Love, Distance, and a City Called Home

A Month On

Today marks a calendar month since I boarded the flight for the 13-hour, 25-minute journey back from Cape Town to Manchester, and yet the scenes from that visit still run through my mind as though the credits have not quite rolled. Already, I am planning the next one.

Cape Town represents more than a destination; the story began barely seven years ago, when Brian and I had our second rendezvous in South Africa. Soon after we met in Johannesburg in December 2018, I resolved to spend the next Easter with him.

It was a stroke of good fortune that in late February 2019, work dried up and, rather than loiter aimlessly waiting for a new posting, I took a next-day flight to Johannesburg. It was entirely unscripted, and yet it became the scene that changed everything. Brian joined me for ten days, which became the consummation of our relationship.

From Joburg to Cape Town

I did not cancel the planned Easter meeting. Some scenes, it seems, are written regardless of what comes before them. We were going to meet up in Johannesburg, fly together to Cape Town, and then return to Joburg for the end slice of our holiday.

Now, we just meet up in Cape Town and make home in apartments around the city and suburbs. It is the kind of story you return to willingly, knowing the setting well but always finding something in it you had not quite seen before. Each stay brings unforgettable memories as we work towards being together a lot more than being apart.

What Love Brings

What Brian brings into my life is immeasurable: love, care, companionship, laughter, shared experiences, and stories that make our uniquely special bond everything that matters to both of us. These are not trivial things. They are the substance of a story worth telling, and more importantly, worth living.

My heart is full, and I am blessed with such unconditional love that I pray daily to be worthy of the affection that someone expresses so wholly, freely, sincerely, and unashamedly.

Never a Dull Moment

There is never a dull moment. The way we seek out adventure, revisiting old haunts or discovering new places, gives the story its texture, the kind of detail that stops a narrative from flattening into something predictable.

So, Cape Town is a place transforming into a reality what is the stuff of impossible dreams coming true. Love transcends distance, endures difficulty, ekes out the best, and writes the stories we could never have imagined.

Cape Town, Our Home

Our minds walk through places we have registered so well that each recollection feels like more than words. It is like a film playing back, slowing just enough for us to keep up with everything, with no need to rewind or fast-forward; it is always at the right pace. Perhaps that is what love does to memory. It becomes the editor, keeping only what matters.

That is why we know Cape Town will be our home, our sanctuary, our nest, and our place. The story is far from over. We cannot wait to be together again in the Mother City; even time folds for the purpose of real love.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Sipping the Hazards of Earl Grey

A Chance Encounter

It must be a kind of hazard going shopping with your mother, or that is how we felt for the young man yesterday as we stopped for a pot of Earl Grey tea and a slice of too-creamy carrot cake.

We took the table beside two white ladies who wouldn't look out of place at a seaside café in Eastbourne, England, and we have seen quite a few ladies in Pinelands that remind me of home.

It is that quiet sophistication of a Laura Ashley print dress, very sensible shoes, hair somewhere between Margaret Thatcher and the late Queen, lip-defining lipstick without drawing too much attention, and costume jewellery giving airs of pearl for a necklace and earrings.

The Retired Teachers

Every younger lady who walked by seemed to know them. Without trying to be a Miss Marple, I suspect they were retired teachers, as you do not become that well known without being invested in the community. If I had wanted to engage them in conversation, I might have used the angle of familiarity to start one.

The only exchange between us was them asking if we had enough space to sit at the table. However, I could not grasp any snippets of their conversation except when they interacted with passers-by.

An Overheard Exchange

Just before our tea arrived, a middle-aged lady with a tallish young man came by, and beyond the greetings a longer conversation unfolded. From what ensued, one could surmise that he was her son. Quite soft-spoken and almost sheepishly shy, we soon found one of the ladies updating her database of facts about him.

We learnt his name, that he had just completed a master's degree, and that he had a British passport. Yet in the context of that exchange, even with the apparent privilege of being Caucasian in South Africa, there was the feeling that this country did not offer him a promising future. This young man was to set sail, though not on an Elder Dempster ocean liner, to the United Kingdom to seek his fortune.

Contrasting Perspectives

I contrast this with the idea that I seek to set up home, live, and retire in South Africa, as I see opportunities and possibilities where the locals appear not to. However, the broader point, as summarised by my partner, is the danger of meeting old ladies in a public space.

Before you know it, a catalogue of your life is revealed to strangers who might make a blog of it. Poor Joseph.

A Google NotebookLM AI Audio Overview Discussion of this blog

Cape Town: Is it time to lean on the fat?

