Credits

A Big Thanks guys!

The climbing crew and invaluable family tour guides without whom this holiday
would not have been the memorable experience that it was and always will be.



Further Thanks to...

My sister in Law who dutifully carried out her customary duties for my mother's memorial gathering,  in Zimbabwe!
She graciously stayed behind to my mind their younger kids in Johannesburg, while my brother LG, teenage nephew
L- junior and I flew off to Capetown for a glorious 4-day break.

And...

To my elder brother N who accommodated us in Capetown and took time off work to guide us around the city.

Not least of all to all my brother's in law's aunt A and sis  K who were generous with their time and provided us with transport, accommodation  fine food, wine, fantastic company and entertainment in the brief time I stopped over in Johannesburg.

Not least of all a special thanks to my husband who selflessly looked after our three wonderful children here in arctic Britain, while I basked in the sun for 2 weeks.

This may sound weird  but my final thanks goes to Trevor Noah, a stand up comedian that K introduced us to. With his uncanny ability to traverse the racial and social spectra (in the same way Key and Peele are doing in America) he taught me a great deal more about South  African culture and politics than Wikipedia ever could.

More importantly, I now have a newly found sense of confidence in my mixed race identity.

Table Mountain Pics

What would you do to be up here overlooking that!

Ascent/Descent point

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Quarter of the way up

There is nothing like a wet T-shirt and a shady rock to offer respite from the scorching climb.

Almost There! The home stretch is a completely vertical ascent. All the other tourists egg you on ,  which is nice.

I did it! My own thoughts and sentiments:
 I feel triumphant, yet humbled by the awesomeness of  what I see..... And a strange way,  I feel free.
 But  most of all  I thank God that I am alive to experience this moment!
The descent

Cape Town Pics

Cape Town CBD

Beautiful golden sandy beaches against Table Mountain backdrop.

State of the Art Shopping Center

Port View with World Cup  Stadium in the forground

Infrastructure

12th December: Closure

The Memorial Service

Today was late mother's Memorial day which went very well. I shed a few tears, quite unwittingly. Extended family arranged music, flowers , church minister and last but not least, sadza (even more authentic than the  Jo'burg meal with enough variety for vegetarians including dried cauliflour with tomatoe, onion and dovi, pounded by my cousin Kumusha (at her rural home), and meat lovers would not have been disappointed either.
I have pictures of sister-in-law G slaving away over big black pots on the fire, complete with African wrap-round and head adorned with duku. 

Tradition says female spouses and in-laws  do all the work at funerals. The men sit together and discuss 'important' matters such as how they will afford to keep a second  or third wife...still an obsession within this culture. G also carried water on her head and knelt on the ground to deliver it to the grave so as to wash the grave-stone, symbolizing closure. I at first took the micky out of G but later was overcome by the reverence shown by family and broke down in tears. A metal plate, and cup was ceremonially placed on the grave to ensure the diseased would want for nothing in the next life. To my dismay P went on to crush the cup and plate after the service and then explained that this would stop them being desirable to thieves.

I talked to my newly acquainted  niece at length. She is doing A level English, History and Divinity and wants to become a lawyer. The only problem she faces at school is that she is looked down on by her peers for being slim. Zimbabwean men like their women voluptuously big so she is devastated that she just can't seem to conjure up the appetite to stuff her face to obesity. She has the same obsession with texting as us and can afford a cellphone. Zimbabwean air time is US$1 for 1 week of constant texting on whatsapp. An international call is $1 for 5mins. Not too bad I thought.

We later visited an evangelical church I frequented for a few years, now called the Celebration Centre. It had undergone a gob-smaking transformation from  a  humble school hall, into a building the size of Birmingham History  Museum  (one of the few specimens of 21st centuary modernity seen in all of Harare), set in an extensive garden with palm trees, large car park, and large African sculpture. It's state of the art interior includes a  bookshop, offices, conference rooms, celebration hall and coffee shop (best coffee I've drunk in years) and restaurant. 

There was a service being held  to commemorate 12/12/12 in which the prosperity message was in full swing starting with a prayer of repentance from stinginess and a petition to make us more generous givers. Naturally this church is mostly attended by the rich middle class blacks who own large mansions in opulent neighbourhoods like Emerald Hill and Borowdale  (with flower gardens, orchard, horse stable in some cases,  thatched gazebos, tennis court, outdoor swimming pool, etc etc which I spotted when taking a different walking route this morning. ) We left Celebration Center prematurely with a bad taste in our mouths, and went to see the Christmas lights at a very posh shopping village built by a Jew called Sam Levy, then  ate supper at Nandos , bought out by the Inn Corporation who also own the Chicken inn, Bakers Inn, Creamy inn and Pizza Inn. They are everywhere... the local fast food and bread  monopoly that have well and truly  conquered Zimbabwe. How? ZANU have a 10% share. I will say no more.

