Hello, my name is Johan Mellström and I am
24 year old Swedish student being here, in Langa, to do a four month long
internship at Project Playground. This internship will be part of my Masters
Degree in Political Science and Development Studies at Uppsala University, from
where I already have a Bachelors Degree. During this whole stay I’m going to
run this blog where I will tell about my daily experiences in Langa and at
Project Playground. But first, I would like to tell about my way down to Cape
Town that was everything else than straight.
One of my biggest passions in life is to
travel and get introduced to new people and cultures, and therefore I decided
to turn my way to Cape Town into a real adventure. Instead of flying into Cape
Town like most people do, I flew into Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, approximately
7000 km away from Langa. This big and polluted town which mostly serves as a
hub for people going to either Zanzibar or to Arusha didn’t win my heart and I
quickly decided to travel south across the country until arriving at the
Malawian border where I entered the country they call “Africa’s heart”.
Malawi is a fascinating place filled with
beautiful nature, lovely people, traditional culture and bad minibuses. Every
single trip – no matter distance – can take more than a day to travel. Most
buses don’t run after dark, which in Malawi means six o clock, and what at
first glance on a map looks like hundred comfortable kilometres, can in fact put
you on the side of the road in the end of the evening. Flexibility is
essential. I stayed one week at Nkhata Bay, right by the Lake Malawi, which is
the most beautiful and picturesque lake, I ever seen in my life. I couldn’t
stop looking, and I didn’t want to leave. However, I had already decided that I
wanted to climb Malawi’s highest mountain, Mount Mulanje, and therefore I had
to say goodbye against my will. I threw a stone in the water and prayed to
return one sunny day in the future.
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| The stunning beauty of Lake Malawi |
Mount Mulanje, also nicked “the island in
sky”, measures 3002 meter above sea level and in order to climb it I was in
need of some warm clothes. I went to the flea market in Blantyre (where they
ironically mostly sold old Swedish sport shirts) and found a purple ski jacket
with gold details from the 90´s. Classy. I was ready and took a minibus to the
small village by the foot of the mountain where I had to find myself a guide
that could show me the way to the summit since climbing it alone is forbidden.
The expedition took two days and was tougher than I had expected, and
afterwards I needed one day in order to recover and gain strength for my next
mission - a 18-hour bus ride from to Vilkankulos, Mozambique.
Mozambique’s modern history is very
different from the one of Malawi – a country often referred as pacifistic.
Mozambique that is a former Portuguese colony didn’t receive independence until
1975, and shortly after this the country fell into a destructive civil war that
lasted until 1992. Even a backpacking tourist like me could feel that the
wounds from this weren’t yet healed, and that Mozambique still is a very
divided country. In some moments I felt like being trapped in a police state.
As a tourist you always have to carry around your passport, and the underpaid
policemen are more than happy to double-check that the required visa still is
valid - especially in the capital city of Maputo where bribes has to be counted
into the daily travel budget. This is extremely frustrating and something that
harms Mozambique’s tourism a great deal.
The country’s biggest tourist attractions
are its sandy beaches and turquoise water that are filled with humpback whales,
giant rays and whale sharks. I spend some beautiful days along the coastline
and enjoyed all the delicious seafood that the local fishermen sell for a
reasonable amount of meticais. Unfortunately is my Portuguese vocabulary limited
to “bom dia” (good day) and “obrigado” (thank you) and I noticed in an early
stage how much connection I lost towards the local community when I no longer
could communicate with the locals. On top, only a tiny percentage of the people
understand any English, and this made the language barrier so thick that body
language sometimes was the only way to order a meal on a restaurant. This is
both charming and exhausting. After two weeks I decided to continue my trip and
crossed the boarder into the Kingdom of Swaziland, the smallest country in the
region of Southern Africa.
Swaziland is the last absolute monarchy in
the world and King Mswati III is taking all the political decisions in the
country. Travelling around here is easy since the Swazi roads are of good
quality and distances always are short. I stayed no longer than two nights but
experienced some amazing wildlife and got the chance to see elephants, rhinos,
giraffes and ONE deeply sleeping lion. Way to go, king of the jungle! I also
visited Lobamba, the country’s traditional and legislative capital, where I
went to the national museum and learned about the Swazi traditions.
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| One of Swaziland's many elephants |
The day after it was raining and I went to
the minibus station at eight o clock in the morning and found a half full bus
going to Durban. At this stage I was aware of the fill-up system that dominates
public transportation and rules out any kind of time schedule, and in Malawi
and Mozambique I was sometimes unlucky enough to sit up to one hour waiting for
the driver to start the engine. This time was however different. Hour after
hour passed and people had breakfast (fried chicken with fries) and lunch
(fried chicken with fries). The rain stopped, and started again. Still the bus
didn’t move a single centimetre and no one, no one except me, seemed to care
about getting to Durban before the end of the month. At eleven o clock there
was just one seat free in the bus and I started to feel hope. One more. Common.
How could people be so utterly relaxed and regardless when we were so close? I
had no idea. Some guys went out to buy some more food for the trip (fried
chicken with fries) and came back again. Had time stopped for real? Never in my
life had I felt that bored. And then, at half past one - after five and half
hours in the bus - the driver decided to ash his cigarette, put his cap on and
crawl into the bus. I felt euphoria. I felt both excitement and relief. I felt
like celebrating with a high-five or some kind of funky dance move, but no one
else was in. I didn’t care, because I was on my way to South Africa.
I arrived late at the central station
without any money and the guy sitting next to me in the bus told me to
absolutely not walk around in downtown at that hour. I told him that I needed
an ATM but he said that even that was a bad idea. He searched in his pocket and
found fifty rand that he handed over saying; “if I ever get to your country, if
that ever happens, then I expect to be treated in the same way.” I nodded my
head and felt like giving him a big hug. He said it was fine and walked in the
other direction. I grabbed a taxi and jumped in. My eyes were glowing of
amazement – what a fantastic thing to do!
I stayed one night in Durban and didn’t
have time to see much of the city. I wanted to go to Coffee Bay, a small
fishing village in Eastern Cape, and the morning after I was back on the road
on a SA Roadlink bus to Mthatha. At this time I was reading “long walk to freedom” and I felt
privileged of having the scenery of Nelson Mandela’s childhood around me when
doing so. Green hills and colourful rondavelas; the beauty of Madiba´s homeland
wasn’t exaggerated. It was magical.
I had four magnificent days in Coffee Bay
and got introduced to the Xhosa culture for the first time in my life. I was invited
to visit the home of Samkelo, a man that sometimes worked at the hostel, and he
showed me around in his village and told me about his family’s rituals and
traditions. He told me that he once worked in the mining industry close to
Johannesburg but that he now decided to return and live the same life as his
father did before him. He was now without both water and electricity but close
to family and nature. I asked about his opinion regarding the mining strikes
but he said he didn’t care. Politics wasn’t for him he said, even less now than
before.
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| Samkelos wife was happy that he decided to come back to Coffee Bay |
I left Coffee Bay and continued down the
coast towards the famous Garden Route. Here, the nature was even more stunning
and dramatic with a landscape somewhere in between Twin Peaks and Lord of the
Rings, a terrible idea for a movie, but a beautiful mixture of nature. I stayed
some days in Storms River and one night in Knysna before I jumped on the night
bus to Cape Town. The Mother City was calling on me and I couldn’t resist her
anymore.