How addiction hobbles our chances

Walking through a cancer hospital to the department where you are receiving treatment reveals a world of great suffering, the unerring will of humanity to survive, the purveyance of hope for which the only currency of purchase is faith that could waver depending on prognosis, pain, confidence, or despair; it is a teaching and humbling moment.

How I have wanted to walk out of that hospital and snatch a cigarette from the lips of a young smoker totally oblivious of what cancer does to the body and how the odds one faces with cancer depends of what it is, where is has been found, if it has spread and if there is a body of knowledge and expertise available to give you a chance to survive.

Then, I do not have to walk far to realise how much of a hold tobacco and nicotine has over people. As at a designated area near the entrance of the same cancer hospital, you will find patients undergoing cancer treatment huddling in corners for another drag of the poison already killing them. They give themselves no chances at all, and if they come through, good for them.

This is obese in plain sight

In Cape Town, there was something we could not unsee, when we stay in Cape Town, we try as much as possible to walk everywhere and everything is within walking distance. Even on days I did not seem to have the strength or the capacity, I made my daily 10,000 steps.

Walking alongside us or coming into view from our vantage point of observation was someone carrying just that extra extra bit of weight on their hips, their bellies, and usually both, then arms and thighs; sights to make you catch your breath.

What you cannot deny is there is an obesity problem which should be registering somewhere in the South African healthcare system. There cannot be any aesthetic value to wanting to tip the scales until the springs broke.

How you address this obvious health crisis will no doubt require tact, wisdom, and some innovative policy initiatives, it should not be ignored. You could see people who could barely move, some were panting every few steps and I cannot put a statistical value on those who might have already acquired diseases of the heart, the kidneys, the pancreas, the liver, and other related serious health problems because of this excess weight.

The fast in fast-food is weight

One other observation we made when we were in Muizenberg, some 25 kilometres from Cape Town, with long stretches of beautiful beaches that more deserted than walked, was the number of delivery bikes that attended our estate at all hours, as if most did no home cooking, but relied on fast food. We do most of our cooking, from quick preparations like stir fries to slow cooking activities, it is about the willingness and timing.

In town, the fast-food outlets are full, taking orders for tables and takeaways for patrons and the ubiquitous delivery bikers, God forfend we dignify those places with the moniker of restaurant. They offer you something to masticate and swallow, but none of it is of value to your body and if you do not work it off, it sits somewhere in your body and accumulates in fatty tissue.

Maybe the new miracle weight-loss drugs might bring respite to the South Africans we saw and give them a fighting chance, but it also must include some desire and the will to do something about it.

While everyone is free to celebrate their bodies and love who they are, while not being shamed for what they have become, we need to square the circle between feeling good and being healthy. That will not come by lying to be nice.

Homeward bound from South Africa

The weight of travel

Packing your bags is not an easy task, especially if you have three pieces of luggage to evenly distribute the weight, a rucksack with kit and medication, and suit bag.

The suit bag contained a set of pyjamas that for my recent modes of travel have not felt that convenient to wear, a jacket and scarf for the abrupt change in the weather I will encounter, and a spare set of incontinence underwear. If I may reiterate an established notion, I am a traveller, not a backpacker.

Intercontinental incontinence

When you are on a plane and there is a queue for the unisex toilets, besides rocking from foot to foot, you just want to be careful no spillage occurs before you gain access to the facilities.

On both my outbound and return journeys, it has not been that bad, and I have not had to wave my "Just Can't Wait" card. The moment I feel an urge, I do not second guess it, I make my way to the toilets.

I had scheduled my Uber pick up the night before, my assigned driver cancelled, the alternative was stationary just over a mile away for 20 minutes, and not responding to my communications, that by the time Uber suggested he was late, I was assigned a third driver who then arrived within 5 minutes of the scheduled time.

The ride to the airport was easy and fast, early morning bookings before the break of dawn can be a bargain too. He helped load and unload my luggage and I took tentative steps to the check-in counter close to the entrance.

Half a day air bound

Though I have lost my Platinum and Gold loyalty status, you still get some priority service on Silver Flying Blue status. My luggage was checked through to Manchester, and I was conveyed from the customer assistance lounge, taken through security checks and passport control to the boarding gate, then wheeled to the door of the flight where I was the second passenger to board.

Seating was comfortable enough, a slight seat recline, a lounge support for my legs, and a footrest, along with a blanket and a pillow. That was the beginning of the first leg of my journey of just 11h13, I guess I have done that a few times already.

