Journey Through the Past: South Africa

I know that this is the age of selfies, but I try and avoid posting many pictures of myself.  The most obvious reason is that I was never good looking even when I was good looking, but especially now with the ravages of time I've reached the point of being decidedly horrific looking.  Nevertheless, an occasional interesting shot pops up.  I've been looking at pictures a lot lately - not only as an attempt to organize the thousands of pictures I have floating around, but also to organize my life - and I came across this one.  It was snapped by my South African friend Zanetta, although I'd have to go back and look at my journal or this blog to figure out the year.  2010 or 2011? Or something like that.  It's one of the few pictures that exist of me without a beard.  I wasn't exactly a beardless youth, but I was at least beardless.  It's funny how much of my life has passed through Africa over the last decade or so, and it definitely makes you think about roads not taken.

I think we were at the Cradle of Humanity, and you can provide your own metaphor.  It was a lovely time.

World Cup

OK, this is definitely something that I never thought I'd say, but I'm completely hooked on the World Cup. I think I've seen at least part of every match so far - it helps to be a professor in the summer, obviously. With every passing World Cup I've been more and more interested in the World Cup, but this year is off the charts. The big turning point for me was when we were living in Atlanta during the 1996 Olympics and my son and I attended the semi-finals of the soccer and rooted Nigeria on to an improbable victory. It was the first time that I got a sense of the spacing and pace and accuracy of the game - and of the insanity of the fans. It also helped this time that I just returned from South Africa and witnessed first hand the enthusiasm that gripped the country - and heard a lot of vuvuzelas before the tournament ever started. I tried to stick around another week - and thus might have been able to attend some matches - but changing my itinerary was simply too expensive. My friend Zanetta has attended three matches and has been sending me constant reports, which has kept me even more engaged. Here are a few pictures: one of her in a sweet South Africa football jersey (which I'm still kicking myself for not buying when I had the chance), one of her outside the main stadium, and one taken inside the stadium. We were texting the other day during the US-Slovenia match - I was rooting for Slovenia and she was rooting for the US (I always root against the US in all international athletic competition, except when they normally have no chance to win) - so in the end she had the last laugh. Oh, and I'm so sick and tired of the annoying whining of Americans about the mysterious bad call at the end of the game. For one thing, how can you not root for Slovenia? The US has 150 times the population of Slovenia, and the economy of the poorest US state would dwarf that of the entire country of Slovenia (it's the ultimate David vs. Golaith story). Plus, I spent a day in Ljubljana, Slovenia one time and absolutely loved it. Finally, and this has come to me from decades of being a Viking fan - if you play down to the level of a lesser opponent (not to take anything away from Slovenia, because they played great and deserved to win - but the US should have taken care of business early on) you have nothing to complain about when the breaks go against you. Quite simply, you should never have put yourself in the position where a blown call should have hurt you. I've only have forty years of the Vikings doing that, so I know what I'm talking about. Anyway, go Bafana Bafana - the team name of the South African team, which I think translates out as something like "the boys." Oh, and how sweet was the tie between New Zealand and Italy today? Amazing.

The Last Waltz

I took advantage of some downtime to go back to the beach, this time walking the other direction. PE is definitely earning its reputation today as the Windy City. It's funny how I always forget how much I like the ocean and beach. I spent a long time watching some surfers. Now I'm sitting in a Wimpy Burger enjoying a vanilla milk shake. It's good to know that life does provide some certainty. I'd better rally - I need to finish packing, get to the airport, catch my two hour flight to Johannesburg, and then my seventeen hour flight to JFK - at which I have an ungodly layover - maybe I can catch an earlier flight.

Out of Africa

I can't believe this is my last day on this trip. My friend Chantel is coming around 1:00 p.m. to fetch me to take me to the airport for my late afternoon flight. This has been an odd trip - although, to be fair, I guess all my trips are a little odd. In this case what is jumping out at me is how happy and contented I feel right now. Truthfully, I didn't even want to go on this trip. In so many ways I was just about at my professional and personal nadir when I boarded the plane in Burlington almost two weeks ago. Now, however, I feel completely recharged, both professionally and personally. Maybe for the first time I'm starting to "get" Africa. I can say without a doubt that I've fallen in love with South Africa. I remember that it wasn't until my mystic night watching the sun go down in Mukawir in Jordan (while watching the lights of Jerusalem twinkle on and listening to the evening call to prayer from two different hillside mosques) that I understood the Middle East and grew to love it. I think it's also true that it wasn't until my second trip to India, when I disappeared into the chaos of ten of thousands of Indians (much to my friend Michelle's horror/chagrin) celebrating a Hindu festival, that I understood India and instantly fell in love with it. I can't wait to come back to Africa, and I know it will be soon.

