I lived in southern Africa from 1956 to 1980 and have traveled there often since. Now I'm going back and this blog will record both new plans and past experiences including diaries from many trips, helpful tips for first time travelers, and a few tales from the past. Those interested in Africa are invited to comment or add your own stories!
After renting our eight-seater Hyundai (a very comfortable vehicle!) in Hoedspruit, our first stop was at the Standard Bank to convert US dollars into Rand. Then we made the first of many visits to the PicknPay to buy travel essentials: biscuits (cookies) and snack food, water (although we could drink tap water), a Coke Light and naartjies (tangerines). It was interesting to mix with the African people and note the differences in customs and cultures. For instance, check-out clerks sit down as they scan groceries and there is a charge for the plastic bags to carry the purchases. We found many examples of recycling and conservation conscious policies during our trip.
We drove north from Hoedspruit on the highway to the Phalaborwa Gate and the entrance to Kruger National Park (KNP).
One of the first animals we saw in KNP - a baboon
The Kruger National Park is one of the largest game reserves in Africa. It covers 19,485 square kilometres (7,523 sq miles) and extends 360 kilometres (220 mi) from north to south and 65 kilometres (40 mi) from east to west, not including the Private Reserves which adjoin it on the west side. To the west and south of the Kruger National Park are the two South African provinces of Limpopo and Mpumalanga. In the north is Zimbabwe, and to the east is Mozambique. It is now part of the Great Limpopo Transfrontier Park, a peace park that links Kruger National Park with the Gonarezhou National Park in Zimbabwe, and with the Limpopo National Park in Mozambique. Gomo Gomo, where we had spent four wonderful days is in the Klaserie Private Reserve which is now part of the Greater Kruger Park Wildlife Management area. The objective in spending three nights in the Kruger Park was to be able to see what a unique conservation area it is and to experience its wildlife while self-driving.
A Ground Hornbill
One of the oldest in the world, Kruger National Park (KNP) was first designated a Government Wildlife Park in 1898 before being expanded and named the Sabi Game Reserve. It officially became the Kruger National Park in 1926. It receives over a million visitors a year now and is a favorite vacation destination for most South Africans, offering a wide range of affordable accommodation from basic camping, to RV’s, cottages and luxury lodges. It is important to plan any visit to Kruger Park outside of school holidays!
On our drive through KNP to Letaba Rest Camp we again saw wildlife; ground hornbills, giraffe, rhino, buffalo, elephants and a baboon sitting high on a rock. We didn’t stop too long for photographs as we had to reach camp before the gates closed at sunset.
We had a bungalow with two bedrooms and two baths for two nights. Each bedroom had three single beds. KNP thatched camps are set up for self-catering and each unit has a fully furnished kitchen, dining table and sitting area as well as a covered porch. There is also a filling station, restaurant, gift shop/grocery store, camping area, ablutions, and washer/dryers. Guests are cautioned that monkeys, baboons and honey badgers are problematic in the camp so food should be securely stored and doors to bungalows should be kept closed at all times. Resident bushbucks were wandering around the camp. We walked along the river path to the restaurant for some dinner and bats flew overhead. The air was filled with the smell of outdoor cooking from the many self-catering residents and campers. The seating was outdoors and the night air was quite chilly; our bungalow wasn’t much warmer. The service was slow—something we noticed everywhere on this trip—and the menu limited.
We rose at 6:00 a.m. Sunday, July 22, and went for a short game drive to the bridge over the Letaba River. It was cold and we were grateful to be in an enclosed vehicle. We returned to camp and had breakfast at the restaurant and although we ate indoors, we were still very cold. Most foreign visitors would not think of Africa being a cold place but if we visit again in July we would bring more suitable, warmer, clothing instead of trying to wear multiple layers to ward off the chill. We decided to buy some bread, peanut butter, jam, cheese and other provisions at the store and we needed to stock up on biscuits before returning to the bungalow.
Carol, Kevin, Jan and Joe once again left camp for a game drive. Michelle and Avery stayed behind to relax and have a swim. The day warmed up nicely once the sun came up. Kevin took the wheel and he too turned on the windshield wipers when he meant to signal a turn and we all laughed.
Hippo in the Olifants River
We drove the dusty back-roads to Olifants Camp and stopped often to photograph giraffe, elephant, and baboons. Olifants is one of the most picturesque camps in the Kruger National Park. Joe had visited here in 1958 and, although the camp had been enlarged and modernized somewhat, the spectacular panoramic views over the Olifants River had not changed at all. CJ became the crocodile and hippo spotter with the aid of binoculars. They blend in so well with the landscape they are difficult to see with the naked eye. We stopped for lunch on the veranda at Olifants and enjoyed the beautiful view of the river while we patiently waited for our Greek salads. On the return to Letaba we spotted a fish eagle and a jacana (lily trotter) as well as many other birds and antelope—yes, more impala.
Little Bee-eater
The bird-life in Kruger Park is quite remarkable and we extended the checks on our list almost hourly. Some of the bird photos are shown with this narrative.
Pearl Spotted Owl at Satara Camp
Joe and Jan had made plans to meet old friends at Letaba. They had visited their lovely home in Tzaneen (a two hour drive west of the Park) on a previous trip and they came to KNP to spend a night so they could see us. We enjoyed a short visit and Joe and Mike toured the elephant museum at Letaba in the afternoon. The four of us met later for very enjoyable dinner and the hake was delicious. The family stayed in and had sandwiches and Michelle made a trip to the laundromat.
Everyone packed up early Monday as we left Letaba for Satara Rest Camp. We stopped again at Olifants Camp for breakfast and enjoyed the game drive along the way. Again we saw ground hornbills, which are endangered, ho-hums, hippo and crocs, thanks to CJ. There were a large number of cars parked on and beside the road at one point which indicated something worth seeing. We followed the lenses and finger pointing and saw a fresh impala kill in a tree in the distance, which meant a leopard was in the area. We wove our way through the maze of cars and drove on. We checked into Satara and had to wait for our bungalow which gave us time to explore the gift shop and have a bite of lunch. A sign pointed out the “most photographed Scops Owl in Africa” sitting in a bush. The photographers kept up the tradition but then a Pearl Spotted Owl was spotted in a tree near the shop. A monitor lizard peeked over the roof of the lodge as he slept in the sunshine.
