Frontier Farms

This past weekend, the students, Jim and I went to the Winterberg Mountain range area (near Adelaide, South Africa) to stay at the homes of two Afrikaans farm families.  The first farm, owned by Marnaus and Winnie Langdraii, was the "smaller" farm, with about 2600 acres.  They primarily raise sheep and beef cattle, but also had turkeys and ducks, spring bok and elands, horses, cows, and chickens. The list goes on.  Some of the students couldn't believe it when Marnaus brought into the house two quite new bottle fed lambs to hold and play with.  

Riding in the bakkie

Isaak holds his upside down..

After relaxing a bit, they toted us all out on the backs of trailers and pick-ups (remember what they are called here? -- bakkies) to a beautiful swimming hole, complete with waterfall.  Most of us quickly waded in..

After we were all clean, Marnaus had a plan to get us dirty again.  First, the students had to catch some lambs whose tails had not yet been cut off.  Off they chased, and several brought them back -

sometimes holding them quite awkwardly.  Ryan Fuchs, future pediatric doctor, got right in there to band their tails and their small testes.

..while Melissa - what can I say?

Then, off to the milking barn we went.  Marnaus milks about 40 head.  The students each took their turn at milking a cow, and then drinking warm milk streamed directly from the udder.  I don't have shots of the faces, but you should have seen some of them.  Marnaus would squirt milk into the students' mouths with precision for a while, and then end with a circular flourish!  Winnie and Marnaus made us feel "at home" - and we all settled in for some music and laughter.

Eleven of our young women stayed with them, the rest of us went off to the farm of Aurelia and Francois Dannegeur.  Francois and Aurelia own 6000 acres.  Now, I should mention that many of these acres are vertical - as the lands roam up and down the mountain sides.  Absolutely stunning views!

On Saturday, all climbed up one of the mountains.  I followed a goat track (while the students climbed straight up.)   After awhile, I was considered "lost," but of course I knew where I was the whole time!

Here's where my sheep path petered out,
and I had to double back.

Cutting off a year's worth of growth

Then Francois showed us all sheep shearing - which I was surprised that they do with hand scissors.  (A shearer is paid about five Rand per sheep.)  Francois raises sheep with Merino wool, which makes wonderful sweaters and - as it turns out - beards!

Liz and Michelle

After sheep shearing, all but one of us tried our hands at rifle target practice.  The "bull-eye" paper target was placed about 40 yards out.  Jim went first, and had the best shot for awhile, before Patrick DeSutter took the lead.  But, in the end, the best shot came from none other than Molly Jackson!

"Cooling their heals" before supper

We ended our Saturday with a huge meal that had been prepared by Aurelia (after high tea with three kinds of cake at about 3:00).  The students played tennis and cooled off in the swimming pool.

After supper, Francois showed us his trophy room, where there were heads from forty different animals - including a giraffe, a zebra, wildebeest, impalas, and dikirs - as well as a couple of full animal bodies.   Matt Dummer asked me if I had ever read the story about the hunter who brought a group of people to his island because he had hunted every other kind of animal.  Eerie!
But we were treated with nothing but kindness.

One of the viewpoints

Francois and Aurelia

On Sunday, we finished our beautiful weekend with a hike again on Marnaus' land.  We came to a section where we needed to swim into a narrow canyon with walls about 40 feet high to an island.  Once you reach the island, another small pool in the canyon awaits.   When you swim across that, you come to a waterfall.  Several of us jumped into the pool under the waterfall, thinking, "This is better than Disneyland!"

All of us were sad to say good-bye to the Winterberg Mountains - and our host families.  At one point I said to Marnaus, "You know.  We are going to go home thinking that these farms are typical South African farms."  (I was thinking that these would be more high end than most.)  He said, "They are."  I wonder....

Human Rights Day

Wednesday, March 21st - Human Rights Day - was a public holiday in South Africa.  It commemorates the start of the country's Human Rights Commission, launched on March 21, 1996.  But, the more common remembrance on this day goes back 36 years earlier to March 21, 1960.  On that day, sixty-nine protestors were killed by the police.  Called the Sharpeville Massacre, they were killed when they gathered to protest the law that required all adults to carry a correct "pass" to enter a "white area."