A 3-hour stopover in Amsterdam before I board another flight to Manchester had me ensconced in the customer assistance lounge on comfortable seats. They should consider serving beverages rather than have people lumber off to the shops. A nearby toilet would be helpful too.

A chat with my support person

Then I was brought to boarding desk as one of the first to board. Arriving in Manchester, I stayed on the flight until everyone was almost off, my customer support wheelchair was up a flight of stairs and then I was conveyed to passport control and then to baggage reclaim.

The support assistant was from Somalia and after informing him of why I had travelled to South Africa, I explained why as a Black man he had to be conversant with his prostate health. His uncle recently had radiotherapy for throat cancer at the Christie Hospital and he had chaperoned his uncle a few times.

Between snatches of reality and humour, he got the message and point-blank refused a tip, he felt he had gained so much from our conversation and that was enough. I called an Uber for home and ended up in a luxury car, the driver from Africa had lived in Italy for two decades before coming to the UK.

You will always be understood

He was concerned about his lack of fluency in English that he felt was a handicap. My view was as long as he could put words together, he would be understood. He should always speak his mind and besides, many of those who would typically abuse him are not as successful as him driving an E-class Mercedes Benz, he should in fact celebrate his achievements.

Obviously, on some occasions, he simply got his son into the conversation with establishments or the authorities. Every likelihood was he would get whatever he intended done.

As I arrived at home, he helped unload my luggage and brought them into the foyer, all the help I received from door-to-door of about 18 hours was the preparation for rest after such a lengthy journey. I unlocked my door, my house sitter had outdone himself this time, somewhere between it having been hit by a super hurricane and a full ransack of the house, I was soon pushing a vacuum cleaner and brushing the floors. I found the energy; it was the very last straw.

Coronavirus streets in the heat - LIII

No scrubs

As I stepped out unto Main Road this afternoon, life began imitating a song by TLC; a scrub indeed, though sitting in the back seat popping his head out of the window, hollering at a lady as they drove past, a pesty attempt at a catcall as the lady somewhat delectable tried to ignore him. [YouTube: TLC - No Scrubs]

Too much of this happens, where men just think any lady that walks by is open for some sort of assault without any recourse to anything including the law apart from keeping to herself indifferent to the raucous around her with the hope she’ll be out of earshot before some animal instinct informs the man to advance into her personal space.

Skimping the heat

On the weather, a subject that you do not have to ask an Englishman to initiate conversation, I am close to melting point as I left home with temperatures close to freezing and until a couple of days ago, we were in the early twenties that some have terms unseasonably cool, now that we are breaching the thirties, anywhere to keep cool in the shade is what I seek. There is no air-conditioning here, they have a heater instead, in Cape Town.

Anyway, this seems to change the mode of dress, I am keeping in shorts, T-shirts and sandals, trousers would apply to church and evenings, the jacket has become optional and at most times unnecessary. As we left for church this morning, I could not help but notice that a lady seemed to have more material in her hairdo than on her shorts. Go figure!

Keeping sensibly safe

Again, we cannot ignore the pandemic, we are still diligently taking precautions, wearing facemasks whenever we are outdoors, social distancing, keeping away from crowds and enclosed places. Sitting outside if that is available at restaurants or as well away from people as possible.

Life however goes on, and it would seem they have a bigger problem in the UK than we have down in South Africa, we still have our temperature taken when entering certain establishments, asked to sanitise our hands at every opportunity and even have to register with names, telephone numbers and even addresses. None of that happened much in the UK, that is it any wonder that in our liberal quest for freedoms and liberties, the infection rates have been the highest in the UK for the past 3 days? [WorldMeters.info - Coronavirus]

Essential Snobbery 101: A few whines on wines

The first in the land

We were at Groot Constantia, the oldest wine estate in South Africa established in 1685 when it was built by Simon van der Stel, the first Governor of the Dutch Cape Colony. As we arrived after the restaurants had closed to serving breakfast even though it was well before noon, the prospect for a lunch did not appeal to me and nothing on the menu looked like brunch.

We both had a glass of Groot Constantia Method Cap Classique Brut Rosé, the Méthode Cap Classique (MCC) is the equivalent of sparkling wine from the Champagne region of France, but it cannot be called Champagne outside France.

Sniffing and tasting

Now, whilst I appreciate the work that goes into winemaking, one needs to be excused from the snobbery of liking wine by consensus when one does not find the wine to one’s taste and we have poured a lot more down a spittoon than drank of the wines we have tasted at many wine estates.

