I flew back to the states via Johannesburg. After our rafting adventure in Vic Falls, we celebrated our survival at the local hostel. (With about 100 Swedish over-landers… yikes!) A poster advertised their ‘sister’ hostel in Jo’burg. Easy and convenient, I booked. On the first night the only other occupant in the dorm was a Peace Corps guy finishing his duties in Lesotho. Awaking to a massive down pour, with no sign of stopping, the hostel owner (who lived there with his family… it was more like his house with a bunch of bunk beds in one of the rooms) offered to drop us off at the mall to catch a movie. Very cultural, indeed! But I love going to the movies. The Peace Corps dude was a ‘Master’ in African history and since in South Africa it seemed only appropriate to watch Invictus. Good choice for a rainy day in SA.
Small world-ness case 1:
As the owner’s 7 year old daughter sat on the bed doing my hair, into the dorm walks a guy I had met in Malawi. Small world. We shared our adventures and travels from the past couple of months. We were in the suburbs of Jo’burg (read: this hostel did not have bar), plus I was exhausted from a hard day at the cinema I went to sleep early.
Small world-ness case 2:
I stir from a light sleep as two new people arrived in the dorm room. Malawi acquaintance seems to know them… I open my eyes only to realize, so do I. I had also met them in Malawi… only on a separate occasion. Crazy small world.
J and I both had night flights back to the states. He had hoped to spend his last day in Africa getting a firsthand perspective of HIV/AIDS in SA. But no luck at gaining access to a clinic. So we started chatting about going out to one of the townships. A tour was expensive… and touristy. We can do this on our own… we are Americans after all! But which one isn’t that dangerous? And how to get there? We seek local advice.
Taxi – too dangerous. And expensive. Sure to be mugged and stranded somewhere.
Train – too dangerous. Will be mugged and thrown off the tracks. Will probably die.
Walking – too dangerous. And too far. Muggings are highly likely.
Bus – too dangerous. But chances of muggings and certain death are the most minimal.
Hmmm…
The hostel owner insists on dropping us and picking us up from the mini bus terminal. He directs us to go to a not-super-dangerous township. We asked a woman where she was headed. Sounds ok (but really what do we know?). We asked the mini-bus driver to drop us at the same place and climbed in the front seat with another passenger… 4 in the front is way better than 50 wedged in the back. Score.
Is it better to have nothing if mugged? Or to have something to give them for their efforts? We flipped a coin and went with the former, literally leaving everything in the hostel and only bringing along exact fare for the mini-bus. The township residents etch out an amazing existence… out of nothing and everything. Our rubbish becomes their homes. Their worldly possessions. ‘Houses’ made out of scrapes yet with meticulous flower beds out front. Roses in bloom. A small group of girls follows us for a while. Giggling. And giggling. And giggling. They guided us away from the sections of ‘town’ where death was certain and “people are stabbed”. Thanks girls.
Jason and I survived the adventure and bid adieu at our departure gates. Honestly, it all seemed rather tame. No big encounter. No big trouble. Over exaggerations? Or our under awareness?
No comments:
Post a Comment