Kudos to the Kudu

After having my super-genius librarian friend Kate explain to me what a Kudu is (as she said, she invested $50,000 in learning how to use Google), I thought I would post a picture of it. It's a very large antelope species that inhabits eastern and southern Africa. It looks potentially dangerous, so I'm sure I'll get some sort of humanitarian award to devouring him. He's now joined his interspecies comrades that jumped, of their own free will, into my belly - ostrich, crocodile, camel, donkey, wild boar, etc. Ironically, I'm not even much of a meat eater, with the exception of chicken - and even that was contaminated by my eating chicken feet in China. Thank you my animal brothers!

A Night Out

Tonight I think I had more fun than I've had since the world was young. Chantel Harris and her husband Mark took me out to eat at a local restaurant called Ginger. What a great meal. They both had beef with a chocolate-chili sauce, which is their favorite, and I had kudu (which is a local beasty - sort of like a springbok only much bigger) smothered in a mushroom sauce. We also had a first-rate South African wine (South Africa is known for its great wines) and some very tasty desserts. They are a wonderful couple who have two small kids, ages four years and eighteen months. We discussed politics, popular culture, television and children (they have their own version of my son Gary's mystic coin in nose trip to the emergency room). They told me that on my next trip through Port Elizabeth that they'd treat me to a traditional South African cookout - I can't wait.

On the Beach

Tales From the 19th Floor

As Chantel and I were preparing to walk over to the cafeteria for lunch she decided that we should go up to the 19th floor to take advantage of the spectacular view. Chantel had never been up there before but had heard it had a great view of the campus, surrounding game preserve, downtown and the ocean. We ran into a worker who, in response to the question of whether or not we could reach the roof, just motioned us on. We made it to the roof and the view in all directions was extraordinary and I took some nice shots. However, when we decided to leave we discovered that both of the doors off the roof were now locked, and no amount of pounding could raise anyone. What surprised me is that there was not an electrical storm brewing - sort of like in Woody Allen's Radio Days - which would have given us the opportunity to earn a Darwin Award for foolish ways to die. Eventually Chantel called for help and we were rescued, and it was only about twenty minutes or so - although as I continue to retell the story it will reach mythic proportions and include stories of Chantel cracking under the pressure and near cannibalism.

Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University

I had a wonderful day today when I visited Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University here in Port Elizabeth. I found out today why NMMU has it's name - Mandela was originally from the East Cape region. In fact, technically Port Elizabeth is now supposed to be known as Mandela Bay - or also supposed to be known as Mandela Bay - you still see both names on signs. Chantel Harris arrived right on time this morning to drive me out to the campus, which is absolutely gorgeous. It is actually located on a game preserve, and it's not unusual to see zebra or springbok walk by. In fact, at one point today I looked out of a professor's window and saw some zebra in the distance - it blew me away. Of course, they also occasionally get monkeys or even snakes (including puff adders - yikes!) on campus. Nelson Metropolitan University has now joined Corvinus University in Budapest, Zayed University in the UAE, and the Catholic University of Ruzemberok, Slovakia in the list of schools talking to me about spending my sabbatical semester with them teaching. Truthfully, I think it's now moved to the forefront for several reasons. It really is a very good school and there is a lot of enthusiasm for new ideas and quality teaching. I was holed up in my friend Anton Botha's office (he's out of the country and was nice enough to loan me his office). Of course, I repaid him by opening his window to take a picture, momentarily forgetting that Port Elizabeth is known as the windy city, and the gust was so strong that it messed up his office - including knocking his Robert DeNiro Taxi Driver poster off the wall. I had a great chat with some professors over tea - an utterly sophisticated way to pass the time. I then met with some students who had participated in Global Module this last semester and they had so many great suggestions on different possible topics and also things that we could do to improve the GMs. After that I walked over with Chantel to grab lunch at the cafeteria - I had this absolutely fantastic spinich, feta and olive pasta dish. Then it was a tour of the campus and more meetings with faculty members. It was a wonderfully productive day, both professionally and personally. I believe that NMMU will expand to become one of our foundational Global Module partners. I can't wait to get back here to Port Elizabeth and NMMU, and definitely am considering spending my sabbatical here if we can arrange it.

Morning on the Other Side of the World

PE

I've successfully made my way to Port Elizabeth, which appears to be a beautiful city on the coast in the East Cape. Unfortunately, I arrived too late to see much of anything because it was already dark. Chantel Harris, one of our Global Module partners from Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University, and her husband were kind enough to pick me up and drop me off at the very nice Radisson Blu on the waterfront. I went for a walk down to the beach a little earlier on the way out to grab a pizza. It's funhny how I always forget hot much I love the ocean until I see it again - and I'm really looking forward to seeing it tomorrow morning before I head out to NMMU for a day full of meetings.