I was trying to excuse myself for not knowing much beyond the name "Sharpeville Massacre" (because I was only 8 at the time), but a local massacre also happened on this day in 1985.  In a town very close to Port Elizabeth, a funeral was going to be held for some individuals who had been shot while protesting here.  The funeral was called for March 21st.  The federal government was very nervous that year about what they deemed to be gatherings of terrorists (and, funerals were a common time for "freedom fighters" to come together).  They heard about the funeral called for March 21 and cancelled it.  Yes, the order came all the way from Pretoria.  They also supposedly gave the order to use live ammunition against those who violated the order.

Meanwhile, the people in the townships did not hear that the funeral was canceled.  People from one township had to walk to another township where the funeral was to be held.   As they were walking (unarmed), the police opened fire.  The first person shot was a 10-year old boy on a bicycle.  He lived,  but over twenty people died that day.  This is called the Langa Massacre.  Even though I was an adult in 1985, I don't remember hearing about it.  (Or was it that I was not paying attention?)

There is an memorable exhibit about the Langa massacre at the Red Location Museum, but again, talking with the Mamas really brings it home.  One Mama said to me that her cousin was killed that day, and that the family never got back his body (from the police).  "If we only had one bone," she said, "we could bury him in peace."

Traditional healing

Since several of our students are pre-med, and all of our students are as interested as we are in other practices and approaches to healing, Jim and I asked early in the semester if there was a chance we could meet and learn from an African traditional healer.  Nuala Jensen who supports our short program here, and whose vocabulary does not contain the word "no", took up the quest.  Interestingly, she found a woman in her own neighborhood with a sign in her window stating she was a traditional healer.  Nuala knocked on her door, and asked if we could come and visit her.

So, this morning (Thursday, March 22) Mark, Beth, Jim and I drove off to the home of Nokathula (I'll use her first name only) to see if she would be interesting for the students to meet.  Interesting is too mild of a word ---- she was mind-blowing.  She didn't speak much at all of healing herbs, but spoke more about what it was like to be personally called to be a sangoma.   She also summoned at least two of her ancestors, and spoke to us in their voices.  (She was in a trancelike state; her sister interpreted.)

I should back up and give you an extract from the book Sizwe's Test that Jim will be using in his Intercultural Class.  This verbatim excerpt introduces some of the language of traditional healing -

"An inyanga is an herbalist, but has no clairvoyance, only a deep knowledge of the medicinal properties of herbs and plants.

Sangoma is the Zulu word for diviner-healer, but is used throughout South Africa in all of its languages.  A sangoma is the interface between living people and their ancestors.  Through communication with her spirit-guide, she interprets the cause of illness where the cause is either ancestral displeasure or witchcraft.  (Igqira is the Xhosa word for diviner-healer.) 

Instructing us...

 Muthi lietrally means "tree" in Zulu, but the proximate English translation is "medicine."  Muthi are medicines use to protect people from occult attack...  Muthi has also made its way into the colloquial English and Afrikaans spoken by white South Africans; here it refers to allopathic medicines."

Nokathula is a Sangoma.  She fell ill when she was 15.  She said that during that time she consulted with a lot of medical doctors, with no cure in sight.  Then, she had a dream.

Her ancestors came to her and told her she had a calling to be a sangoma.  She had to leave home and go learn from another sangoma.   But, she says her true guide was her spirit-guide who helped her heal.

Ancestral-directed dance

Speaking in one voice...

...before speaking in a grandfather's voice.

She spoke to us of the three different ceremonies that a sangoma must go through.  The first one is held at a spot selected by a sangoma with whom you are training -- and four chickens must be sacrificed.  One red (to summon all ancestors), one black and white (to summon specific male ancestors), one brown (to summon specific female ancestors), and one white (to summon God).  The second ceremony involves a goat that is hidden.   The sangoma-in-training must be able to tell those who hid the goat what colors are on it, where it is hidden, and then go find it before she/he can move on to the third ceremony.  The third ceremony involves a sacrifice of a cow.  We didn't hear much about this ceremony, but only after it do you become a sangoma.  You receive a certificate, but more importantly, you are issued an itshoba - which is a long staff that contains at its top the tail of your cow.  This, more than the diploma, signifies that you are a sangoma.   You can sometimes heal illnesses of others after that (in part because you are directed to the right plants and herbs), as well as foretell the future.

Most of the time while there, I wondered how much fun she was having at our expense.  But, then, she ended with one thing that set me back.  She said that one of the "lies" told about African healing is that it is "witchcraft" - that she doesn't believe in God.  She says that is not true.  She says, "I am a Methodist.  I start every ceremony by talking first to God.  I believe the ceremonies are used to honor our ancestors and remember them.  And, since they have passed on, they are closer to God.  So I ask them to pray for us."  Sounds more familiar now, doesn't it?