Once we were in our bungalow, similar to the one at Letaba, we went different directions. CJ, Kevin and Joe went on a game drive, Jan read while she did the laundry and Michelle and Avery visited the swimming pool. A large herd of waterbuck was seen, a new antelope to check off the list, as well as zebra, impala, elephant, and giraffe. Kevin was keeping track of game and birds spotted.
We ate in our room for dinner and breakfast the next day. We had purchased staples and were already a bit tired of “eating out” and spending an hour or more waiting for a meal. Fruit, PBJ, pasta with butter for Avery, cereal (Wheatbix) and toast filled our tummies.
After breakfast Tuesday we loaded the car and did our final game drive on our way out of KNP through Orpen Gate. Someone mentioned we hadn’t seen buffalo as we neared the exit and, wouldn't you know, there was a herd just off of the road just a few yards from the gate. More photos. We stopped again at the gate shop for a leg stretch and a cup of coffee as we had a long drive ahead.
I first visited South Africa's Kruger National Park (KNP) in 1958 at the age of 14. In the last 12 years Jan and I have visited several times. Each trip has provided wildlife viewing above our expectations. We plan to return in July this year and so I thought I would introduce readers to this remarkable wildlife sanctuary now, because I will be posting frequent stories and photos while we are there.
Map of the KNP
Located in the northeast corner of South Africa, the KNP is one of the ten largest game reserves in the world. The tropic of Capricorn crosses the park. (see photo here) It was originally proclaimed as the Sabi Reserve in 1898 by the President of the Transvaal Republic, Paul Kruger. Its original size was about 1,780 sq. miles. An enlarged area was formally designated the Kruger National Park in 1926. Now it covers an area of 7,600 square miles. It is being merged with the Limpopo National Park in Mozambique and the Gona re Zhou Park in Zimbabwe to form the Greater Limpopo Transfrontier Park. This remarkable initiative will result in a 13,500 sq. mile conservation area that will be one of the largest in the world.
Ultimately the goal is to create a fence-free park, allowing historic wildlife migration routes to be expanded, provide significant employment and income opportunities for rural people and greatly expand Eco-tourism potential in the region.
The driving distance in the park, from Pafuri Gate in the north to Crocodile Bridge in the south is 250 miles.
Animals in KNP have the right-of-way.
The uniqueness of KNP is that one can self-drive and see an amazing variety of mammals, birds and reptiles. Although you can't drive off of the vast system of paved and graveled roads in the park the game-viewing is excellent.
Reasonably priced accommodations are offered, in the many fenced camps from camp-sites, RV parks, chalets, lodges etc. There are several high end luxury lodges as well.
Even the smallest species have right of way.
The South African National Parks excellent web pages http://www.sanparks.org/parks/kruger/ provide comprehensive information on trip routes, accommodations, gas (petrol), restaurants, game viewing, weather and so on.
Marshall Eagle
The Park is unrivaled in the diversity of its life forms and a world leader in advanced
environmental management techniques and policies. Truly the
flagship of the South African national parks, Kruger is home to an impressive
number of species: 336 trees, 49 fish, 34 amphibians, 114 reptiles, 507 birds
and 147 mammals.
Cape Buffalo near Punda Maria Camp in the north.
The KNP is easily accessible, of course, to most South Africans by a modern highway system and it is a favorite vacation destination during school holidays. When planning visits to South Africa it is always a good idea to Google 'SA School Calendar' and pick those periods when schools are not closed.
I will write about some of the KNP rest camps we have visited and describe the private games reserve areas to the west of the park in upcoming blog posts.
If you have had experiences in the Kruger Park I welcome your comments and opinions.
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I interrupt the usual narrative about our 2012 safari plans to talk about a brief visit to Egypt 50 years ago.
The Great Sphinx and Khafra's Pyramid at Giza - 1961
Current events in Egypt seem to have attracted some attention around the world. I am not an expert in foreign affairs nor have I had any experience in having a domestic affair. But I have lived and worked in several countries and have traveled to, or through many more, including Egypt. Probably because of this I have an abiding interest in world affairs and events. The political shifts taking place in the Middle East now are remarkable. Egypt is the largest and most populous country in the Middle East and what happens there will have significant consequences around the world.
We discuss American history across the span of a few centuries. Egyptian history spans many millennia. Its recorded history goes back, some estimates say, to about 3150 BC – That’s over 5,000 years!
When I was seventeen years old I had the good fortune to be able to pass through Egypt while traveling with my family. We were living in South Africa at the time and my father was due to return to the United States on business. He planned a sea voyage up the east coast of Africa, starting at Port Elizabeth, on the 17,382 ton HMS Durban Castle. The ship was one of Her Majesty’s mail ships in the Union Castle Line which had won its initial contract in 1857 to carry mail from England to South Africa and on to Calcutta. When the Suez Canal opened in 1869 the Union Castle line predecessor (The Union Line) stopped using the Cape sea route for traffic to India but continued to grow in importance as a mail and freight service to and from South Africa and coastal ports around the entire African continent. In 1956 Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal, precipitating the Suez Crisis, temporarily ending shipping through that vital and much more economical route. By the time our voyage was to begin, in December 1961, the Union Castle Line had reopened the East Coast route. I recently learned that the famous “round Africa” service closed one year later and so my family was fortunate to have made this amazing voyage when we did.
My mother (right) with our tour guide in Tahrir Square.
