Nature, Nature, Nature -- Part 3 -- Addo Elephant Park

The next two days we spent at Addo National Park, just north of Port Elizabeth. This was a wildlife reserve that specialized in elephants, and we saw LOTS of them. The park itself had a herd that numbered around 400 elephants. The main thing to do was game drives. On a game drive, you creep through the park in your car at about 3mph. Now, this may sound terribly boring, but it wasn't in the least, because the animals were everywhere!

We saw a turtles, ostriches, birds, zebra, and several types of antelope species. I fell in love with warthogs, who look like cute, squat dogs with tusks. There were warthogs with their babies all over the park, little squat piglings following their mamas. Now I see why warthogs are popular characters in Disney movies.

In the game area, visitors were not allowed to get out of their cars because the park has a few lions. The lions weren't there originally, but without predators, the other species were getting out of control. We didn't see a lion -- our only disappointment.

Several of the roads went near watering holes where the animals congregate. At two different spots, we just parked the car and watched for 30 or 45 minutes. During that time, we were able to see probably 50 or 75 elephants drinking, washing, and playing. At one point, a small herd on its way to the watering hole passed within five feet of my face. Amazing! With the elephants, pictures really are worth a thousand words, so here's a 6,000 word essay:

Africa, in my imagination, had always been about a countryside densely packed with very traditional cultures. With Addo, I saw a different side -- the wide open savannas that support some of the most extraordinary creatures on the planet.

Nature, Nature, Nature -- Part 2 -- Tsitsikamma

The next day was a good day. After a rather disastrous attempt at braiing(grilling) the night before, we woke up early so we could hike the first part of the Otter Trail in Tsitsikamma National Forest. This trail was right along the coast. The rocks looked as if they had once lain flat, but now had been pushed upwards by plate tectonics to stand vertically. When the trail wandered just 10 meters inland, we immediately entered a jungle-like canopy of vines and trees.



During the hike three-hour hike, we discovered a huge cave, and then ate our lunch by a waterfall that emptied into shallow tidal pools. When we tried to get closer to the waterfall itself, and Lynn slipped down below a bush. It looked like she had been swallowed by the earth, and my heart lurched, but she was fine—just clumsy.

Lynn showed her clumsiness on the way back from the waterfall too. With only 1k left to go, she twisted her ankle, and then shortly thereafter fell and skinned her knee. But each time, she just picked herself up and carried on, grimacing but not complaining. Not only was she clumsy, but she was plucky too. I thought “Plumsy” would be a good nickname, but I’m not sure if Lynn was thrilled with it.

Nature, Nature, Nature -- Part 1

After wine country, we headed east driving through rolling plains of farmland. When we finally joined the coastline, we could see the azure waters of the Indian ocean off to our right. The road climbed and fell on long, sloping hills, occasionally passing through patches of thick, towering old-growth forest.

We made good time on the first day, running from wine country to the coastline at Knysna (pronounced “Nīz-nə” in IPA or “Nighs-neh”). The road were straight and fast, a two-lane highway with humongous shoulders. At first, I was unnerved to see cars driving 60mph on the shoulder while a faster car overtook them on the road at 80 or 90mph. Quickly, however, I realized that the shoulder was just used as an extra lane. Sometimes, a car would overtake into oncoming traffic; the driver simply expected that the oncoming traffic would shift to the shoulder. Fortunately, they always did!

Knysna was nothing special, but the next day we hiked and drove in a beautiful, old-growth forest for an hour or two, climbing to the top of a small peak for an excellent view of the countryside. Then we continued along the coastline, eventually coming to a brother and sister pair of nature parks, called Monkeyland and World of Birds. Monkeyland was as terrible as the name suggests. It charged a huge (for Africa) entrance fee for a 45-minute walk with an unenthusiastic tour guide. The monkeys themselves were cool, but the place seemed a little seedy and they didn’t take very good care of their animals. The guide told us, for example, that one species of monkey introduced to the park a few years ago had been slain in great numbers by the other monkeys. The few remaining ones were now caged. I would think that, if they had a decent zoologist on staff, they could have avoided a monkey massacre.