Driving

Whoops, for some reason the picture of me driving didn't make it to the previous blog. I'm sure the other photo is Zanetta's response to my clumsy driving efforts.

Maropeng - Cradle of Humankind

Which is not to be confused with Manos, Hands of Fate. As part of Sunday's adventures Zanetta and I also visited the Maropeng, Cradle of Humankind museum. It was associated with the Sterkfontein Caves and was a surprisingly large museum, including an underground boat ride that "recreated" the early history of the earth. It was well worth the drive out from Joburg. I'm also including proof positive of me successfully driving on the left side of the road.

Sterkfontein Caves

A couple days ago I posted about my driving adventure on the way out to Sterkfondein Caves. I thought I'd take the opportunity to post some pictures of the caves. Some of the oldest remains of protohumans were found there, and the caves themselves are impressive. However, the day had to start with a little shopping. Zanetta came over to the Elegant Inn to pick me up. We had to swing by the local mall to do a little shopping first. I was trying to pack light - and also had not properly planned for how far advanced fall was in South Africa. It wasn't terribly cold or anything, but a bit unseasonably cold. So off we went to buy an inexpensive sweatshirt. By some miracle - and totally without any conscious/subconscious coaching from Zanetta - I ended up with a Zwazulu Natal Sharks sweatshirt - and the fact that this is her hometown and favorite rugby team was a complete coincidence. Anyway, appropriately dressed we made our way an hour or so outside of town. The countryside was ruggedly beautiful. The cave sort of reminded me of one that I visited last summer in Slovakia (the pictures of which, sadly, disappeared when my camera was stolen in Barcelona).

Braza

On my first night in Pretoria my great friend Zanetta took me a very unique restaurant, a place called Braza - a sports bar that featured dishes from Portugal/Brazil/Angola/Mozambique. Yes, another one of those sports bars that features dishes from Portugal/Brazil/Angola/Mozambique. Their featured dish was prawns, which were delicious - and pretty mojitos as well. It's easy nice to travel to a truly diverse city like Pretoria/Johannesburg to take advantage of some great food. It was a a wonderful surprise after the plane adventure from Lusaka.

Time Fades Away

I can't believe my time at Johannesburg has already come to an end. It's been a fantastic visit and I'm still looking into extending the stay a couple more days (trying to see if my travel agent, the ever resourceful Rochelle, can work her magic). I'm sitting in the Vidae Caffe in the Johannesburg Airport drinking a chocolate frio (think a richer frappocino) and waiting for my flight to Port Elizabeth to visit Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University. Killed time by reading an article in Uncut magazine on the top 50 albums that have not been released as CDs - Neil Young's Time Fades Away was number one. It proved that I was right in thinking that it had not been released - and right in thinking that it's great. Oops, boarding!

Driving on the Left (right/correct) Side of the Road

On Sunday I was fortunate enough to have my second chance to drive a car overseas - the first being a couple years ago in Muscat, Oman. What made this experience different was that in this case the car was a stick shift and we were driving on the left side of the road. First two disclaimers: it was a Sunday and we were, initially anyway, way outside of the Johannesburg/Pretoria area. As with most huge metropolitan areas, driving is not for the faint of heart - especially for someone adapting to a new side of the road and a new internal structure to the car - and I would not have wanted to tackle Joburg (Johannesburg) traffic during rush hour. My good friend Zanetta Jansen from the University of South Africa (UNISA) drove me about an hour outside of town to visit the Sterkfontein Caves and a museum dedicated to some of the most important findings associated with proto-humans (I'll post some pictures later). At a certain point Zanetta asked me if I wanted to drive, and it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Now, I was a complete novice to the concept so I had to acclimate myself to the inside of the car. As I said, it was a stick shift and that definitely gave me pause - the thought of shifting with my left hand certainly seemed like a recipe for disaster. Luckily, the structure was exactly the same for thw five speed - first year upper left and then going through the normal pattern and ending with reverse on the lower right - although it still felt different doing it with my offhand. It helped that the clutch, brake and accelerator were also in familar positions. There were, surprisingly, no slip-ups in shifting gears. I also didn't have have any issues with the speed limits being based in kilometers instead of miles - that is, I shifted when the engine began to labor, uh labour, a bit instead of a particular mph/kph level. Turning into the appropriate lane - again, left lanes instead of right - meant that I had to think about it as compared to just relying upon muscle memory. The biggest problem I had turned out to be a minor one - using my turn signal; it was on the opposite of the column than I was used to, although in the logical location - I kept flipping on the wipers. So, overall a success, but Zanetta was kind enough not to throw me into the chaos of Joburg on a Monday morning at 8:00 am. My biggest challenge were the taxis - not the legitimate ones, but the vans (they are called matatus in Kenya, but simply called taxis in SA - although they also refer to regular taxis as taxis) that just stop along the road to pick people up - they will start and stop at any time and place and are thus a bit of a nuisance (although a godsend to the poor folks who have no other means of public transportation). So, my summer tour of former British colonies (Zambia, South Africa and India) will get me securely used to folks driving on the left - no doubt just in time to get plowed down in the streets of Brussels as I look the wrong way for oncoming traffic.