Of the five wines that I got to taste, there is not much of the superfluity of the oenophile in my description, it either worked for me or it did not. I suppose my nose is not as attuned to perceiving distinctive aromas as my palate might not be as sensitive as that of a Komodo lizard either.

Groot Constantia Rosé 2020

After the first sip, we found ourselves craving the proximity of a spittoon, for we were not enamoured, the Rosé was pale to a brownish hue and there was no lingering aftertaste. Forgettable was almost too effusive in praising the wine. Yes, it has won prizes, nonetheless not with us.

Groot Constantia Gouverneurs Reserve White 2018

The bouquet was fresh, and it touched the nose delicately. The first taste was good with a hint of elderflower, though I could not say this feeling would endure. Whilst it was vaunted as a flagship wine, for me, the ship has sunk, and all hands lost.

Groot Constantia Merlot 2018

In the glass, this presented long tears, it has been crying for a long time in French oak barrels for 18 months for maturation and distinction. A slight fruitiness, I perceived with a beautiful palate, though I felt it might need decanting to give my tongue the full experience.

Groot Constantia Gouverneurs Reserve 2018

I saw a full dark colour with a strong bouquet. Good enduring taste that was quite thick on my palate. Definitely one for meats and strong flavours. I could buy this, but not today. Best in class, they say, but who’s attending?

Groot Constantia Cape Ruby 2018

Cape Ruby is the designation for port wines in South Africa. This was sweeter and fruitier than what you get with Tawny port. I felt it did not have that strong port provenance that challenges the occasional aftertaste of a Stilton cheese. This would not do; I have to look elsewhere.

Of the plans and the times

Signposts of the Passion

Two Easter weekends ago, I had arrived in South Africa, met up with Brian in Johannesburg, and we both travelled to Cape Town where we spent 12 days, the blossoming of a new relationship and probably one of the most exciting times in my life. It was an opportunity to get to know each other better, after the sudden opportunity to meet in Johannesburg in late February 2019.

The Easter meeting had been planned from mid-January, I just knew I wanted to see him again and find out if there was a prospect of something between us. After that April meeting, the plans to meet over the summer were thwarted that it was not until September and then December that we met again.

By then, I was sure I was ready for a lifelong relationship with all the formalities that would establish us as a couple and married. My projection was for last year’s Easter, but the pandemic had taken hold, I was out of work and we were in lockdown. Every prospect of meeting up just looked ever so distant, opportunities quickly fizzling out as our host country was not accepting guests and England ended up in a second lockdown.

The plan waits for its time

Surely, when we next meet, I thought again, we could get it done, tie the knot and finalise the formalities. That is what I thought we would do when we met up in December after 11 months apart, but things did not go our way. Bureaucracy, officialdom, and an absence of waivers even in the midst of a pandemic meant we had to schedule it for another time. However, we now knew what to do.

I cannot say we would have been able to consider it this Easter weekend, much as I would have loved to get or steal away. There is an international travel ban from England and our countries are in various forms of lockdown that militates against our plans. We are hopeful and looking forward, and even if our apparently well-laid plans have been tossed by circumstances beyond our control, I have the feeling that by the next Easter weekend, we would be telling a different and amazing story. 

On the palate of a Zoom call

An experience to relish

Zooming into a meeting this evening after work, I got to participate in a virtual wine-tasting activity that was more fun than one could have anticipated. It so happens that with the pandemic, people have to think of more innovative ways to socialise and even meet strangers with common interests.

Capreo, a wine distributor for over 50 wine estates in South Africa had contacted me a month ago to invite me to the event on behalf of the Backsberg Wine Estate. We have visited Backsberg thrice and have always enjoyed the hospitality and professionalism of the people there, beyond which the wines are just well suited for our palates.

A participation we enjoyed

On the call, we had up to 13 participants, the moderator from Capreo, from Backsberg, the export manager and winemaker with his oenophile girlfriend and people joining from Germany, Austria, Czech Republic, Belgium, the UK, and New Zealand. We were to receive by mail 6 bottles of the wines to be tasted, those did not arrive for some of us due to postal and Brexit-related issues.

Wine tasting notes from Backsberg except where indicated. 

Backsberg Chenin Blanc 2020

Backsberg John Martin Reserve Sauvignon Blanc 2019

Backsberg Pinotage Rosé 2019

Backsberg Pumphouse Shiraz 2018

Backsberg Klein Babylons Toren 2017 (Capreo notes)

Backsberg Family Reserve Red 2016

An order I had placed a month ago included Backsberg Pinotage Rosé 2019 which allowed me to participate in the discussion apart from other contributions to the general discussion about wine pairings, the wine estate, and the atmosphere at the estate.