The bird sanctuary was surprisingly wonderful after Monkeyland. Here, enormous metal poles had been erected so that the nets enclosing the sanctuary rose above the top of the forest canopy. Wooden bridges at different levels in the canopy criss-crossed the sanctuary, giving an Indiana Jones feel to the place. Hundreds of different of birds roamed inside. Even though I don’t like birds much, I was fascinated and snapped away with my camera, wishing that had a big telephoto lens.

Eventually we found a small, open-air restaurant which overlooked a pond full of ducks and flamingos. Fresh from our trip in wine country, we both ordered glasses of wine and a snack, and sat down for a break. Immediately, several opportunistic birds befriended us in the hopes of getting a morsel of our scones. Their talons were sharp, and they were particularly interested in anything shiny, like my eyeglasses. Before going into the park, Lynn had to remove her earrings because the birds had been known to rip them out. The little green guy who was most aggressive decided he really wanted a taste of our wine. Stupidly, I let him try, and moments later the glass shattered and fragments flew everywhere.

No Whining about Wining

Just an hour’s drive from Cape Town is the Cape Wineland district, where a majority of South Africa’s wine industry is based. Lynn very much wanted to do some wine tastings. I agreed, but didn’t look forward to it much. Wine is for snobs, I thought. Me, I’m a beer drinker. I don’t even like the taste of wine.


Thank goodness Lynn wanted to go, because I fell in love with touring wineries. First of all, they were beautiful. We stayed in Franschoek, a small, touristy town nestled in a lush green valley between a craggy mountain. Everywhere we turned, there was another beautiful vista. Many of the wineries themselves were built on impressive estates, with ornate gates and immaculately manicured lawns.

Each had a distinctly different personality. Cabriere Estate, which made sparkling wine (a.k.a. Champagne), was high-class with a hint of whimsy. There we took a cellar tour, to see the bubbly aging in row after of French-made casks. Once out of the cellar, we tried the wines – which were just blah – and looked at the ginormous elephant bone which had a map of the valley carved on it.


One of my favorite wineries was Fairview Estates, which both had the best-tasting affordable wines and a great sense of whimsy. Approaching the main building, the first thing we saw was a jungle gym-like tower for goats. Inside, we got a good deal: try seven wines, plus a cheese tasting, for just US$2. This wine tasting thing was starting to look like a good deal.


We tried several wines just because we liked their names, such as “Goats Do Roam,” which is a pun on a type of wine called Côtes du Rhome, and “The Goatfather,” which pictured an old billy goat as a mafia Don. Ultimately I liked a non-punny wine, the 2005 Fairview Shiraz, and bought two bottles. I’m curious how much this wine would cost in the U.S., so if anybody sees it, please let me know. In South Africa, at the winery, it was under US$9.

One question that kept nagging at me while we toured the wine areas was, “Where are all the black people?” The town we stayed in was decidedly touristy, and although all the service staff were black or coloured, there was no way they could afford to live in town. So where did all the staff come from? Finally, I got my answer when I went out for a long run before our second day of tasting. About three miles down the main road out of Franschoek, behind a copse of trees, a small road led off to the right. Here, the houses were decidedly down-market, although they weren’t the shantytowns that we had seen in Cape Town. The population was entirely nonwhite. There was a grocery store, but I doubt it was as well stocked as the one in town. So that’s what happened to the blacks: just as in other parts of South Africa, they were shunted out of sight, to work for the whites but otherwise not to be seen or heard.

All the wineries we had toured so far were white-owned. Although they employed black workers, there were fewer black workers serving customers than there were working the fields. During the entire trip, only once did I see a black manager in a restaurant or bar. Even though South Africa now has majority rule, how will it ever correct the inequality in income and capital that are the results of apartheid? Approximately 13% of South Africa’s population is white, but they control 87% of the land and capital in the country. As long as the rule of law prevails, how will nonwhites ever come to parity with whites who hold the purse strings, farms, factories, ranches, and bank accounts?

The last winery we visited, Solms-Delta, answered this question in an interesting way. It was one of a few wineries in which the employees have become partial owners and managers of the estate. At Solms, the white owner of the estate takes 50% of the profits, and a trust to benefit the employees takes the other 50%. The trust has been used to build good accommodation for workers, to provide health care, and to pay school and university fees for workers’ children.