Eventually the Union Castle Line made its final mail ship voyage in 1977, ending a 120 year history of operation. Its demise was brought about by the introduction of faster and more economical jet airliners in the 1960s and 1970s. For a fascinating look at this historic steamship service go to: http://www.oceanlinermuseum.co.uk/History%20of%20UnionCastle%20Line.htm
My account of our east African adventure will be the subject of a future story in this blog series in which I will try recollect and write about our stops in Durban, Lorenco Marques (now named Maputo) and Beira, Dar es Salaam, the island of Zanzibar, Tanga, Mombasa, Aden (in Yemen), and on through the Red Sea to Port Suez at the southern end of the canal.
We arrived in Port Suez two days after Christmas. My father had planned to stay on the ship with my young brother David who was only six years old. Early in the morning my mother, my twin brother John and I were taken ashore by lighter and boarded a tour bus for a road trip to Cairo. For most of the drive, which took only an hour or so, all we could see was sand on either side of the road. To the east, looking in the direction of the canal, we would see the funnels of ships passing through the seaway. Only the moving funnels were visible as sand dunes blocked sight of anything else. It looked, for all the world, like ships sailing across the desert.
Approaching the sprawling city Cairo we passed through miles of poor suburbs, constructed of red mud covered bricks and seemingly all part of one massive contiguous structure, intersected with a myriad of narrow alleyways. I knew that if I were dropped off anywhere in those streets I would never be able to find my way out again. From recent photos I have seen of that city, much of the impoverished areas of Cairo look the same today. Bicycles - thousands and thousands of bicycles, moved along the streets making driving a car or bus seem impossible.
In the center of the city we drove along the Nile River and crossed several bridges. Modern hotels and apartments lined the river in places. We stopped at the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities and walked through the galleries for an hour or so. The first museum was built in 1835 but was moved several times until 1902 when it built where it now stands on Tahrir Square. Our guide, a young lady whose English-speaking skills were excellent took us into some of the more famous galleries. Only after I had taken several photographs of Tutankhamun’s famous gold and bejeweled burial mask did I realize we were not permitted to take photos. I left the museum feeling a little guilty but no one seemed to be following us as we left to move on to the pyramids. King Tut’s mask is made of 24.5 lbs of solid gold and is thought to be a good likeness to the young king in real life.
The 3,000 year old gold mask of Tutankhamun
On the outskirts of Cairo we arrived at the Great Sphinx and the Pyramids of Giza and I have attached a photo or two of the scene. The sphinx and the pyramids here were built about 4,500 years before and are, I believe, the largest pyramids in Egypt. We were able to walk a short distance into the largest pyramid or Khafra’s Pyramid and we climbed a short way up one side. The square blocks used at the base of the structure are huge, standing way above my head. I learned that the 66 ft high (20M) Sphinx was largely covered by sand when archaeologists began to excavate it in the 1880s. An extensive network of tombs and ceremonial avenues was revealed around it when the excavation was completed. Of course the ubiquitous camels were everywhere. I didn’t ride one and still, after 50 years I have no regrets about my decision.
After a short rest stop and snack at a nearby hotel we boarded our bus and began the drive north to Port Said. The drive took us through vast Nile River irrigation areas and revealed mile after mile of productive agricultural land, unlike the arid desert we had passed through near the Suez Canal earlier in the day.
Port Said is the northern most town of the Suez Canal and it lies on the Mediterranean Sea. Our ship had passed through the canal and we would meet it there. Our final stop in Egypt was a small restaurant near the harbor. We had dinner, which no doubt included some Egyptian delicacies, but I don’t remember too much about the food. I do remember a bevy of belly dancers on the dance floor to entertain us. Well after dark we were transported to our ship by small boat and shortly after boarding we set sail into the Mediterranean Sea. Our next destination was the Italian port city of Genoa. Passing the Island of Sicily the hot lava spewing from Mount Etna was visible the following night. We reached the busy harbor of Genoa the next afternoon. It was New Years Eve.
I am more certain of this date than any other date on our journey. Our hotel was close to the harbor and at midnight on December 31, 1961 every fog horn on every ship erupted to welcome the New Year.
The challenge of planning a trip to Africa is in deciding what to leave out - not what to include.
We are18 months away from fulfilling our desires to return to Africa and our initial hope was that we could include four nights in one of those very special camps in the Okavango Delta of Botswana. The good folks at Travel Beyond (http://travelbeyond.com) gave us an estimate which turned out to be $6,400 per person for four nights and that includes flights in and out (of Maun or Kasane), all meals, game drives etc. That is way out of our budget. We have done 15- 17 day tours of other areas of southern Africa for that amount of money. The worst thing is that, because we would have a child or children with us, under the age of 12, we would have to pay an extra $500 per day to reserve our own 4WD vehicle for game drives.
So - on to Plan B. This morning we talked, via Skype) with Chris Worden of African Bush Camps. (http://www.bushcamps.com/) Chris lives and works from the town of Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. ABC's core business is safari marketing, consulting and sales. Quite simply they focus on planning and arranging tailor-made safaris in Africa for independent travellers and small groups.
Quite frankly, when I saw that ABC has permanent staff in Victoria Falls, Kariba and other locations in nearby Zambia, as well as offices in the UK, I was anxious to talk with them. My Sunday email was answered promptly by Monday morning. When I described our objectives to Chris, he immediately gave us some great ideas on how to plan a tour of the Victoria Falls area, staying at kid-friendly bush camps. I have been to Victoria Falls many, many, times, so to talk to someone who could update me on current conditions and facilities was a relief.
Taking refreshments at Makalolo Plains Camp
We asked about Elephant Camp and Imbabala Safari Camp on the Zambezi River. Chris confirmed that these camps had upgraded since we last visited and were still reasonably priced, high quality, camps. He then suggested we consider Makalolo Plains or Little Makalolo Camps in the Hwange Game Reserve. So we threw together a tentative passenger list and slightly more positive dates and emailed him. By tomorrow we will have a budget cost for the first nine days of our Zimbabwe Tour.