Maybe soon in person

The session ran for almost two hours though because of load shedding issues in South Africa, Backsberg dropped off, just after all the wines had been talked about. Whilst for all of us, we would have preferred to be at the wine estate in the backdrop of the Simonsberg in Paarl, this as a second-best alternative was more than worthwhile.

I probably should have taken notes about the wines, which I did not, we would all be expected to put in an order for wines within the next week. With pleasure and the hope for a more involved experience very soon. Backsberg Cape Ruby 2017 the South African variety of port-like wine is one I would like much of, a visit is in view and the replenishment of my stock.

Brexit by the wine glass

Can’t whine about wine

Much as we try to ignore it, the invisible dead hand of Brexit reaches out and touches things that matter though tolerable for the times we are in.

On Friday, the 19^th of February, I got a call from the European wine distributor of some of the wine estates we visit in the Cape Winelands of South Africa. Whenever we’ve had the opportunity, we have gone to Backsberg in Paarl and Allée Bleue in Franschhoek, both places we last visited in January 2020 because of the alcohol ban over the recent Christmas/New Year period made a visit, not particularly worthwhile.

Capreo GmBH in Germany had called me earlier that day to invite me to an online wine tasting that will be hosted on Zoom by them and the vintner at Backsberg, the distributor supplying the wine and hoping that I will put in an order soon after.

Staggered by Brexit

Since I already had a good idea of what like, I made an order for wine from both estates buoyed by the assurance that the delivery will not be disrupted by Brexit, we learnt the better by experience. Whilst postage and packaging was paid by the distributor, the process of getting from Germany to the UK with UPS was fraught with issues we could not explain and no one could give any useful reason for it.

My order was processed on Tuesday, the 23^rd of February, on the 24^th an issue with a missing commercial invoice was resolved and one would think the parcel will be on its way on Thursday the 25^th. That was the first of three days of getting the message, “The package is delayed due to a Brexit-related disruption. We are adjusting delivery plans as quickly as possible.” Each time, the delivery was adjusted an additional day until the parcel passed an Export Scan on 1^st of March.

Decanted at my doorstep

The Brexit-related disruption continued until the 4^th of March when it finally left Germany and arrived in the UK, but a few hours before the estimated delivery for Friday, the 5^th of March, it was postponed again to the morning of the 9^th of March, tomorrow. On Friday, I contacted Capreo about my order to no particular avail apart from being entertained with a friendly talkative banter which seemed to compensate for my apparent displeasure.

This morning, my apartment bell rang, and at the door was a delivery man with my box of wine arriving a day earlier than expected. It might well have been than containers bringing goods from Germany to the UK had to be filled and fully processed before my delivery could land, who knows. It definitely was not the experience when I put in an order last January.

I only hope my wine-tasting tipple is not lost in the Brexit quagmire that I am left sipping the wind in 11 days' time.

Tracking delivery notice

 

Detailed Tracking Information

This boy is on Pfizer

Preparations for the jab

I was a bit apprehensive about going for my vaccine just soon after work. I had prepared in more ways than one, gone online to find out about the Pfizer/BioNTech vaccine, what drug interactions it might have with my medication and if there were things I needed to be concerned about as someone in the vulnerable cohort. [SPS-NHS: Interactions information for Pfizer-BioNTech COVID-19 Vaccine]

Then, I changed from a long-sleeve vest and shirt to ones with short sleeves, took leaflets of my current medication, and my passport for identification. As I was unfamiliar with the location of the vaccination centre, I called an Uber cab and was on my way. The driver knew the centre, apparently, he had received his own first vaccination there last Thursday, he had nice things to say about the staff.

Formalities in questions

On arrival, I was ushered in after answering two questions about whether I had any symptoms or had tested positive with the Coronavirus in the past 28 days. Having answered in the negative to the questions, she squirted sanitiser in my hands and gestured towards the line for registration.

At the desk, I was asked for my name and time of appointment before she confirmed my date of birth and affixed an identity label to my COVID-19 immunisation card and then told to wait to be called up for my vaccination.

Soon, I was called to a vaccination pod where I was asked a series of questions about what medication I was on, if I suffered severe allergic reactions, or if I had taken any other vaccine in the last 7 days and whether I had participated in a Covid-19 vaccine trial before.