Out of more than 100 wineries in the region, there are perhaps half a dozen that have schemes similar to this one. It’s a promising start, but the scale is far too small to bring about a substantial shift in capital ownership from whites to nonwhites. How South Africa can achieve any sort of income parity between whites and blacks is a critical question that remains to be answered. If it allows the invisible hand of the market to lead the way, generations may pass with little change. If it takes white farms and wineries and redistributes them to poor blacks who have little knowledge of farming or capital, as Zimbabwe is doing, South Africa will no longer be an economic success story. What is the middle ground that preserves South Africa’s economy while enabling its citizens to share in its wealth?

These are all important questions for South Africa, but after three wine tastings this day, Lynn and I were in no condition to answer them!

Robben Island

Robben’s Island was another ‘must see.’ It was once the prison where Nelson Mandela and many other anti-apartheid activists were jailed. Now, it has become a national monument to which tourists and school children pay homage.

After a 45-minute boat ride from Cape Town, we debarked on the island and turned right towards the main gate. When I first saw the forbidding entrance gates to the prison, they were emblazoned with a slogan that momentarily reminded me of the gates of Auchwitz. I worried that the curators of the Island would portray the political incarceration there in a similar light. As bad as apartheid was, it cannot match the 12 million souls exterminated in the Holocaust. Fortunately, the curators chose instead to emphasize the Island’s role in the struggle for majority rule in South Africa. While they mentioned the hardships and cruelty inflicted upon inmates, the focus was squarely on how the island served as an incubator for anti-apartheid thought and action.


Physically, the island is a small, flat rocky piece of land about 7½ miles from Cape Town. There are few tall trees, and very little shelter from the winds that come across Table Bay. From the southern and eastern sides of the island, Cape Town is easily visible as symbol of freedom that was just out of reach of the prisoners. There is also a large cell block complex, a quarry, and pleasant accomodation for the wardens, guards, and their families.


The Island began to be used for political prisoners in the 1960s, when nonwhites reacted against the newly instated apartheid laws. Prior to its use for political prisoners, it was a regular prison for criminals. When Mandela arrived in 1962, he shared space with the criminals, who were urged by wardens to abuse the political inmates.

Our tour guide – who had been a political prisoner on the island himself – drove us to a a large quarry used for hard labor. In the quarry was a small cave that had been used as a toilet. Unbeknownst to most of the guards, inmates also used that cave as a makeshift classroom. They taught each other everything from basic literacy to revolutionary tactics and philosophy. Our guide told us that a few illiterate guards even learned to read from the inmates!

South African authorities used a variety of techniques to try to break inmates’ spirits. Just being housed on the island, with the freedom of Cape Town in view, must have been demoralizing. In the early years, inmates were only allowed one visit and one letter per year. The authorities also tried to divide and conquer, by giving different privileges to different racial classifications. Asians and ‘coloureds’ got slightly more food than blacks, for example.


Some inmates, like Mandela, were placed in single cells. On the tour we saw his cell, which had blankets for sleeping, a table for writing, and a bucket for a toilet. It was small, but my first room in NYC was actually smaller. The cells would have been quite cold in winter as there was no heat and temperatures could plunge below freezing. Our guide told us that inmates were issued four blankets when they arrived, and normally they slept on two and under two. But when it got really cold, they had to decide whether to wrap up and sleep without padding, or whether to have a softer but colder bed.


Other inmates were housed in dormitory units. In the dorms, inmates were graded by different letters, according to how compliant they had been. ‘D’ inmates were allowed the fewest letters and visits, and received no extra rations. ‘C’ inmates received some extra rations, ‘B’ prisoners, received even more, etc. Each prisoner started as a ‘D,’ but with good behavior he could move up the ladder. The intention was to reward good behavior, but also to set the inmates against each other by creating a hierarchy that wily prisoners could exploit. However, the activists found a solution. The men in each dorm decided that all the extra rations were to be shared equally. In this way, as in many other small examples, Robben’s Island served as an incubator for the revolutionary unity.

Ultimately, seeing Robben Island was interesting in an intellectual way. Fortunately – both for me and for all of South Africa – it didn't pack the emotional punch of that prison it first reminded me of. But the island does serve as a continuing symbol of the cruelty of apartheid, of the inmates’ inspiring response to their captivity, and as a light of hope for South Africa’s future.