On the subject of travel - generally
A few final recollections from my pre-Africa youth concerns the whole subject of travel. Few southerners in the first half of the 20th century and before (1865 to 1950s) ventured far from home. Heaven forbid it would be necessary to go north of the Mason-Dixon Line. The movement of new industry into the southern states slowly began to change the “bunker” mentality that had lingered since the defeat and surrender of General Robert E. Lee at Appomattox.
When my dad was 22 years old and had been a tire builder for four years he was sent to Sweden as part of a team of trainers to help start up a new Goodyear tire plant near Stockholm. So in 1938 he crossed the Atlantic and worked for a year in an instructor’s role. He made friends with yankees and foreigners and saw quite a bit of Europe, getting around by train. Before going back to the USA, he was in Berlin in 1939 when Americans in Europe were advised to leave in expectation of the conflict that was just months away.
My dad (left) with friends in Copenhagen, 1939
He boarded the first available train and headed home, getting a berth on a steamer out of France. So he had a taste of the outside world, unlike most of his contemporaries. In the years after I was born in 1944 my dad would have two weeks of vacation every year. My parents could only afford to go on vacation every other year, and we would load the car to drive to south Alabama or on to St. Petersburg, Florida. It was a two-day journey each way. Of course the Interstate Highway system had not been thought of at the time, though it was possible that President Eisenhower had plans for such a system all along.
I vividly remember the narrow paved roads from Gadsden into south Alabama along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. Early on when I was about two or three, we stayed in a very “modest” (could also be described as run-down) cabin along a waterway in Gulf Shores. Of course there was an outhouse in the back. Meals were cooked on a two-burner, Coleman, portable gas stove. My dad had rented a small boat and outboard motor and would take his boys out fishing. At a very early age I became familiar with baiting hooks and taking fish off the line. Looking over the sand dunes we could see the tops of ships passing by along the Inland Waterway.
The roads through the rolling wooded hills were dotted with old farmhouses, and large barns with advertising on the roofs. Pecan orchards were common along the way and, of course the ubiquitous Burma Shave signs offered some humor. We drove with the windows wide open because there was no air-conditioning. Tourist stops along the way would advertise two-headed snakes and five-legged alligators. Dad would let us tell him where to turn at road junctions, so we would learn to read the highway maps and watch for highway signs. If there was any uncertainty he would wait until we studied the map and then follow our recommendation on which way to go. My interest in and love of maps would continue throughout my life.
For a couple of those vacations we stayed at the same motel on the shore of the Gulf in St. Petersburg. On our final trip, in 1954, we stayed in a two story home for several days. It was a modern home with wood-paneling throughout and we could see the ocean from our upstairs bedroom. The main feature was the hidden storage spaces behind the wall panels upstairs. Our young imaginations ran wild as we found new hiding places and explored their secrets. Silver Springs, Florida, was a memorable stop over one year. We visited an alligator farm and saw Manatees in the clear springs for the first time. It was the first time I was exposed to the animal kingdom in earnest, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Nine months after this vacation, in March 1955, we welcomed the arrival of my young brother David who was to accompany us on our journey to the Dark Continent at the tender age of one year.
As a 12 year old I don’t remember having any concerns or insecurities about the move to South Africa at all. My twin brother John and I were always close in those days and there was never a loss of something to do or someone to do things with. Our days were filled with boyhood activities that were almost certainly typical of southern boys at the time. We were boy scouts and enjoyed meetings and working for our merit badges. Every week we would clean our bedroom and make our own beds and would earn a nickel (5 cents) each if we passed our dad’s inspection.
For most of our young years we had lived in small rented houses in East Gadsden, Alabama. These were the small whitewashed houses with front porches that one sees in old period films of the sharecropper south, only we weren’t sharecroppers or indentured laborers. We were poor but didn’t realize it at the time as we never wanted for any essentials. Our father had begun work right out of high school as a tire builder at the Goodyear tire plant in 1934. Every two or three years we would move into a slightly better house in a slightly better location, eventually one which included a garage. My parents were good parents. They worked hard for everything and never spent a penny that could be set aside for something useful. It was an important step forward when my father could afford to rent a brick house on a slightly larger lot, with a storage shed in the back corner of the yard. Finally, when my twin and I were 7 or 8 years old, my family had more or less “arrived” and John and I had only about a 200 yard walk to elementary school.
Among the things I remember were the new motorized washing machine my mother used. When the clothes have been washed in the old vertical, white, enameled washing machine, she would attach mechanical rollers to the top of the machine and feed them through the rollers to squeeze the soapy water out before putting them back in for a rinse cycle then going through the roller-squeeze operation again. The thoroughly squeezed clothes were piled into a large galvanized tub and carried outside to the clothes line. We would stand by and hand Mother the wooden clothes pegs as she hung the laundry in neat rows along the line.
Our first television came along when I was about seven. It was a small appliance with a fuzzy black and white picture. It seemed like my dad was always adjusting the “rabbit ears” antenna to maximize the picture quality. We were only allowed to watch one program at night, after our homework was done. The Thursday night 30 minute episode of Superman was a great incentive to get the homework done. I always wondered how he always leaped out of the same window in every episode. Special effects weren’t very good sixty years ago. On Saturday morning we could watch an hour of TV. Flash Gordon, with Buster Crabbe in the leading role, was a must see and The Lone Ranger was another essential. “As the World Turns” and “The Guiding Light” were to become my mother’s two favorite daytime “soaps.”
A significant improvement in our quality of life came early one summer when my dad came home with a large electric fan from Sears, Roebuck and Company. He set it into the lower half of one of our living room windows and turned it on to expel the warm air from the house, making sure to open all of the bedroom and kitchen windows just a few inches to get an effective through-draft. The air, now moving through the house, gave some noticeable relief from the hot, humid, summer air and also made it more difficult for the mosquitoes to prey on us as effectively as before. The wooden screen doors in the front and back of the house were important summer insect barriers. I can still hear them slam shut behind when we ran in and out, and mother calling out, “Boys …don’t slam the door!” Speaking of mosquitoes, I often wondered later in life, why mosquito nets were so common throughout Africa but were never used in the American south.
