South Africa – Beautiful Country – but … Part 1.
Table of Contents
My Experiences 1
1
The Cape of Good Hope 1
The cape 2
My Experiences
Must be over thirty years since my wife and I decided on a holiday to S. Africa. The recommendation came from a good friend who had visited S Africa several times – both for business and pleasure – and raved about the beauty of the country and the open spaces – he was also a restauranteur and he highlighted food and drink as being excellent. In that respect – he was spot on.
We rented a lovely house on Bloubergstrand -right on the West Cape coast and just fifteen minutes’ drive into Cape Town – a wonderful city in a beautiful country – and drove many miles to explore the Cape’s endless bays and miles of white sand – drove the Garden Route – walked on the top of Table Mountain – and had some great days out, visiting the vineyards of Stellenbosch – for a wine tasting followed by a top-class hamper picnic lunch – containing the wine we had chosen – so good we did it twice – But not on the same day!
and avoided the baboons near the Cape of Good Hope to get to, what turned out to be, my highlight.
The Cape of Good Hope
Sometimes referred to as ‘Cape Point’.
My speciality, as a Business Studies lecturer and trainer, was International Trade – mostly export Management – because importing is bloody boring.
I was born and brought up on Merseyside – when Birkenhead had a thriving port. My dad worked in Cammell Lairds, the shipbuilder – who still exist, but are constantly struggling to find something to build.
My sister and I were taken to the launch of the first Polaris submarine –he had worked on it in the 1960s. I remember a giant cigar sliding down the slipway, with snapping chains flying and its nose dipping under the water and then emerging to float serenely.
It was inevitable, that I grew up with an abiding interest in ships – which led me to explore the history of shipping and incorporate relevant bits in books, lectures and seminar notes – and, in fact to become an RYA approved yacht sailor, for pleasure – maybe more on that, another time.
One of the most fascinating periods in sailing history – was the race for sea speed leading into the 1850s – driven by just one cargo – China Tea – and the fact that the rich hostesses of London were desperate to serve the first tea of the new season – not least because it was extremely expensive – a real status symbol.
Tea caddies from that time are not only beautiful in design and build but, always, lockable to protect the valuable contents.
The first ships to deliver the new season’s cargoes to the London, or, later, the USA’ auction houses, made massive profits – enough to build more and faster ships with enormous spreads of sail – known as the Tea Clippers.
The fastest British Clipper ship of that time, was, the, well known – Cutty Sark.
She soon became eclipsed when the Americas joined in – coffee was now seen as common – and the money was in tea.
Primarily the Kentucky Clippers began winning the races, just by adding more sail.
A whole new fleet emerged, beating previous times – many with ‘Witch’ in their name e.g.
The Sea Witch and The Witch of the Wave.
For those who had a home port of Salem (remember the Salam Witches.)
The cape
I found, standing on the edge of the Cape, quite emotional – I knew that, over the centuries thousands of sailors had died on its dangerous rocks and in its turbulent waters.
Clipper ships were built for speed – not comfort. Sailors were expendable. In all weathers, they were manning the rigging i.e. climbing into the ropes to reach the sails at all heights to manually ‘trim’ them to maximise speed. Any man overboard was lost – because the need for speed meant no turning back to recover them.
The only cargo that mattered was the tea – so space was limited for anything else – such as sleeping quarters. To this day a sailing ship’s ropes are referred to as ‘sheets’ – their historical multi – purpose was sailors tying themselves to a yardarms – the horizontal spars on vertical masts – supporting the sails. – in an attempt to get some sleep.
It is often said, that the dangers around the Cape, are caused by the warm Indian Ocean meeting the cold Atlantic – but in fact that’s not true – they actually meet further west at Cape Agulhas – but it still makes for a tricky approach to- what was named as Good Hope – because, if you were sailing from the East and got past it and could tack starboard to head north along the African coast, a British sailor had good hope of getting home alive.
So South Africa had a lot going for it –
Beautiful country
Quality dining options
Twelve hours flying – but no jet lag -same longitude as the UK
Drive on the left
Good quality shopping (my wife said)
What little contact we had with black citizens – security, cleaner etc. – quite pleasant and friendly.
BUT –
White population – two types
1. UK/ European ex pats – working or permanently retired – no problem.
2 Native Boars /Afrikaners – arrogant, rude, ignorant throwbacks – we only seem to have come across, the males – so can’t actually comment on the females.
Our first trip was before the first post–apartheid election, with the ANC as favourites.
1 The Boar men clearly thought that they would continue to run the country
2
Example:
My wife and I are walking, in partially developed woodland. On a rough, narrow path, following lunch and going back to the car park.
Ahead of us – maybe 15 metres – one man appears on the left, near the path, and calls over a man we can’t see on the right. Man, on the right, appears from nowhere and they commence a face to face conversation completely blocking the path.
My wife – (clarify it – Jean) – stops and says we’ll go around or another way.
By now I am pissed off – I said, no just carry on for now – they will move.
We walk straight to them – Jean slightly behind me – pulling me back – and I get within touching distance of the first one -who instigated this – maybe deliberately – who knows?
His reaction – he turns to his left – to present his back to me, blocking the path even more – and carries on talking – in that ugly Afrikaner accent – I think louder than previously.
Now I am more than pissed off – I am bloody annoyed.
I get Jean to step back a bit and off the path – She insists we should walk around – I say, it’s too far gone for that and say she should walk around, and I’ll see her on the other side. To her credit she stays where she was – probably anticipating having to pick me up!
The thing in situations like this, is to stay cool – and recognise a bully – this one was born to be a bully – into a highly privileged sector of the population who could tell anyone what to do without question (particularly – blacks) and nobody – outside of his tribe – could tell him what to do.
So – nothing more than a bully – universal rule – look them in the eye and never blink. Remember – hey are more frightened than you are.
In my youth I tried martial arts training – Wing Chun Kung Fu. Got me fitter and a green belt- but never got to use it much.
PS. I left the green belt in my Birkenhead home – when I returned to Preston as a student.
Next time I got back – it was nailed to a door as a draft excluder!
So, the big lad has turned his back on me – and I want his attention – there is a blow in Wing Chun and other forms – which is a suite simple stiff four finger strike -ideally to a sensitive area.
I poked him quite hard around his kidneys – no real damage but does get some attention.
He turned to face me – but actually looked more confused, than annoyed.
It did occur to me, that if he was the local Mayor or Police Commander – I had made a mistake – and was I was about to discover S. African police cells.
He did seem to remain confused – he hadn’t actually struck out at me – which I anticipated.
He just looked non- plussed at a situation he obviously wasn’t used to.
That did mean that I was not sure what action to take next -I couldn’t instigate any physical attack or even lay hands on him to move him to one side – then I am the aggressor.
Luckily his friend seemed to realise that the situation had become ridiculous – he stepped in – hands on the shoulder of his friend and said – in Afrikaans – what I guess would translate in Liverpool as – ‘ OK Jacques – just forget it now – he’s not worth it – just walk away.’ – and they did walk away – even walked around Jean, – off the path – who was still stood on the other side from me.
She still gave me crap for weeks – but I won !