On the way home, Jim, Mark, and I all admitted we were thinking about our parents a lot during the time with her (and Aunt Harriet, too!)

Maitland River Dunes

A spot along the drive...

One quick day trip we took with Mark and Beth was driving along the southern edge of Port Elizabeth, out past Seaview and on to the Maitland River mouth.  This is the closest I've ever been to what it must be like to be in the Saharan Desert.  Here a set of sand dunes piles up toward the sky.

Of course, Jim had to head to the top of the tallest one.  Luckily, Mark, Beth, and Shaz - who took the trip with us - also like heading up.  While I stayed below and walked along an endless beach, up, up they climbed.  As Jim said, "He didn't walk to the end of the earth, but he could see it from there."

I think these pictures will show much more than I can write.  Enjoy!

Jim takes the lead, with Beth and Shaz

Mark and Beth

I'm king of the mountain!

I'm queen of the beach!

Beth and Mark have arrived

Hi!  Beth's here

Beth and Mark arrived yesterday at noon.   We had a leisurely Sunday - walking along the beach, poking around the Sunday market, and eating line fish of the day at the Mediterranean restaurant.  We went to hear Sunday jazz for a bit before we all fell into bed about ten.  (I was amazed they lasted that long.)

Today has been a full day.  Leaving at eight in the morning, Beth went with Jim to the primary school at which we volunteer, while I went to the children's home.  Beth spent most of her morning in the kindergarten room, stepping outside only for recess where she entertained the kids reading Go, Dog, Go.

Aya's Home

Mark and Beth in Aya's studio

In the afternoon, all four of us went back to New Brighton township for an emotionally powerful afternoon.  We started with a visit to the studio of potter Ayanda Mja.  She not only showed us her studio, but her home as well.  Here's a picture of her living room, and one of she with Mark and Beth.

Then we took Mark and Beth to the Red Location Museum for a quick look into some of the people who resisted Apartheid.  One room shows three nooses hanging from the ceiling, representing three men who died after being convicted of treason.

We then stopped in for a repeat visit to the Mamas' backpackers.  We sat and ate buns and homemade apricot jam together.  They started telling a few of their life stories to Mark and Beth - about the three years two of them had personally spent in prison.  One woman had tears slowly running down her cheeks. Then we found out that one of the women was the daughter of one of the three men whose hanging was told in the museum.  She was one year, six months old when it happened.  Brings the stories out of the museum and into raw reality.

Birds and Trees

With all due respect to Dr. Seuss, I thought I'd write a bit about the birds and trees here, about the birds in trees here.

While recently looking at a bird book, I was awed by the variety and beauty of the birds that live in South Africa.  Unfortunately, I haven't seen too many of the really striking ones.  In PE, we mostly see seagulls, pigeons and doves.  My favorite bird so far I often see walking in the park or on the golf course.  Approximately the size of a chicken, it is called the hadeda.  I don't have a picture of it (yet), but Jim swears that it gets its name from the fact that it laughs whenever he hits the golfball.  (Ha-dee-dah!)  

Hoopoe

On our travels we've seen many quail-like birds and once a black eagle which is entirely black with a white V on its back.  And, we've seen the ostrich everywhere.  I've been told that the brain of an ostrich is the size of your little finger's fingernail.

The only new bird that I have a semi-decent picture of is the Hoopoe.  Its head is cinnamon colored, while its wings are black and white striped.  Its call is hoop-hoop-hoop.   

As far as trees go, most are tropical ones - palms, banana, fig, etc.  Jim's favorite tree must be a type of South African pine tree.  It has needled fronds that grow upward, ending with a definite "cross" at the very top of each tree.

An acacia tree is a giraffe's
favorite food

Personally, I am intrigued by the acacia tree, which is full of long, SHARP thorns.  One author I've read says, "The wickedly sharp thorns scarcely scratch an elephant's hide, but for us soft-skinned 
species, they hold the equivalent of a maze of fish hooks."  This tree is a giraffe's favorite.  The giraffe's mouth and tongue are so tough that they don't feel the thorns.  They can have the acacia trees all to themselves!

What's referred to as the African Christmas Tree is actually not a tree, but rather the flower and stem of the aloe plant.  This grows as big as a tree, and I have been told that many South Africans chop them down, spray paint them white, and decorate them for Christmas.

