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After Gansbaai, we drove north to Hermanus, a city by the sea and premiere whale-watching hub. Tourists invade the town every year to get their fix. Luckily, ’twas not the season, so all was quiet. We spent an evening at Zoete Inval Travellers Lodge run by a quirky fella, if by “quirky” I mean unapologetically racist. He’d have to be to open up with strangers about the decay of Hermanus after being overrun by “them.” According to Mr. Purebred, “They think they own the place.” Wowie.
Why patronize such an establishment and not stomp off in protest? Well, let me tell you. It was all part of the experience, and in many ways, reflected South Africa’s enormous cultural challenges. And, frankly, I was intrigued….
Lesser men may have succumbed to the thirst for revenge or the perceived imperative for karmic “justice.” Mandela was a different breed, the rarest of rare. He was sure of one thing—the only way for South Africa to recover and move toward prosperity was through forgiveness and reconciliation. And he knew the eyes of the world were on him. It was up to him to lead the way. And that’s exactly what he did from the moment he became a free man.
I could point to any number of actions, not the least of which was Mandela’s establishment of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission after becoming president, to underscore his commitment to forgiveness and the progress he believed would result therefrom, but I think the following anecdote says it all…
The next morning, we drove to the Cape of Good Hope with a breakfast picnic on a spectacular beach along the way. Even the three lumps of sand in our coffee, courtesy of the wind, weren’t enough to spoil that scene. If I had to recommend a “must do,” it would be renting a car and driving out to the Cape with plenty of stops. Take it slow. Take it in. Stand upon the cliffs near Cape Point and let the breeze envelop you, the shimmering azure sea mesmerize you, and try to imagine being the first human to lay eyes upon it. Yessir, ma’am.
Your only problem will be tearing yourself away. Get there as early as possible, and do your best to beat the crowds.…
I’d read you could frolic with cheetahs, tigers, lions, and even cage dive with crocs. I knew the potential for cheesiness was high, but I couldn’t resist the urge to touch those majestic furballs. So, when I read about Cango, I thought it might be worth a shot. They created a Cheetah Preservation Foundation in 1988 and seemed to have their shit together. Most of the big cats on hand were all rescues and unable to survive in the wild, though a select number of cheetahs were eligible for rehabilitation and release. I knew it was a glorified zoo, but still thought spending a few moments up close would make the setting tolerable. Wish in one hand, shit in the other… plop.
Though hesitant, we signed up for a guided tour of Cango
So annoyed by this was I (how dare you hog the lions), I turned down a road marked “No Entry” alongside the “camp.” I quickly realized the path wasn’t designed with a VW Polo (Safari Edition) in mind. Retreat! We discovered later the clearing forms part of a “hide” (i.e. a place where you can sit behind a wall and peek through special viewing slots designed for the purpose). There’s a waterhole in front to attract animals. I mistook the structure for a private camp. Oopsie-doopsie.
Imagine viewing a pride of lions when you spot a silver Volkswagen…
We left the Sani Pass area and began our foray through the back roads of central Drakensberg. Although we had a map and some vague idea of where we were, it felt a like we’d entered East Jesus. Small villages and large swaths of farmland were all we encountered for hours—beautiful and unsettling at the same time. Perhaps beautiful because it was unsettling…
Driving a VW Polo along an empty dirt road (we did pass what appeared to be two other tourists in a small red car at one point) can leave one lingering on thoughts of a breakdown. Sure, Avis provides twenty-four-hour roadside assistance, but service is contingent on them finding you… duh. Can you hear me now…
People started pouring in. Germans, Scandinavians, and Frenchies all found reasons to explore. Prospective farmers came to farm and supply the Dutch East India Company. Operations expanded, leading to an inevitable labor shortage. They needed cheap labor and they found it… but not where you’d think. The vast number of slaves that flooded the Cape Colony didn’t come from South Africa or even Africa. Most were imported from Indonesia, Madagascar, Sri Lanka, and other areas far away.
Racial co-mingling ensued. The Europeans humped other Europeans. They also humped the slaves. The diverse slave population humped each other. And everybody humped the local Khoekhoe tribes…
We decided to find another place to hang our hat and soon moved to a backpacker-oriented hostel named Gemini. Let's just say it was less than impressive. I understand it was the slow season and standards may slip a bit, but this place was unpleasant. I’ll use the word “shithole.” Our room was dark, depressing, and full of insect life. The communal kitchen felt neglected, and the rest of the facilities adhered to a similar decorum. After spotting a rat in the kitchen while cooking dinner, we chose to vacate the following day. Don't get me wrong, I love rats, just not in the kitchen.
While being driven from one guesthouse to the next...
1795 - British forces seize Cape Colony from the Netherlands. Territory is returned to the Dutch in 1803; ceded to the British in 1806.
1816-1826 - Shaka Zulu founds and expands the Zulu empire, creates a formidable fighting force.
1835-1840 - Boers leave Cape Colony in the 'Great Trek' and found the Orange Free State and the Transvaal.
1852 - British grant limited self-government to the Transvaal.
1856 - Natal separates from the Cape Colony.
Late 1850s - Boers proclaim the Transvaal a republic…
My feelings evolved. In the ensuing years, I experienced deep regrets and emotions that often threatened to overwhelm me in an instant. I wasn’t afraid she still had feelings for me, that she still needed me. I was afraid she didn’t, and I couldn’t bear the truth.
I’d fallen down an abandoned well of despair, one I believed I’d never escape. I didn’t want to see Leslie again. I needed to see her again. My life came to a standstill, an existential limbo. I thought of her life. What are you doing right now? Who are you doing it with? Do you ever think of me? Of us? Do you still have a warm place in your heart for our time together? Such thoughts could and would send me into a downward spiral that took days to recover from…