes its ascent the usual schizophrenia returns. Saying good bye to the people closest to your heart is never easy. I'm sad ... yet happy. I'm returning to the big wide world, a global citizen once again. In ten hours I'll be with my English husband in London. After a couple more weeks in Europe we'll return to our California home.
Sala Kahle, South Africa!
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