The last poor tree I'm going to tell you about needs a good publicity agent.  The sign posted in front of it on a walking trail said that an extract from its bark is good for stomach aches, menstrual cramps, infertility, as well as impotency!  Its leaves are good for all kinds of rashes.  And, its roasted seeds can be used as a coffee substitute.  Surely, for such a useful tree, someone could think of a better name than "Bladder Nut Tree."  

Braai in Zwide Township

Not content to only volunteer two days a week, several of our students who are not in South African Political Science on Thursday afternoons have been volunteering as homework helpers at a high school in a nearby township.

Jim McKeown

Our South African Literature professor Mary West told us about it.  And, we soon learned that an ex-pat has a hand in it as well. His name is Jim McKeown.  Jim was born north of Philadelphia, went to college at Columbia, and after graduation got a job at Morgan Stanley.  But, he soon decided that life wasn't for him, quit and came to Africa.  His brother was in the Peace Corps at the time in Kenya.  Jim visited him for awhile, then traveled through Uganda and Kenya.  He kept on going until he reached Port Elizabeth, where he felt "at home."  Only in his late twenties I'd guess, he has been living here for at least two years.

Jim M. has started his own non-profit with several initiatives.  One is to identify the top three kids from each high school in the New Brighton township area and help them get into college.  Sometimes the only thing holding them back is finding out the application date, understanding the forms, or paying the 100Rand application fee for financial aid; sometimes it is much more than that.  His hope is that if kids in the township see others who get into college, they might start considering it possible for themselves.

This is not posed.
  Isaak Jones has the students captivated!

His non-profit also works at the other end of the continuum - working on after school programs in really weak schools academically.  That is the case with the school where our students are volunteering.  (I'm not going to name the school in this case.)  I'll just say that these kids are struggling to graduate, and our students and other NMMU students go once a week to coach small groups of them after school.

Ryan Longley - A natural

These young women later
re-braided Margaret Peyton's hair 

 Yesterday, during this after school time, we traded English and Xhosa idioms, or sayings that have an alternate meaning than the words imply.  Some Xhosa ones that I especially liked are:
• Ufe ehleli - The words literally mean 'He's dead while alive' - but means he's useless.
• Imfene yakho indala - Literally: 'Your baboon is old,' but means You're late.  Or, as they explained: "You're so late, the baboon you rode in on must have died."
• Maxalanga ndityeni - Literally:  'Vultures, come eat me!' but means "Put me out of my misery."

For one small group, I contributed these American idioms:
• Break a leg - which actually means 'good luck'
• A stitch in time saves nine meaning 'prevention is better than a cure.'
• Don't count your chickens before they are hatched.  
The Xhosa students liked the last two, but I was surprised that some of our American students had never heard of them.

Meat counter

After the school volunteer time, Jim M. took us to an authentic township braii.  I'll try to describe it.  You walk into a butcher shop where there are cuts of meat inside a windowed cooler.  You pick out the meat you want, pay, and then walk around to the back of the building.

Stop by, if ever in Zwide township

There are picnic tables set up under a tin roof, and six or eight grills going, with a big stack of wood alongside.  (The charcoal heat comes from the embers of the burnt wood).  You can cook your own meat or ask the staff of the butcher shop to do it.  We had ours done; here is our cook.  My Jim says that the cook turned each piece of meat over a hundred times.

Our chef

My salad remained in the glass bowl

Knowing I was going to a braai, I had brought a couscous salad along, but I also brought it home again.  Apparently no one brings a side dish to a township braai, as there were no plates, or silverware, or napkins.  The meat is served in a cardboard box on brown paper.  We were actually kind of fastidious, I suppose.  We bought a loaf of sliced brown bread to use as our napkins on the table.  We ate with our fingers, of course, but occasionally put our meat down on our "bread plates."



I sat next to Nkululeko Mdudu, a student from NMMU.  He told us about his own initiation rites to become a man, and graciously answered my questions - some about the month he went to the mountain, and more about how much it meant to him and his family.  I thanked him for telling me information of such a private matter.  He answered, "Not at all.  I find that it is always best to share information.  Otherwise, we tend to think of another's practices as secret and strange."  True words.

Camdeboo National Park

Also near Graaff-Reinet is Camdeboo National Park.  This park is known for its animal and plant life, yes - but it is even more known for its topography.  Shelley said that we absolutely had to see the Valley of Desolation.  Our B & B owner Hilary said that we should see it at sunset.  We took heed of both pieces of advice.