Back to Africa

OK, so I've made it as far as Johannesburg. I'm sitting in the gleaming Johannesburg International Airport, enjoying a caffe latte and a muffin. I had a pretty good breakfast an hour or so before the end of the marathon 15 hour flight from JFK, but I don't know if we'll eat on the flight to Lusaka - and I don't know how things will go once I get to Zambia. The entire terminal is awash with World Cup signs and souvenirs. The flight over on South African Airways was very comfortable, aided immeasurably by scoring a bulkhead (I used World Cup fever, and how it compared to what it was like in Atlanta during the Olympics, as my intro into chatting up the counterperson when I talked my way into a bulkhead). It also helped to have an individual video screen and a movie library, even if you're not that hot to see the movies. In between napping and eating three times I managed to watch six movies: Sherlock Holmes, Wolverine, Fantastic 4: Rise of the Silver Surfer, 27 Dresses, Must Love Dogs, and Something's Gotta Give. It does eat up a lot of hours. Now I just hope they flip over the movie list before my flight back. I'm just about exhausted - I figure by the time I land in Lusaka I'll have been travelling for a little over 25 hours. I think years of profound sleep apnea has left me uniquely qualified for international travel. That said, I really hope the driver is waiting for me at the airport - and I'm glad I went ahead and spent the money to get the Zambian visa early and not waited to do it at the airport. I want to get checked in, find a place to work out, and maybe grab a swim.

Culture of Fear

Even though my latest passport adventure in Kenya ended up eliminating the Cape Town part of the my trip to South Africa I still had a great time. Everyone I met was wonderful - very friendly and out-going, and they reminded me, I suppose naturally enough, of Australians (although the South Africans would cringe at that comparison). I ended up spending my time in Pretoria, presenting at a conference on African curricular development and visiting the Universitity of Pretoria and the University of South Africa. I'll have more to say about this all later on, but what really struck me was how fear has taken hold in so much of the white community of Pretoria. When I first arrived in Pretoria I spent a few days at a bed & breakfast out in a very nice suburb of Pretoria, but you'd think it was an outright war zone for all the barb wire and electric fences that surrounded every single house. Home security has been an absolute boom industry in South Africa for some time now. The nice folks who ran the bed & breakfast were really intent on me never walking anyplace by myself - and, again, this was essentially a series of gated communities with not a poor person in sight. On a Sunday I didn't have anything to do and didn't want to sit around in my room so I asked the owners over breakfast if there was public transportation that I could take to downtown Pretoria for a walk and the woman who ran things had an absolutely stricken look on her face at the thought that I would do something so reckless. A nice young couple who were visiting from Cape Town volunteered to drop me off downtown at the zoo as they left for the day. The owner said that was OK, but that I had to call, from the zoo, as soon as I was finished and that they would come pick me up - and to not leave the zoo under any circumstances. Well, of course, I paid no attention to that directive. After a lovely couple hours in the zoo I went for a walk around downtown Pretoria and had a perfectly safe time. I ended up in the main square and just sat there, had some ice cream, and watched the world go by. I called her when I was finished and her husband drove out to get me. On another night I went for a walk to a local Chinese restaurant to grab dinner and suddenly a car pulled over - it was the owner who was out for a drive with her son. She insisted that I get in the car and she took me to the restaurant and volunteered to sit there while I picked up my food to go - and seemed a little startled that I intended to eat at the restaurant and then walk home. It reminded me of my first visit to Kenya when the woman who ran the conference center picked me up on the side of the road when I went for a walk, but I could at least process that event because I was walking towards a sort of ramshackle area - but this was a very posh area of Pretoria. I talked to several folks, including my driver (who I'll have more to say later) and the young couple from Cape Town, who felt that the folks in the suburbs of Pretoria were completely overreacting and that while there was a fair amount of crime in Johannesburg (or Joburg - pronounced jawburg - as everyone in South Africa called it) there wasn't enough in a nice area of Pretoria to justify that level of hysteria. It has inspired me to try and do some research on crime levels in South Africa. It reminded me of that book, Culture of Fear, that is discussed in Bowling for Columbine. In that spotless neighborhood in Pretoria there were even eight-foot high fences, topped with razor wire, around the local funeral home.