We ate pirri pirri chips and chicken liver with onion sauce served with light fluffy crusty Portuguese rolls and a big salad. The kids played with  x -boxes in the children's playzone, a welcome but unusual service considering the high theft rate in Harare.

20th Dec. Table Mountain and a little Clubing

Table Mountain (voted  one of the seven natural wonders of the world.)

The climb was judged not doable by our hosts who scare mongered about it taking  6hrs just to climb up and only professional climbers were recommended to climb due to  numerous fatal falls. The personal challenge my brother had given himself  to mark his 40th birthday,  of climbing to the top  seemed to be hanging in the balance,  when the elusive Al with a ferocious gift of the gab, finally surfaced, after 12hrs on and off  trying his phone in vain, that his fears were layed to rest. I was amazed a LG’s complete trust of this shifty, fast- talking law graduate whose defence from any critisism leveled in his direction was , "Dude, you're killing me!" I came to learn that Al  was not the proverbial book to be judged by its’ cover. He was true to his word. According to him we could all climb to the top if we completed part of the ascent by car, parked up and used a route designed for the average non-professional climber.

Our party represented a range of fitness levels including my exercise shy brother LG , the pale sickly thirteen year old L junior who neither had any apparent  traces of muscle tissue, nor appetite for food, 53 yr old N with knee issues, and his 19yr old son B with a severe rugby injury. B’s girlfriend tagging along would play the maiden in distress, which left me  and even I was still nursing an old ankle injury. Only a lean and toned Al had no excuse thankfully as he would be leading. We set off from a road 1/4 way up Table Mountain  which allows tourists to park up and climb the rest of mountain via Platteklip Gorge, a roughly excavated series of steps and rocky paths that was signposted to take 2.5hrs to complete. It took me precisely  that length of time to reach the top ( including 30min waiting time for the rest of the party to catch up) thanks to my 2 'virtual' personal trainers back home in my living room every morning: Shawn T and Tony Haughton (downloads actually) . 

 The scorching heat was our worst tribulation and search for some rocky shade kept us climbing. Water supplies started to run out an hour before the end of the journey and B who arrived early had to descend back to  the rest of the party to provide a top-up. Sweets and fruit packed in a small rucksack were very handy accompaniments and I had insisted we brought these along despite the understandable reluctance to carry any weight at all.

LG clocked in at 3.5hrs having overcome many trials and tribulations both physical and mental. Everyone including L junior who surprised us all by coming in second place, felt triumphant as they stepped onto the cable car for a quick and Easy descent. We did not choose to eat in the tempting selection  of cafes and restaurants in the top of table mountain (serving both western and African quisine, plus health bar and icecream parlour) so as to avoid tourist trap prices. A dip in the sea afterwards was our top priorty but where we were the cold ocean breezes meant the water was still forbodingly cold. I was content just to soak in the light, and warmth of the sun on the beach, while gazing at the awesome beauty that surrounded me....

21st Dec

Cape Vinyards

Al magiced up some complimentary wine-tasting tickets which he had no use for, and gave to my 2 brother and I. We wasted no time in visiting the Cape Vinyards, where we were greeted and shown around by a wine boff who had 6 wines for us to try. There was food and cheeses on offer, which we were too hot to be bothered with and were just grateful for some chilled white wine. He gave us the opportunity to make our own descriptions and then gave us a complete education into the wines they produced. I made some brief notes at the time:

'Savignon and Semion grapes are blended in different proportions.

The Flagship wine of the Cape vinyards contains 30% semion 60 % old French oak and is marketed under different names depending on which country it is exported to.

The older the wine the less acidity.' 

Wine Tasting

Slightly inebriated we headed for Cape Point for a walk up to one of Capetown's most famous historic and geograpic land-marks.

The Night Scene
On the eve of brother LG's birthday, we were scheduled to have yet another  braai at big brother N's and wife H's house, where we were staying whilst in Cape Town. The plan was to finish the evening with drinks at a Jazz club, at Waterfront, recommended by Al. However we had to change plans at the last minute upon realising that said birthday boy was in violation of the dress code by only bringing trainers to Cape Town but not any smart shoes. This led us into the CBD where we were able to take in the night life at a glance both by car and on foot: the different clubs for various age groups, social groups, sexual orientations, cultures, races (yes races) and various genres of music.This form of segregation is chosen naturally, not enforced, so it seems okay...or isn't it? This may well be the subject of debate but as a middle class mixed race tourist with working class African roots and a chameleonic ability to blend, nowhere seems off limits, except the red light district, which we of course avoid.

