EASTERN CAPE

Eastern Cape

Eastern Cape houses

 From Howick we shifted gears and headed west on a hard drive to Coffee Bay on the coast. At a gas station we loaded up on fuel and somas and headed out. We took the N3 motorway to the N2 and crossed into the province of Eastern Cape. Eastern Cape was known as the Transkei and up to 20 years ago was a black homeland and was considered by the apartheid South African government to be a separate country. It’s a poor area where most of the people are Xhosa who speak a click language (they make an occasional clicking sound when they speak). Until recently there has been minimal investment in infrastructure. People are spread widely across the land, living in blue rondavels and cement block buildings; resembling something like an Indian reservation. There are no townships (slums located at the edge of every South African town where the black people live) and few white people. To make up for their lousy roads there is massive road construction going on now. So the driving experience is either long waits at road construction or driving on old narrow winding hilly roads with no shoulders and lots of cows sheep goats and pedestrians sharing the road with the omnipresent SUV rallying at ninety miles an hour mixed in with local hillbilly mobiles going nineteen. There is a lot of truck traffic which leads to extremely unwise overtaking. Like in all of South Africa, most local people hitchhike or ride in the back of pickup trucks or are packed into combi vans driven by crazed cell phone obsessed freakiziods. So after 400 kilometers of that we pulled into the main town of Eastern Cape called Mthatha in the dark to take a break and do some shopping.  The streets of Mthatha on a Friday night where seething with people in the third world manner. Traffic rules broke down and cars were just stopping and going and parking and driving the wrong way. Pedestrians were just everywhere pushing carts or carrying loads or just shouting at their friends or trying to sell stuff in the streets. We pulled into a street construction area and parked and went to the Super Spar grocery store. The place was jamming with music and people were talking loud and greeting each other and clicking away. In fact it was a nice store and very modern and busy, but had short lines. We were definitely the only white people within miles of this place. Foolishly we drove on to Coffee Bay in the dark on bad road where we lost a hub cap somewhere in the dark and drove through some uncontrolled one lane construction areas. We arrived and booked into Sugarloaf Backpackers. We stayed in a nice rondeval near a river not far from the beach.

Scene near Coffee Bay

 Next day we walked east along the coast to Hole in the Rock. It was an open and green landscape with stellar sea views. The coast is populated lightly with people living in groups of huts and really no infrastructure. We met up with a South African guy called Ricky who was full of life and positive energy. He lived near this area 20 years ago when it was really poor and isolated. We arrived at the beautiful setting of Hole in the Rock and went for a swim. Ricky, being a bit mad, swam out to the Hole and jumped in while 12 foot surf exploded on to the rocks and filled the hole. No problem, he loved it. We walked back aways until we hitched a lift from a young French couple on the impossibly rough road back to Coffee Bay. Later on at the backpackers lodge Ricky lined us out on a theoretical itinerary through South Africa which as it turns out had some very good recommendations.

Hiking near Coffee Bay

Sheri and Ricky

Hole in the Rock

Ricky about to jump into the Hole

Jewelry seller

Sheri and company carrying 10 kilograms of rice (doing her part)

Scene near Hole in the Rock

Xhosa Houses

Xhosa Village

From Coffee Bay we were rallied to Port Alfred and camped out in the yard at Kowie Backpackers for about 8 bucks each. The place is essentially a three bedroom ranch house and was a bit grimy and temporarily overseen by a young black girl who didn’t seem to know much. The only other guests were two South African guys who were down on their luck and had women troubles and needed a cheap place to stay for a few months. The older fellow, Frank, had such a thick accent it was hard to understand him and he wore his work clothes all the time even though he retired as a truck driver years ago. Adrian was a younger guy who had no money and was divorced and fighting his ex over his kids. A bit weird, but we got talking to these guys and there were really friendly and liked the company. Adrian was quite introspective and intellectual and is a soft soul in a hard world. Frank constantly told stories of trucking and bad roads and accidentally running over a black guy. Next day, as we were leaving, the subject of music came up so Sheri broke out her ukulele and sang them some songs which they enjoyed. Adrian ran into the house and came back with his ‘baby”, a guitar, and sang a moving version of the song ‘Society’ from the movie sound track of ‘Into The Wild’.

Adrian, Sheri and Frank at Port Alfred

From Port Alfred we had a short drive up to Grahmstown where there was an Arts festival going on. The place has a university and an annual arts festival which is the largest in South Africa. Mostly people attend to see performing arts. We picked up a guide which overloaded us with options and picked out a few events. The first performance we went to was at the City Hall and was really outstanding. It was a troop of about 18 young people who performed African inspired dance with extreme energy (African Rhythms). Later we went to a hip hop trio of young brothers “Prototype” who were entertaining; an acoustic soul group; a musical play; and finally an African inspired ballet type performance (I Am African). The whole town was booked, but we were able to put up our tent in a spot just big enough for it at Whethu Backpackers. It was late when we were walking through the empty streets after the last performance and it felt a touch dodgy, but we flagged down a police pickup truck and they gave us a lift to the hostel.

 

 

Grahmstown Street Scene

Grahmstown City Hall