At about 9 or 10 years of age our father had been promoted at Goodyear and was superintendent of the Goodyear Tube plant, at that time the largest automobile tube producer in the world. We moved out of the old part of town into a very nice home several miles south, along Rainbow Drive, past the putt-putt course, the drive-in movie and the golf course and into a wooded residential area. We had a double garage, two bathrooms and a large lot, covered in trees. John and I particularly enjoyed the bathroom and shower with a glass door that was just outside our bedroom door. We shared a room and slept on bunk beds in our new home. Our house even had a basement – a rarity in that part of the south. It was in the basement that our electric train set would receive the attention it deserved. It was an American Flyer set up on a 4 x 8 plywood table supported by two wooden trestles.
This was the first home that my parents had actually owned. I remember my mother’s excitement when they were able to afford a car for her and the used Nash Metropolitan (a convertible no less) proudly took up space in our new garage. Living some distance from town now and even further from our elementary school in East Gadsden required a second family car for getting to school and shopping.
Fairly often we would have to get ready for school early and our dad would drop us off at our grandparents’ house on South 3rd Street that was on the way into town. It was a small, two bedroom, wood house just a few blocks south of Mainstreet. It stood on concrete blocks and you could kneel down and see all the way under the house from front to back. When I was 18 years old I came back for a visit and found that a new Piggly Wiggly grocery store had been built right across the street from their house and the row of old houses that were there when I was a little boy had been torn down. But I digress.
My paternal grandparents, Philo and Emma McDaniel in 1956
On those mornings we would be fed scrambled eggs and toast with “Mom’s” special homemade fig preserves, before “Pop” would back his car out of the garage to drive us the two miles, east on Broad Street and across the Coosa River Bridge, to school. Pop was a really bad driver. He had only learned to drive late in life and he drove painfully slowly. John and I would stand on the floor in the back and prop ourselves over the front seat, looking back to watch the cars accumulating behind us. It was always a relief to get to school when he would turn right, off of the main thoroughfare, and the long line of traffic could speed up and pass us.
Of course, in those days we weren’t accustomed to going to school with “negros” (the accepted term of the era). The Civil Rights Act of 1964, outlawing segregation, was still a long way in the future. We were moving away in troubled times, although I had little awareness growing up of the racial tensions around me. When I was nine years old, living on River Street in East Gadsden I vividly recall a lesson taught me by my father. We had gone to a tree lot to buy a Christmas tree and one of the salesmen, an older black man, asked me a question. I politely replied, as I had been taught, “Yes sir.” As soon as we got in the car to go home my mother turned to me and said, “Don’t you ever say “sir” to a black man.” I suspect she actually said “nigger” (oops – should I use “the N-word here?) but I don’t really remember that detail for sure. My dad turned to her and in an angry voice said, “You always say “yes sir” or “no sir” to an older person whom you respect. It doesn’t matter if he is black or white.” It’s those little things that mean so much when you are growing up.
One advantage of being raised in the south was that we were taught to be polite and always say “yes sir” or “no sir” and “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am” both to our parents and to all adults. This would serve us in good stead when we would eventually be introduced to the South African school system.
On our way to Africa in 1956. L-R: John, Mother Marguerite, me and 1 year old David
The SS African Enterprise sailed from New York in July 1956
Today I talked with Pam Buttner at Travel Beyond, the travel group we will be asking to help us plan our 2012 trip and make our reservations for us. It was a small beginning. I have investigated the South African Schools vacation calendar and decided that any time after July 13, 2012 would work well for our trip. Students would be back in school and vacation destinations would be in less demand for "the locals."
My first greatest adventure – (a blog posted to www.YourHub.com on11 November, 2007)
The defining adventure of my life was almost certainly boarding a ship in New York harbor at the age of 12 years and crossing the Atlantic Ocean to live in South Africa. Without this event much of the following five decades of my life might have been fairly boring.
That 17 day crossing from New York to Cape Town in July 1956, aboard the Farrell Lines - Steamship (SS) African Enterprise, was a pretty big deal for a skinny kid from Gadsden, Alabama. We sometimes read advice columns or hear radio talk show hosts answer questions from concerned mothers. The distraught parent laments that her husband is being transferred out of state and asks what she can do to ease the devastating effect this will have on her young children. I am amused at these situations. Parents need to know that most kids are, if nothing else, adaptable. Any distress they experience is most often created by their panicked mothers who are worrying needlessly.
When we were 11 years old my twin brother, John, and I were asked by our parents, "How would you like to go live in South Africa for a few years?" It was a rhetorical question of course. The plans had already been made by the grown-ups.
We couldn't wait to tell our 6th Grade Class at C.A. Donehoo Elementary School. I was so excited that I got confused about our destination, telling my teacher we were going to South America. Soon afterwards, realizing my mistake, I went to her and whispered sheepishly that it was South Africa, not South America that we were moving to. The world can be a confusing place for a 6th Grader.
My father risked being ostracized by his extended southern family to which an excursion above the Mason-Dixon Line was something almost inconceivable. "Those damn Yankees" was a phrase I recall hearing often from my early childhood days. But my dad was aware of the opportunity he was being given, a directorship in Goodyear Tire Company at their plant at the southern tip of Africa. He had been given his choice of three assignments; England, Sweden, or South Africa.
He declined England because of the weather, and decided against Sweden because of the weather and the language, and he had spent time there as a trainer before the outbreak of World War II. South Africa would give his twin sons a chance at schooling in English and he would have a chance to do some hunting.
The contract was to be for a 3 year term and we would only be able to come home for vacation after that time. This 3 year term was to be greatly extended.