The first club we tried was called Tjing Tjing chosen for being a relatively grown up  scene and teenage free. The decore comprised minimalistic plain glass tables and bar counter, larva lamps and various coloured light features. A range of Grunge,  Indie and Rock hits were blarring at an ear-busting volume so that any attempt at conversation was completely useless and the fact that no-one was even remotely interested in dancing made it even more pointless. After  pretending to chat while staring at others over a drink (as you do) little brother LG, big brother Nick and I fled  with the law graduate and his girlfriend back into the night.

Al's next choice was a Samba club called Ashoko. We walked in to the rhythm (actual rhythm) of Latin American music, laughing and smiling people which meant they could at least hear each others jokes and lo and behold, actual people dancing! We were immediately comfortable and Al ordered  cocktails to celebrate LG's birthday, as it was now midnight and therefore officially the 22nd of December. I surprised myself by being the first to hit the dance floor (for the  first time in a night club, since I got married ....17 years ago)!

 It was with stiff aching joints that I climbed into bed in the early hours of the morning. The 17 hour flight back home awaited me later that day, with so much ground covered in just 3 days and yet so much left undone. Still, they'll keep until I return with my own family. For the time being I couldn't think of a better way to end the most memorable holiday I have had to date.....which I owe to my fantastic brother LG and his gorgeous wife  G.

19th Dec. Cape Town

19th Dec Is Cape Town the best place to live on earth?

For one Cape Town boasts the best public transport system in Africa. At least according to big brother N who lives here. For my brother and I it is just a relief to drive down those wide, smooth and clearly marked roads. Everything has a fresh lick of paint in contrast to the layers and layers of rust which dominates Zimbabwe’s towns and cityscapes...the overwhelming evidence that where Zimbabwe time has all but stood still,  South Africa  in stark contrast, has kept the infrastructural clock ticking almost  in tandem with the developed world.

This clearly promises to be a much more civilized experience than the Zimbabwe trip. With safe tap water to drink, and lots of fresh sea air, we felt instantly revived from the general tiredness and malaise that had hitherto hung over us.  This is a city with pretty skyscrapers in the CBD and spacious bungalows in residential areas, set against a backdrop of mountains also flanked by white sandy beaches and of course the dreamy blue Atlantic ocean. Table mountain it’s crowning glory, can be seen from almost every angle of the city, and our major accomplishment this year will be to scale its heights, and drink in the  views from the top, having never done any notable mountain climbing before!

Cape town is a lot more touristy than Johannesburg, with a buzzing night life  to take advantage of the dry and warm weather plus approximately 16 hours of gloriously bright daylight at this time of the year. It is also well serviced with an array of classy restaurants serving fish, seafood and others serving large amounts of braaied meat (plus  vegetarian ones which sadly, we didn't get round to.) The Cape Town Fish Market and the Ocean Basket are two cost effective and  impressive seafood restaurants that I can personally recommend for quality of food (fresh locally sourced, cooked to a perfect, tender and succulent consistency !) and friendly 'unrushed' service. We must not forget that there is no hurry in Africa....and Capetown is no exception (this is after all a holiday)! 

The Cape Town Fish Market at the  Victoria and Alfred Waterfront, serve  starters and drinks really quickly and the waiters were extremely friendly and personable. When in Cape Town a seafood platter  with a selection of plain perfectly cooked samples of  the days catch  is an absolute must.The first thing you notice is the freshness and melt in the mouth taste of the sea food. Then there’s a variety of ceamy, garlicy , tangy and spicy dips...or just plain salt, pepper and lime. We get through 1 or 2 glasses each of fine but reasonably priced wine before the main course arrives, maybe because it's a busy evening or because I have ordered  sea food potjiekos, pronounced poike. This is a fruity and spicy dish which comes in the little 3-legged cast iron pot used to cook it and is served on a bed of spongy boiled rice. (Traditionally, the recipe includes meat, vegetables, starches like rice or potatoes, all slow-cooked on an open wood fire, with Dutch-Malay spices, the distinctive spicing of South Africa's early culinary melting pot. Other common ingredients include fruits and flour-based products like pasta.) This explosive flavour cocktail and texture fest is one of my most pleasantly memorable culinary experiences yet.

At the Ocean Basket  we paid an average of  R50 per Sushi starter and R350 for a main course of mixed seafood platter  and chips to share plus large Greek salad for R140 accompanied by slabs of freshly backed bread.  All in the meal cost around R750, (approx. 50 pounds) including drinks for 5 adults. For an upmarket seafood restaurant, this makes it cheaper than Zimbabwean prices, as the restaurateurs take advantage of the stronger US dollar to overcharge tourists. (Hence, in Zimbabwe a Nando’s meal costing $90 equates approximately to  70 pounds for 5 adults.)

