Thanks, Eskom

Language Competence class giving presentations in windowless lecture hall, despite load-shedding.

A Walk in the Park

Nduli Nature Reserve is on the outskirts of town, and is a sanctuary from the melee that is Mthatha:  taxi drivers, robot-runners, white bakkies, queue jumpers and pothole dodgers.

This is where I like to go on a Saturday or Sunday morning (sometimes both days), with My Friend (and occasionally some Other Friends).  It's a brisk 4.6km hike, and we do it in about an hour.  Bob cycles the route twice in the same time we do one circuit.  He reckons that if My Friend and I didn't talk each other to death, we'd be able to do it a lot quicker.

Of course, he doesn't take into account the times we stop for the bokkies, which is delightfully often.

What part of NO ENTRY do you not understand?

There doesn't appear to be any poaching in the Reserve, despite the poverty in the area.  Apparently the reason is that venison is not a taste of choice.

We also stop to look at the birds...

The hoopoe is one of my favourites

 ...and the butterflies...

There have been quite a few of these Eyed Pansies lately. So pretty. (This isn't my pic , they're too tricksy for me to capture)

About fifteen minutes into the walk, you can take a detour into the Rock Garden

Sanctuary within a sanctuary

I can find very little detail about its history

...but I do know that this site has a cache (read about Geocaching here).  We've found it, but haven't logged our visit yet, as we'd like to add something special to the cache before we do. We haven't quite worked out what yet, but want it to be Mandela related; though not something that another Geocacher can take away with them (which is permitted, as long as they replace it with something of equal of greater value). 

The cliff face, evidence that this used to be a quarry. Wonder if the cache is nearby?

Cascades of Pride of De Kaap in the Rock Garden.

We saw this Giant African Land Snail. Dead, fortunately, or I would have shrieked like a girl

 There are very few visitors to the Nature Reserve (about ten per week), and this shell has lain undisturbed for over a month. In fact there are so few visitors, My Friend has walked in her bikini top a few times, to get rid of  the T-shirt tan she's developed.  I'm not brave enough to do that.  Besides, if Bob sees me, he might just fall off his bike.

There's this funny little building in the rock garden.  No graffiti or signs of recent occupation.  Wondering if it used to be a watchman's hut?

There must have been quite a bit of traffic here.  Many, many years ago.

Dogs are not allowed in Nduli.  Apparently, if they are seen in the Reserve, they are shot by the rangers.

Yup.  Here'll be dogs.

 The cost of accommodation in and around Mthatha is exorbitant (worse than in Cape Town), whether you are overnighting, renting or buying. I've heard rumours that there's quite a bit of pressure from developers to release this 'wasted' land for development.  It hope it stays that way, just a rumour.

Oh, while I'm here, stopping traffic...

Who say the traffic police in Mthatha don't have a sense of pride in their jobs? This officer opted for a pop-up valet for his vehicle while he was on point duty.

Doing Assignments Mthatha Style

This on-campus experience has really opened my eyes as to the passion people in this country have, in order to get an education.

Lectures have been cancelled three days this week because of power cuts. I spoke to two fellow students today. One travels from Port St Johns and the other travels from Mount Frere every day for lectures. That's a long way. And it's not cheap at R80 for the taxi each way. One is studying to teach Maths and Science. The other is studying to teach English and History. They are both incredibly accepting of the situation, as they are used to it. I would have flipped long ago.

Enough procrastination. Let me continue writing about 'Factors contributing to poor academic performance in Grade 12 for Economic and Management Science' (Please note, the wine is compulsory for this kind of essay)

Water, Water, Everywhere . . .

Part 1:

So, I'm sitting at my desk on a cloudy day, and hear a 'WHOOMPH' from outside.  Being the nosy concerned neighbour that I am, I go and investigate . ..

The road is flooded . . .

 . . .with water streaming out of my neighbour's gate.

I see that the wall of the neighbour behind him has collapsed from the pressure of water

And so, being the nosy concerned neighbour that I am, I go and investigate . .

One road up, the situation is much the same, so I wade on up to the N2.

Aha! A burst water main.  The now defunct orange temporary fencing tells me that this is not the first time there has been a problem here.

I follow the trail of the water along a row of oh-so-glamorous Vibracrete

 

 

 

The water had only one small hole through which to escape - down someone's driveway, over the road, and into my neighbour's neighbour's yard, where it was stopped by a wall.  The water level rose to about 1 metre before the wall collapsed.  Apparently the whole house was flooded, and all the carpeting and furniture needs to be replaced.  

