Jo-burg

Okavango's spell is upon us as we depart this morning. Today is destined to be a looonnnggg travel day. We hitch a ride with Dan back to Kasane by plane and then rekindle with Sims who buses us back to Victoria Falls airport for a flight out to Johannesburg. Luckily we didn't have any use for the fire prevention equipment provided at the air strip! I suspect we would have been in trouble.

The ride back to Zimbabwe from Botswana was a somber one. Botswana is bewitching and difficult to shake. But we were happy to see Sims again if only for a short while. We asked if there was anything we could do for him and his family and friends. He instructed us not to send anything to Zimbabwe as it would more than likely be confiscated by the government on route. If it made it through the duty would be so high that the recipient couldn't pay it and the government would end up with the goods anyway.

Sims' kids attend private school but there was some question about whether or not they would return to school after Christmas holiday. The teachers were anticipating a strike because salaries were so abysmal ($3 USD/month) as a result of escalating inflation. To add insult to injury, according to Sims, the government has mandated that only a certain portion of bank withdrawals will be honored. We now know they in fact did strike and that learners were turned away on opening day.

I forgot to mention earlier that when we entered Botswana we had to walk through poison to kill any remnants of hoof and mouth disease coming from Zimbabwe. I remembered this detail because after the plane doors were closed in Vic Falls, en route to South Africa, they announced that anyone suffering from bronchial disorders should take necessary precautions to cover their mouth and all should hide their eyes as the attendants walked up and down the aisle 4 times spraying some kind of fumigating disinfectant. Yikes!

We touched down in Johannesburg as we had 10 days earlier and reconnected with our Jo-burg guide who drove us into Sandton City's Mandela Square. The affects of Apartheid is still so glaring 20 years later. We passed through shanty towns where electrical lines hang like yarn above make-shift dwellings comprised of any random material available from corrugated metal to tarpaulins. This devastation just one or two blocks removed from gated mansions. Mendela Square itself is surrounded by a shopping center with fancy boutiques such as L.V., Prada, Gucci, and the like again isolated from the neighboring plight of Johannesburg's black citizenry.

The only souvenir of Africa I was interested in acquiring was drums. I had seen some in other locations but all had been a rudimentary interpretation of my vision. We had just enough time after arriving that afternoon to make it to the local marketplace before closing (and a major downpour). We entered the courtyard where peddlers accosted us relentlessly claiming that their bric -a-brac was better, cheaper, more authentic than their colleague's. I strolled around the kiosks, bewildered, until in a corner shop, where the shopkeep was tearing down for the night, I spotted my drums. Way up on a shelf, obscured by tribal masks and animal skins, lay two varying sized Ghana djembe drums - beautifully carved and tautly skinned with the hide of a sacrificial cow. I nonchalantly asked how much the man wanted for each - 900 for the large and 600 for the smaller. The South African Rand is worth roughly 10:1 USD so that would have been about $150 for the pair. That was significantly more than I wanted to spend and significantly more cash than I had on me (we were having a hard time getting cash from the ATM). As I pondered and stewed Patrick and I jabbed each other a little (again with a wonderful sense of humor). He is a gorgeous 30 something year old from Johannesburg. I was trying to grind him down and he was barely budging. I told him what I had in mind to pay but it was less than he was willing to accept. Our banter continued as I plotted how I was going to pay for the transaction. I only had US dollars, which he would have to pay a fee to exchange, and not quite enough of them to meet his demands anyhow so I was trying to scrounge more from my mates. In the meanwhile I said I wasn't going to buy the drums unless he played them for me. He made some excuse about being rusty but finally acquiesced. He played an INCREDIBLE beat for a few minutes and made it look effortless. I've subsequently experienced just how hard it actually is. As I was spouting accolades he impressed on me that a good djembe drummer doesn't just pull it out of the air. He said, at least for him, the inspiration, the beat, the passion comes from deep within and happens spontaneously. With this information we set off on a more spiritual conversation. We finally agreed on the low, low price of 950 Rand for both drums, though there may have been a hint of reluctance on his part. He wrapped them in wads of paper for me so they wouldn't nick during my travels. We were leaving tomorrow for Camp Mala Mala in north eastern South Africa. Mission accomplished. Now I just had to figure out how to transport them! Thankfully Cheryl had a large duffel bag that she had no intention of using and it was a perfect fit. We lugged our newly acquired keepsakes back to our hotel just as the sky opened up to refresh the "greenest city in Africa".

This evening was nothing extraordinarily memorable just the group getting together for drinks and a meal on the square before retiring early so we could make our 6 am wake-up call. But what was memorable is our first night in Johannesburg 10 days or so earlier.

After a 20 hour flight & lost luggage drama we were excited to get out on the town for some fun. We were pumped about being in Africa and in a celebratory mood. Beth had traveled on one of these excursions before and knew that dinners and spending could get out of hand so she talked Cheryl and I into avoiding that scene and going off for a threesome. We roved around the shopping mall a bit looking for the food court. There were lots of interesting choices - no Mickie D's but KFC was there - but we settled on pizza. We decided to share a wood-fired BBQ curry chicken on flatbread pizza. OMG! I'm not a pizza lover but this was THE best pizza I've ever had. Delish. From there we were in search of libations but a side trip to the gelato bar held us up. Outside a few restaurants and bars face the square. A light rain made it feel clean and fresh in the night air and made the Christmas lights sparkle like twinkling stars. We wandered around taking it all in and looking for just the right setting to have a night cap. Settling on Caffe Della Salute the jammin' urban music lured us in. Beth and I wanted to try some good South African wine but Cheryl prefers cocktails. She ordered a banana banshee from the signature menu. Good conversation accompanied by cool grooves and ambiance topped off our first night in Africa and set the stage for what proved to be the trip of a lifetime.