Spicy Chicken livers, a Portuguese roll and large Greek salad to share plus diet coke. An  ideal light summer's  lunch  from Nando's for only £5 (approx) a head.

While we were in Cape Town we rediscovered Wimpy  which is booming down there an excellent choice for breakfast. Not only for the dirt-cheap prices, but for the generous portions of real food,  and wide range of options including Continental breakfast of cold meats and pastries, omlettes, pancakes, full English, breakfast cereals and a  range of healthy options including fruit juices, smoothies, oats porridge, mueseli/granola, fruit salads , yoghart, whole-grain or carrot muffins with cream cheese and blueberry jam (my choice) and most importantly good filtered coffee! 

17th Dec. CROSSING THE BORDER

17^th Dec. BEITBRIDGE: South African Immigration Office.

Back at the lodge in Johannesburg we finally climbed into bed in the early hours of the morning, desperately looking forward to our first day of pure 'vegging out'. My brother LG had driven for 12hrs plus the 6hr battle with some very cheeky South African customs officers and Zimbabwean crowds thronging into the hundreds all following a dodgy queuing system that kept breaking down into chaos. We had been misdirected several times by various staff who when asked where we should go for processing motorists, just swung their hands in some random direction as if swatting flies and walked away from us without so much as eye contact. I initially put this callous disregard for other human life forms to pure disdain for Zimbabwean shoppers in particular, since thousands, once across the boarder, ‘disappear’ to become South Africa's nightmare  illegal immigrants. However my more knowledgeable older brother assured me it was nothing more than the usual civil service incompetence...taken to a level we are yet to see here. The favouritism shown to South African passport holders was less than subtle as they were immediately shunted through. (But then again this could just be down to the same lack of joined-up thinking you get in the public services here...just slightly accentuated by  heat induced sluggishness.) 

 With temperatures souring to 35 degrees C  you would definitely not have wanted to be here, however cold and damp you’d been feeling in the dark, dull dourness of our long British winter.  Except for one redeeming feature:  A family of Baboons playing nearby scavenging for food, scaling fences, jumping onto vehicle roof tops and swinging from one  tree branch to another. Their comical mannerisms kept the kids amused for some time.

We drew the line when the change of shift came on, half asleep, dragging their heels and wiping the sweat off their brow in irritation. They were taking Africa time to a whole new level spending a full 20 minutes (no exaggeration) just logging on! Then of course there's catching up with colleagues on the week-end’s exploits over the statuary bottle of cocoa cola and that’s before figuring out how  the new walking-round-in-a-3-row–circle-round-the-block queuing system works, given that it was regularly broken up by crowded bottle necks where the elderly had just plonked themselves down, ostensibly to rest in the shade.  A fresh- faced official took one look at the mess of restless people who by now were seething at the increasing number of queue- jumpers,  and walked back in, presumably to find someone who’d done the training or degree course in queuing systems, but instead came out with the guy with a sjambok  i.e beating stick to restore order .

Despite intermittent tirades of shouting and beating by South African officials, the queue had amalgamated into one single blob with everyone inching and huddling towards the only line of people ( nearest the entrance of the immigration office), inside which there was yet another queuing system. The young kids played with other children, oblivious to all as long as we kept them watered, fed and toilets were momentarily fine because the cleaning shift came just come on duty.

L- junior the English teenager and first-time visitor we brought with us  was lost for words especially when he saw a  man right in front of him getting whacked on his balding head for allegedly jumping the queue (water after death really).  So as soon as G returned from her futile attempts to curry favor with officials, LG came up with an alternative  plan.

Enter: L-junior looking red, flushed, weedy and tired with his antibiotics for tonsillitis to hand. With all the acting skills he could muster he carried off  a remarkably convincing near -fainting act, then LG laid it on thick with nerves apparently shot to pieces and a very concerned senior immigration manager, who either to cover his arse or out of sympathy, spontaneously played along! The rest is easy to figure. I was amongst the extras who provided a sick-bag, water and words of comfort to L-junior to strengthen our case. The verdict was that we would have to walk to the first counter as quickly as possible, squeezing our way passed hot, bothered and soul destroyed queuers. We were strictly to  avoid any eye-contact with anyone. 5 minutes later, which is all it takes to stamp  6 passports, we were in the car and on our way back to Jo’burg.  

  

The moral of this tale is that crossing Beitbridge boarder by car is not a viable option so regardless of airfares, L and G plan to fly next time and will ignore numerous pieces of advice about timing. Of course it didn’t help that it was the week before Christmas hence the mad rush for Christmas shopping!  

Sustainable Stability?

Despite everything the shelves are fully stacked.  Possibly because all  price labels are now in US dollars ?
(The smallest denomination is US$1  a fact which may be partly responsibly for inflated prices.  Any small change at the cash till is in the form of stationary and sweets!)