This hadeda thinks the flooding from the overflowing sewer is quite fun

Excitement over.  Time to go home for a cup of coffee. Great idea, except that there's no water to fill the kettle.  Good thing we have a water tank.

Part 2:

You may have noticed the orange temporary fencing in the first picture.  It's been there since October last year, when the Municipality decided to lay new sewage pipes.  They  laid the pipes, erected the safety fencing, then went away to do something else. Here are the before and after pics:

Then. A neat verge to park and put out your rubbish. 

Now.  No verge, piles of soil, orange temporary fencing and a missing tree.

Back to the flood:  All that water had to go somewhere. Much of it went into the trenches left by the municipality.

All the sewage pipes got filled up with the flood water.  And mud.  The sound effects were quite delightful.

 But wait, there's more:  The flood shifted the orange fences, and the inevitable happened:

This white bakkie was stuck in this trench for over an hour, until another white bakkie came along to pull him out.

Weekend Away: Bulungula

A year ago, when we learned that we were relocating to Mthatha, a friend said, "Ooh, you MUST go to Bulungula, it's AMAZING!"  She was right, and I'm sorry it's taken us so long to get there. 

The map says the travelling time from Mthatha is 3 hours.   This is true, unless you take a 25km detour, as we did.  The directions are good, but there are so many roadworks, the distinction between main and subsidiary roads can become a bit blurred.

An advantage of the detour - we got to see that the washing of vehicles in rivers is not restricted to taxis and bakkies

Some of the landmarks can also a bit tricky to identify..."After another 10km you will drive through a small stream and soon after you will reach the Arts Centre – turn right here (Embekweni Store will be on your right)..."

Embekweni Store was open for business on Sunday afternoon

We arrived at dusk, and had to negotiate the hilly, grassy 500m from the car park with all our luggage and two dogs* on leads . . . in soft, soaking rain.  It was pitch dark by the time we arrived at Reception.

The view from our hut in the morning made the soggy slog worthwhile though:

The view of the sea from our hut.  The blue building is the reception/dining/kitchen/lounge area.

The view of the Bulungula River from our hut

All the buildings are beautifully painted in cheerful colours.  Kilo, the resident dog-who-must-be-patted basks in the morning sunshine.

The goats are quite used to humans, but don't like being patted.

They prefer to wait at the entrance to the campsite - where the grass is greener, of course.

The unisex toilets are a riot of colour, and immaculately maintained

Telling it like it is - on the back of each toilet door

This cubicle, for some unknown reason, is the most used toilet at Bulungula, and the system battles with the amount of waste it has to process.

For a special treat, you can use the forest shower, which is fuelled by paraffin and tissue paper in a delightfully noisy pipe contraption which heats the water long enough for a steaming hot 7-minute shower.

Or you could go for a more rustic option. Light a fire under the bath and ablute with a view of the sea

Saturday morning was glorious, and we explored the mouth of the river before heading off down the beach.

The dogs were intrigued by this peculiar looking dog they encountered

Bulungula has several activities which involve the community.  Here, a local takes a visitor fishing. 

There are quite a few large branches along the beach which have been stripped of their bark by the elements.  Some of them look quite apocalyptic.

Harry, at 15, is getting a bit old for these long excursions, and was quite happy to hitch a ride in the backpack

On our way back, we are reminded that people are living here - wood needs to be collected, and rivers need to be played in

Maintenance is ongoing, even on Sunday morning.  

The Xhosa bread is amazing.  When last did you see a bread slicer like that?

There is a library with books ranging from a tourist guide to the Peninsula in Chinese,  to fantasy, crime thrillers, some rather obscure textbooks and a book on the history of the trading stations in the Eastern Cape.

On Sunday we explored the goat-free campsite and decided that this is where we're going to stay next time.  Because there will definitely be a next time. Everything is perfect - eco-facilities, price, hospitality, yummy food, beauty, community responsibility and friendly staff.

 

This donkey visited us and was quite happy to be patted. Aren't those clouds glorious?

A perfect end to a perfect  weekend - chilling with a book.  Even with such heavy cloud cover, we got sunburned - don't forget the sunscreen.

* Dogs are welcome, as long as they don't chase the chickens and goats.  So, the first thing Jasper did on Saturday morning was chase a chicken.  The dogs spent the rest of the weekend on leads, unless we were on the beach. Late Sunday morning, one of the staff asked why we kept them tied up, and we told her.  "No man,"  she said, "let them off.  The chickens must look after themselves."  And of course she was right.