Cape Town!

Do forgive me, but I was on vacation for the next few entries, so they will sound a little travelogue-ish. I'm no Paul Theroux (thank goodness), but hopefully you will find Cape Town, the Winelands, and Addo Elephant Park as beautiful as my friend Lynn and I did.

Cape Town itself is a beautiful, modern city which reminded me most of San Francisco. Like San Fran, it is set right on an ocean, at the beginning of the Cape Peninsula in the southwesternmost part of Africa. Like San Francisco, it is very hilly. During the time I was driving in Cape Town, I had to use the emergency break just to avoid sliding backwards on the hills. Also like San Francisco, there is a former prison in the harbor which has now been turned into a tourist attraction. Not far outside Cape Town lie gorgeous valleys full of vineyards. Finally, it is known as one of South Africa’s most liberal cities, and the home of SA’s gay community. Sound familiar, no?


Cape Town, at least the central and formerly all-white areas of it, is thoroughly modern. Car whizz by at all hours. When night falls, the city is awash in electric light. Posters advertise for coming concerts, movies, and stage plays. Internet cafes have broadband connections, and travelers sit in them with earplugs and microphones, using Skype to takl to family back home. Huge western-style malls are packed with goods. During the trip, I probably spent 12 total hours just browsing around the malls, half of that time in a Borders-like chain store called Exclusive Books. I was so happy that there were books to buy!


Then, there was food. After four months of eating mostly rice and veggies, goat, pasta with butternut, and oshifima with canned fish, the breadth of food choices overwhelmed me, and I gorged myself. In only six days, Lynn and I tried Middle-Eastern (complete with belly dancer and hookah), Italian, Portugese, pizza, Caribbean, and a traditional pub-style burger and fries. There was always a part of a Cadbury’s bar, not available in my town up north, in one of our backpacks for snacking. I think I regained about 10 of the pounds that I lost!


We also hit the major tourist highlights of Cape Town and learned about its history. First, we walked around the Bo-Kaap area, a brightly coloured neighborhood that has traditionally been home to the Cape’s Malaysian Muslim community. That’s right, Malaysian Muslims. When whites first arrived in the area, there were indigenous Khoi and San peoples already on the land, but they were nomadic pastoralists and hunter-gatherers. The population density was thus very low. As the whites began to use intensive agricultural techniques, they had to import labor from Malaysia and from the Zulu and Xhosa areas which lay far to the east. The Bo-Kaap area was where many of the Malays settled, and the minarets of several mosques rise above the primary-color palette of the houses.

Another highlight was Table Mountain. This large mountain, which has a flat, table-like top, is smack dab in the center of the city. The city surrounds the mountain on all sides, but the mountain itself is a national park festooned with hiking trails. We joined up with two Peace Corps Volunteers, Jason & Janet, and took a cab to the Kirstenbosch Botannical Garden to begin our hike. I wish that my uncle Ed could have come with us to the Garden, because he would have adored it. The grounds were huge and featured species native to southern Africa. One of the specialties of the Cape environment is called fynbos, which literally translates as “fine bush.” These are small bushes that are adapted to grow in the misty, damp, 'Mediterranean' climate of the cape.

After the gardens, we began our climb up Nurse’s Gorge, a steep valley with a trail that went straight up, including some scrambling, for well over an hour. Luckily, most of that hike we were in cool shade. When we got to the top of the gorge, we found huge rocks looking south, and sunned ourselves on them for half an hour before moving on. After a couple more hours hiking, we found ourselves at the edge of the flattop ridge that gives Table Mountain its name. From here, we looked down onto the high rise buildings and wealthy houses of central Cape Town. To the left, the outlines of the smaller hills named Lion’s Head and Lion’s Rump were visible. Robben’s Island, where Nelson Mandela spent about 20 years in prison, lay far out in Table Bay. The view was stunning, and the pictures hardly do it credit.




After five days in Cape Town, much eating, and a visit to see the play Doubt (which I highly recommend), it was time to rent a car and get out of Cape Town. We did just that, and I jumped into the right-hand drive car, drove the wrong way down the road, and headed straight for wine country!