After the decision was made and became known to family and friends, one of his uncles called and chastised my dad, saying "How could you think of taking your sweet little wife and three little kids to Africa, with all those natives?" His concerns included our one year old baby brother David.
So after graduating from 6th Grade, I recall busy weeks loading furniture and my mother shopping for clothes and things she was sure we would be deprived of for the next three years. The house was being sold. Mostly the grown ups handled that stuff while my twin brother and I played, went to Boy Scouts and enjoyed the usual bare footed summer time boy stuff. On an appointed day in mid-June, 1956, we loaded up the Nash Rambler and headed north through Tennessee, skirting the Great Smokey Mountains, and on to Akron, Ohio.
I can't recall how we all fitted in the car. It helped that we didn't have to have a car-seat for baby David. But among the pile of bodies was my 4ft 10inch, 63 year old maternal grandmother, Clara McGraw.
Talk about an adventurous spirit? Clara McGraw had never owned a car or flown in a plane, preferring to go by train. She was traveling with us to New York and planned to fly back to her home in Birmingham when we boarded the ship for Africa. We spent a week in Akron, where Goodyear Headquarters was located, while Clara visited her son, my uncle Joe and his family, in nearby Youngstown, Ohio.
Finally the Clampetts were on their way across Pennsylvania to the big city of New York. To a little boy, New York skyscrapers were pretty impressive. We spent about five days at the Taft Hotel. I recall the dark, thickly carpeted hallways and creaky elevators.
The view from our hotel room window was incredible, but I was thoroughly impressed by the door to our room. It opened from inside and out! We could put laundry or shoes to be shined in the door from the inside and during the night housekeeping staff would open it from the outside and return it before we woke up the next morning. I wanted so badly to have a pair of shoes that needed polishing just so I could use that remarkable feature.
We went with my dad to the harbor where he left our car to be loaded aboard the African Enterprise. The ship looked very impressive from dockside and my brother and I watched the huge cranes swinging cargo aboard. We made several excursions on the underground rail, one day even going to Dodgers Stadium to see the Brooklyn Dodgers play the New York Yankees. I guess this was a right of passage for little boys but I don't remember who won or the names of any of the players.
I was getting more and more anxious to get aboard and set sail, but mostly to play in the ship's swimming pool. I figured I would be able to swim all day, every day for the next two weeks.
Detailed memories of those days are elusive. I do recall my mother's shock at store and restaurant prices in New York. Why, a bottle of Coca-cola in the Drug Store was over a dollar, and we couldn't afford a milkshake! The price of a hamburger was outrageous.
Mother couldn't understand how people in New York could afford to eat. Of course Yankees were rude and hard to understand. This was culture shock for my mother but for me it was the first exposure to different people and places. If my mother had concerns about New Yorkers, how would she adjust to the varied peoples, cultures and languages of South Africa? She never really did, but that's another story.
Grandmother McGraw was due to fly home from Idlewild Airport (later to become John F. Kennedy Memorial) to Birmingham, Alabama. When my dad suggested she go by taxi from the hotel she said no, she would prefer to use the helicopter service!
For someone who had never flown, she decided to opt for a whole new experience. For the remaining 24 years of her life she talked about that helicopter ride. Some years later, at the age of 72 she visited South Africa and while touring an Ostrich farm she rode an ostrich, when few others in the crowd would volunteer.
The African Enterprise was one of "Two Distinguished Sister Ships" operated by Farrell Lines, offering regular first-class passenger service between New York and South Africa "over the incomparable Fair Weather Route." The Enterprise certainly was no Titanic in size but it was, by 1956 standards, a reasonably large vessel.
Primarily built to haul cargo, it offered seven luxury suites on "A" Deck and 22 suites on "B" Deck: comfortable cabins for about 50 passengers. It was 492 feet long and 65 feet wide. I can't help but compare it with a Holland America Cruise ship we took last year that accommodated 1,848 passengers, 800 crew members, had eleven passenger decks, and was 951 feet long.
We boarded ship with lots of luggage, much of which was disposable diapers (the brand name Playtex rings a bell) for my 15 month old baby brother. My parents optimistically assumed our crates of furniture and our car were safely stowed in one of the ships holes.
These would be unloaded when we arrived in Port Elizabeth, South Africa 19 days later. Containers were not commonly used then and it was interesting to watch the stevedores load odd-sized crates and canvas draped pallets through small holes into the huge below-deck freight areas.
We waved goodbye to the distant Statue of Liberty as tugboats nudged us away into the river and on toward the open Atlantic. It was a hot, humid, late June day and I was disappointed that the swimming pool had not yet been filled. My brother and I explored the ship and played our first game of shuffleboard. I suppose it would be true to say that our adventure had finally begun - in earnest.
A brochure extolled the ocean vacation experience we were about to have. "In less than two days from New York" it proclaimed, "you will learn first-hand how the "Fair Weather Route" came by its name. Day after day you are greeted with tropical blue skies, a calm sea, warm sunshine.
Day after day for relaxing in a deck chair . . taking an occasional turn at shuffleboard or deck tennis . . enjoying a dip in the outdoor pool," etc., etc. The entertainment highlight of the trip was to be, "your initiation into the "Trusty Order of Shellbacks" as you cross the Equator. It's an experience as unique and unforgettable as your entire vacation will prove to be." On our eight day at sea we would cross the Equator and go through an initiation ceremony.
The sailing wasn't rough, but it wasn't calm either. The swimming pool was pumped full of sea water but we found the slightest ocean swell started the water in the pool sloshing back and forth, breaking against the steep tiled sides and making it difficult for anyone to swim, much more so for a 12 year old with limited swimming skills.
Ships in those days didn't have automatic stabilizers. So much for spending my hoped for days playing in the pool. On one or two days in that first week we experience fairly strong winds and I enjoyed standing against the rail on the foredeck watching the bow of the ship dip into the ocean swells and create great sheets of salt spray across the deck. At times we would see dozens of flying fish shoot out of the water and disappear again. Timed passed too fast.
