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Open Bill Stork
Finding food in the wetlands6:30 p.m. Rain has been pouring for an hour and a half and seems set for most of the night. It started as light rain in the last five minutes of a walk Jack and I took up the road. The dramatic heavy clouds and golden light made a perfect backdrop for photos of the beautiful valley where we are situated. We came across a protected wetland, where lots of swallows flitted when not resting in the hundreds on an abandoned power line. We also saw a black and white stork, standing and then flapping great black wings into the distance. The areas we have travelled on this trip have been suffering drought, so the people who live here are happy with the rain. Great booming thunder has subsided into a steady downpour. Here, as everywhere we have been, there are very few bugs; if we leave the door open, nothing comes in!
Last night there was also rain, so our morning wetlands walk was off – too wet! Nevertheless, our morning visit to a Zulu village was splendid. A cloud was sitting on the plateau, giving about 200 yards visibility. Our guide, Bongi, a member of the family whose
Young Dancers
Slouching about like any teenagers homestead we visited a few days ago, sought permission for us to enter, as usual. Near us a clutch of teenage girls was also waiting. On his return, we discovered that they would be dancing for us; to start our visit, they sang a welcoming song at the gate. As we walked in slowly, we noticed a house with an unusual painted design. The man working outside was introduced as Bongi’s uncle. His house was decorated in a combination of
Basotho and
Zulu styles. In fact, the village was just across the border of
Kwazulu-Natal into the
Free State.
Nearby was a house still being constructed, Bongi’s grandmother’s house for visitors. The next house was his grandmother’s house, and we were invited in. We women were asked, nay directed to sit on mats on the left, and the two men of our group were invited to sit on benches to the right. Betsy asked if she could borrow a bench because she has trouble sitting on the ground – not allowed! Then Bongi’s grandmother came in – a very bent 86-year-old. She painfully lowered herself to sit with us on the mats. Betsy took back her concerns. Then the girls
Grandmother
At 86, she prefers the floor. came in, and without reference to anyone, they crowded in on the benches. How fast tradition changes!
Bongi talked at some length about how his family came to this place, basically fleeing
Shaka Zulu in the early 1800s, and their family is now a mix of Basotho and Zulu heritage. Bongi also talked about his uncle (a carver), and respectful behaviour, and marriage customs. In a Q&A time, our group asked some very direct questions. Then Barbara asked if the girls had any questions for us. They all giggled quietly and hid their faces. She expanded to ask what they hoped to do after their schooling. Although they responded slowly and quietly, they all answered: doctor, engineer, nurse, police officer, traffic cop, social worker.
Now came the time for dancing outside in the compound. The dances all involved high kicks, with a friendly competitive effort to kick the highest. The girls’ teacher came out, wearing a fabulous red beaded hat. With her came some even younger girls, who also danced. The two groups had the same girl drumming. Then, the mature women came out of a festival tent, dressed marvelously in similar beaded hats and decorated dresses. They could
Ndaba Village dancers
More enthusiastic than the girls dance well! Their kicks were firmer, if not higher, than the girls’, and their undulations were deeper and more rhythmic. They threw each other challenging glances with great good humour.
All the festivities seemed to be completed, and we turned to go, when one of the women spoke to Bongi. They wanted us to come into the tent to take photos of the decorations they had put there. My assumption was they had gone to this effort on the chance of rain. In any case, the atmosphere became even warmer, and the dancing recommenced. Finally, the girls had to leave, and we all left. Later Duane told us the girls were dancing in another village as part of the celebrations for a mountain bike race happening in the area, and indeed we saw racers as returned to Oaklands.
First, however, we drove a short way to the “Little Church Tea House” for lunch, right beside the
Little Church, a bona fide church with room for about twenty in the congregation. Surprisingly, the Tea House was run by the same people who run our hotel, so we recognized the servers. The adjacent shop was stuffed with souvenir pottery, jars of
Black Mountain Baboon
Calmly surveying Llandaff Valley gourmet foods, soap, etc. A short ride away spread the Llandaff Valley where eagles soared above a deep ravine. On a cliff opposite, a few Black Mountain Baboons strolled and sunned themselves, unconcerned with our sufficiently distant presence.
Back at the Manor, I decided on a walk, and Jack was waiting for a walker to appear so we set off together along the road and over the hill – whence more hills.
Dinner: Vietnamese chicken soup, roast duck breast, apple tart flamed with brandy.
">Watch video of Ndaba girls and women singing and dancing.
Isabel Gibson
non-member comment
Lots of little (yellow!) birds
A great video - I think I can get my leg as high as my knee. The girls seemed shy, as teenagers can be anywhere, at least with strangers. I was surprised to see that dinner included Vietnamese soup. Was that special for the tour, or is food in South Africa as cosmopolitan as in North America?