We entered the park around 2:30 in the afternoon.   We drove the driving loop fairly slowly, but didn't see many animals (heat of the day and all).  The most exciting part was when we suddenly came to a point where the road dips down through a small river.  Now, remember we don't have a 4 x 4, we have a Toyota Corolla.  I was driving.  "Am I supposed to drive through that?"  I ask Jim.  But, there was no other alternative.  It was a one lane road.  No one had said we shouldn't go straight around.  It couldn't be too deep, right?   Jim says, "Back up and take a run at it."  I did, and we lived to tell the tale!  I think the stream's bottom even was paved - it felt solid - while the rest of the roadway was dirt all the way.

Now, I said we didn't see many animals.  But, we did see a few new ones.  We saw a Vervet monkey enjoying the shade.  We saw a mama baboon and her baby.  We didn't get a picture of them live, but here's a cave art rendition -

We had to yield at times to other traffic -

These ostriches had to cross the road

...as did this crag lizard.

At about 5:00, we entered the road that goes not through the Valley of Desolation, but up above it - way up above it!   We drove up to what is sometimes called the Cathedral of the Mountains, as from there you can see 360 degrees across a lot of the Karoo.  The road itself climbs 1400 meters up the mountain.  It was originally constucted by hand - using picks, shovels, wheel-barrows, plus a stick of dynamite here and there, I imagine.  (But I still can't imagine!)  The road was completed in 1930.   

Another hiker

We park and walk up the 1.5 km "Crag Lizard" Trail (we know what they look like now).   The walks have stunning views of The Valley of Desolation below.  I have never been to Arches National Park in Utah, but this may be similar.   I'm sure pictures don't do it justice, but here are a few.  (And, yes, we did watch the shadows change the valley as the sun went down.)

Valley of Desolation

Close-up of one rock formation:
It looks like a mother and child to me

 

The Owl House: Was she mad or quite sane?

The small hamlet of Nieu Bethesda is sometimes called "the village left behind in time."  To some degree, that is the choice of its inhabitants.  For example, the villagers chose to keep their dirt streets, even though the government was willing to pave them.  So, you drive miles from Graaff-Reinet on pot-holed, rugged gravel roads to get to Nieu Bethesda.

Why go there at all?  Because it has also become known as a small artisan village - with an active women's art cooperative, several small breweries, and a quite famous landmark - The Owl House.  Jim went for the beer; I went for the art.  It worked out; we both liked both.

The Owl House is the home and birthplace of a woman named Helen Martins.  She was a small, Afrikaans woman who lived in the arid Karoo desert all her life.  She was in two short marriages.  She cared for her father until he died.  (Her father apparently was not an easy man with whom to live.)  After his death in the 1950s, she lived alone in her parent's very modest house.

She is reported to have said, "I am tired of living with all the gray in my life."  Today, her small house is a heritage site.  When you go in, you see EVERY inch of her house - walls, ceilings, doors, windows, window sills, door frames, etc. covered with ground colored glass.

Pantry of "glass jars"

Her kitchen pantry is still lined with canning jars, but when you look more closely, you realize that each contains ground glass, and the jars are sorted by the size and color of the glass inside.

Here's one of the bedrooms.  Each stripe is a new color of ground glass:

Using the most basic materials (she ground the glass from beer and other discarded bottles), she spent twenty-five years creating an interior filled with light and color.  I would LOVE to stay overnight in this house with just candles burning.  I can't even imagine how the colors would be reflected and amplified by the differently shaped mirrors she also hung.

These two are trying to hold back the hands of time

She then tackled her smallish yard.  At one point she is hung a sign on her gate that read, "This is my world."  She herself hated to be seen in public, but she created a yard full of people.  Virtually every inch is filled with cement statues.  Sometimes religious in theme, sometimes showing women as subservient to men, her statues are each compelling.  Here are a few:

A woman obviously "bending over backward"

Many statues face east

After viewing the Owl House, Jim and I went to Two Goats Deli and Brewery, a place Leon Goerdt would really love.  We sat outside on a picnic table in the shade, eating a lunch of great bread, goat cheese, and their homemade beer.   Sadly, Helen Martins committed suicide in 1976, but we sat and discussed her work, what she must have been thinking, what her life may have been like.

We learned later that Athol Fugard has written a quite famous play called The Road to Mecca about her.  We have never seen it.  Have you?