We crossed the equator on about the 7th July, 1956. A large canopy was stretched across one of the top decks and a throne set up to accommodate King Neptune. In deference to our youth my twin and I were initiated together. Side-by-side we were led, blindfolded, to the foot of the throne and told to get down on our knees. I was terrified.
At one point we had to put a finger into "Nelson's eye" and I felt something squishy and juicy. It turned out to be an overripe tomato. Some sort of gooey food, including soft spaghetti noodles was poured over our heads. After it was over I was relieved that we hadn't been water boarded or anything like that. My vivid boyhood imagination often ran away with me. Mostly it was a funny experience because my dad was dressed as a ridiculous looking pirate and was on the King Neptune team initiating the passengers who were crossing the equator for the first time. We never figured out why he escaped the ritual himself.
Five or six days later we approached the remote island of St. Helena. This volcanic island is one of the most isolated places in the world: the nearest landmass being the west coast of Africa 1,200 miles away. In the 51 years since visiting this tiny British territory I don't recall ever having met anyone else who has been there and I suspect 99.9% of Americans have never heard of it. It is best known as the place to which the self-proclaimed Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte was exiled after his defeat at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815.
As there is no harbor at St. Helena our ship anchored some distance from the only town, Jamestown, and those passengers who chose to tour the island were taken ashore in lighters. This was an incredible fun experience for me and I have very vivid memories of the hours spent in this special, historic place. My dad hired a taxi and guide and we drove along the narrow roads into the interior of the island, visiting Longwood House where Napoleon lived and subsequently died (in 1821). We visited his gravesite although he wasn't actually there. Forty years after his death his body was disinterred and transported back to France. We saw a large tortoise in the grounds of Longwood House which, we were told, had been living 135 years earlier when Napoleon had resided there.
Overlooking Jamestown, in the valley 500 feet below us, we stood at the top of Jacobs Ladder, a shortcut up (or down) the mountainside comprised of 699 steps and 2 inch diameter piping handrails on each side of its concrete steps. Several young boys, probably 14 or 15 years old, offered to show us a fast way down for a little financial incentive.
My dad paid each one a quarter or two. They straddled the steps with their heels on one side and their backs over the other and began to slide down the mountain, picking up speed as they descended. The steps were 900 feet from the top to the main street of Jamestown below. I guess those boys made it to the bottom in less than two minutes. My brother and I took the 699 steps down. I remember my legs being sore for several days afterward.
For another five days we sailed eastward toward the African continent. Late in the afternoon on day five we felt the engines slow as the sky became overcast. Just before dark I saw the outline of the sunlit Table Mountain through the clouds and later the lights of the city were twinkling ahead of us as we entered Table Bay. It didn't occur to my uneducated boyhood brain at the time but this historic natural harbor had sheltered ships for almost 500 years.
The following day the family went ashore and took a taxi around the City of Cape Town or Kaapstad as it had been called by the Dutch. It was cloudy and raining so our tour was brief and we didn't attempt to see the main tourist attractions. Over the next 25 years I would return to this most beautiful Cape Peninsula many times. Thirteen years later my bride and I would fly into Cape Town and spend a short honeymoon there before beginning a new job in the area.
My 1956 adventure neared its conclusion as the African Enterprise left Table Bay and rounded the "Cape of Good Hope" heading east into the Indian Ocean. Two days later we ended our voyage in Algoa Bay (now Nelson Mandela Bay) and the city of Port Elizabeth.
Within two weeks we would move to a comfortable house in Uitenhage, 20 miles inland. Adventure number 2 would begin when my twin brother and I put on our school uniforms for the first time and walked a mile to the all boys High School that would educate us for the next 5-1/2 years.
We were two skinny American kids with strong southern accents. The other 500 boys in the school had foreign accents.
Joan, Alan and Graham at Victoria Falls - August,1975
I immigrated to Africa as a 12 year old boy. It wasn't a decision I made consciously but the journey from Gadsden, Alabama to Uitenhage, South Africa would have a profound influence on my life ever after. I was destined to live in South Africa (12 years) and then Rhodesia for another 13 years before returning to the US and settling in Littleton, Colorado with my wife, Joan, and three children Alan, Graham and Carol in 1980.
The children grew and in 1984 Joan, who was born in Rhodesia, passed away when Alan was 13, Graham was 12 and Carol was 10. The following year, I took the three kids to Zimbabwe for four weeks. We stayed with their grandfather Hank Blowers, visited many old friends and had a memorable week-long camping trip on the shores of Lake Kariba. The trip had a major influence on the 14, 13 and 11 year olds. Apart from the experience of the wilderness and wildlife, the kids were able to cement memories of their earlier years (they were all born in Rhodesia - now Zimbabwe) and see people and cultures that few Americans get to see firsthand.
Several years later, Jan and I were married and we brought together her two children, Kevin and Kristin and my three. This Brady Bunch amalgam allowed us to experience five High School graduations over a five year period.
Later we organized our first tour group and went on a 17-day tour of Zimbabwe. That was the beginning of quite a few trips to the southern end of Africa. In 2000 we attended a course in Denver and acquired credentials as Certified International Tour Managers (CITM) with the intention of leading small tour groups. ___________________________________________
Now it is January 2011 and Jan and I have begun to fulfill a long-held desire to go back to southern Africa with some of our children and grandchildren. This is a blog about that trip, begun a year and a half early. We wanted to wait until our grandchildren were old enough to appreciate the wonders of the dark continent and Avery will be 11 when we go back in July 2012.
On New Years day 2011, Kevin, Michelle and nine year Avery came over for lunch and we began to discuss Africa 2012. I sent an email to our daughter Carol, to Alan and Lauren and their three daughters Keely (9), Sydney (8) and Abby (4), and to Graham and Candace and their two boys, Cameron (10) and Chase (6). The word was out. The time is now. Start taking notes and making plans. Above all, begin saving money. ____________________________________________________
This blog is a diary of sorts; but not just a diary. I will add stories from long ago and write about some of my experiences living and traveling in Africa. Jan and I have kept travel journals and self-published books of each of our six trips to southern Africa (some of which we will throw in here to add some flavor) and I had the good fortune to be able to visit several remote, but remarkable, National Parks in Tanzania in 2005 and published a book of photos and notes from that journey as well - which I will share.
The final part of this lengthy introduction is about books. We operate a small home-based business which we call BookCrafters. Through our experience (since 2007) of designing and publishing books using BookSmart software from the online publisher Blurb.com, we began to help others create and publish their own customize books. It has been a rewarding endeavor and we have been kept very busy, helping interesting customers and making friends across this wonderful country. This blog and the travel journal that it will eventually give rise to will be published as a book.
I wrote the following blog about Africa in 2007. Seems like it might make a decent introduction.
A blog about Africa 17 February, 2007
One can only go so long without thinking about Africa. I think, therefore I blog. Ask many people what their "once in a lifetime, dream vacation" would be, and the reply is often, "a trip to Africa." What they don't really foresee, of course, is that once you visit, the urge to return is planted firmly in your mind. Before you leave that vast continent, you almost invariably begin to plan the next trip.
When it is discovered that I lived in Africa for 25 years, from the age of 12 until my 37th year, I find I have to answer certain questions over and over. A few examples:
1. "Some friends from our church run a mission near Lake Victoria. Do you happen to know them?" When I ask in what country the mission is located, there is often confusion. Africa is a very big place you see, with over 50 countries, five time zones, seven or more climatic regions, 900 million people and, evidently, as many as 14 million proverbs. Then I have to explain that Nairobi is a mere 1,800 miles from where I use to live in Harare and no, the despotic regime of Idi Amin did not threaten me or my wife and children. 2. "Is the political situation in Africa stable now?" or "has the rioting in South Africa subsided?" It's difficult to answer these questions. 3. Someone once asked me, "Where IS South Africa?" I calmly explained that it is at the southern tip of Africa. This seemed to make a lot of sense to my inquisitor. Perhaps he was just testing me. 4. "What is your biggest fear when you go to Africa?" The answer to that one is easy, "That we'll eat too much." 5. "If you could go to one place in Africa, where would it be?"
Aside from familiarizing ourselves with basic geography, it is a good idea to read about Africa. Watching Animal Planet or National Geographic documentaries about wildlife, is entertaining and interesting, but it seldom reveals much about the people, cultures and political circumstances of the continent. One of the most insightful articles I have ever read (and I have read a lot) about Africa was published in January 2006, in Granta 92: "The View from Africa." It was authored by Binyavanya Wainaina, who lives in Nairobi, Kenya. Mr. Wainaina is the founding editor of a literary magazine called Kwani? and was recently nominated by the World Economic Forum as a "Young Global Leader."
His brilliant essay is titled "How to Write About Africa," - 'some tips: sunsets and starvation are good.' It is included in a compendium of new African literature, along with the writings of 14 other writers, from disparate backgrounds. Wainaina's observations are cruel, sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek, funny and truthful. A few excerpts will give you an idea: "Never have a picture of a well-adjusted African on the cover of your book, or in it, unless that African has won the Nobel Peace Prize. An AK-47, prominent ribs, naked breasts: use these. If you must include an African, make sure you get one in Masai or Zulu or Dogon dress." "In your text, treat Africa as if it were one country. It is hot and dusty with rolling grasslands and huge herds of animals and tall, thin people, who are starving. Or it is hot and steamy with very short people who eat primates. Don't get bogged down with precise descriptions. Africa is big: fifty-four countries, 900 million people who are too busy starving and dying and warring and emigrating to read your book. The continent is full of deserts, jungles, highlands, savannahs and many other things, but your reader doesn't care about all that, so keep your descriptions romantic and evocative and unparticular."
"Taboo subjects: ordinary domestic scenes, love between Africans (unless a death is involved), references to African writers or intellectuals, mention of school-going children who are not suffering from yaws or Ebola fever or female genital mutilation."
"Remember, any work you submit in which people look filthy and miserable will be referred to as the 'real Africa', and you want that on your dust jacket. Do not feel queasy about this; you are trying to help them to get aid from the West. The biggest taboo in writing about Africa is to describe or show dead or suffering white people." "Animals, on the other hand, must be treated as well rounded, complex characters. They speak (or grunt while tossing their manes proudly) and have names, ambitions and desires. They also have family values: see how lions teach their children? Elephants are caring, and are good feminists or dignified patriarchs. So are gorillas. Never say anything negative about an elephant or a gorilla. Elephants may attack people's property, destroy their crops, and even kill them. Always take the side of the elephant."
"Readers will be put off if you don't mention the light in Africa. And sunsets, the African sunset is a must. It is always big and red." "Always end your book with Nelson Mandela saying something about rainbows or renaissances. Because you care."
This author has his finger firmly on the pulse of western literary attitudes. If you are interested in reading the entire text of Mr. Wainaina's article, do a Google search for Binyavanga Wainaina or go to www.granta.com/extracts/2615.
Jan and I have planned a tour to Namibia and Botswana for next year (2008) and when we do that, the questions begin again. The fears and doubts are revealed. We always go to see the wildlife and the scenery, old friends and, yes, the sunsets! It is hard to describe the thrill of sitting in an open vehicle within a few feet of an elephant, or a cape buffalo or a pride of lions. There's that question,"Isn't it dangerous to be so close to those big cats?"
My formative years in Africa and our travels over the last decade have always been immeasurably enriched by the friendly people we meet along the way. We have seen local people being treated rudely by tourists, Americans among them, who are ignorant, arrogant and paternalistic and who seem convinced that every African is in need of charity. - an attitude so skillfully described in "How to Write about Africa."