Only Pfizer will do

Satisfied with my responses, I asked if I was getting the Prizer/BioNTech vaccine and explained why I was particularly keen on it as a frequent traveller to South Africa. Volunteering my understanding that the Oxford AstraZeneca vaccine was said to be less than efficacious on the South African variant of the Covid-19 vaccine.

I believe they had been briefed to shutdown any misgivings about the Oxford AstraZeneca vaccine, even an officiously looking lady came round and said the study was poorly set up and that I should stop reading conspiratorial ideas. Now, for South Africa to abandon that vaccine with their wealth of expertise, that is not something I would ignore. [BBC News: Covid: South Africa halts AstraZeneca vaccine rollout over new variant] [The New York Times: AstraZeneca’s Vaccine Does Not Work Well Against Virus Variant in South Africa]

Putting aside argument

There apparently is little confidence in the same vaccine across Europe. I am not here to wave a jingoistic flag for British technology when it comes to my health, I would not have taken the Oxford AstraZeneca vaccine if it were offered today as I had the choice of getting it elsewhere. I did not have to face that battle. [iNews: Europe’s reluctance to use the Oxford/AstraZeneca Covid vaccine slows roll-out, and isn’t backed up by data]

That put by the side, the nurse drew a dose of the vaccine from a vial and I was given the jab on my left arm, then advised to wait in an observation area for at least 15 minutes before leaving. The overseer of the observation area took my name and recorded it on a clipboard whilst adding 15 minutes to the time as when to ask if I was feeling fine before I could leave.

On exiting the centre, I decided to walk back and did feel a bit of tingling in my fingers. I stopped by the supermarket to get analgesics just in case. even jam doughnuts that I had shied away from for about two years and returned home to rest.

I've got the Pfizer in me

A jab invitation

Early last week, I received an SMS Text Message from my General Practitioner (GP) Practice inviting me to book my first COVID-19 vaccination. The message included a URL to a third-party website working for the NHS.

I thought I will be walking up to my GP Surgery some 350 metres away for the jab as I had done just about 4 months ago for my influenza and pneumonia jabs, but that was not the case. The website was offering two locations just about a kilometre and a half away from my home. One of the locations did not have available slots, so I was left with just one option.

Appointed to a long walk

The earliest day for the jab I could find was 9 days away and just not to mess up my day at work, just in case I have an adverse reaction, I took a late slot and that happens to be today, a Wednesday. I received a confirmation message and then a reminder yesterday.

Meanwhile, last Thursday, I got a call from my hospital where my consultant runs her practice asking if I had been contacted about receiving the COVID-19 vaccine. Whilst responding in the affirmative, since I have a better rapport with my consultant who I see much more frequently than my GP who I have never met, I had some concerns.

Choices for protection

Being a frequent traveller to South Africa, the Oxford AstraZeneca vaccine would not provide the best protection against the South African variant of the COVID-19 virus, it is said to be less than efficacious that South Africa abandoned the rollout of the vaccine. [BBC News: Covid: South Africa halts AstraZeneca vaccine rollout over new variant] [GOV.UK: Information for UK recipients on COVID 19 Vaccine AstraZeneca]

As a member of a vulnerable group, I had to be vaccinated but also with a view of knowing I am protected against strains in locations I might visit. My best option was the Pfizer/BioNTech vaccine, and I had to be sure that was what I was getting. The hospital offered to give me that, but I did not want to cancel my earlier appointment just in case they had it too. I obtained details of how to access the alternative before breaking off the call. [GOV.UK: Information for UK recipients on Pfizer/BioNTech COVID-19 vaccine]

Happily, what’s needed

Calling the other clinic, they did not know last week which vaccine will be offered this week, but they suggested I call sometime this week to find out. Thankfully, they were giving the Pfizer/BioNTech vaccine this week, which means I do not have to exercise my option just yet.

I left home with a lot of time to spare and got the Pfizer BioNTech vaccine. 

The CoVID-19 mutations are not the problem

South Africa is doing well

I have just about had it with all this talk about the South African variant or mutation of the Coronavirus, especially in the UK where it seems to be driving the conversation with hysterical and histrionic abandon.

The virus was the same everywhere until its apparently unchecked spread led to mutations and that is what we have seen with variants in the UK, from Mexico, from Brazil, unfortunately for first a region in South Africa before it really caught on.

I was in South Africa for five weeks, on holiday and also to be with my partner who I had not seen for 11 months because of this global pandemic. We were under stringent restrictions with extensive CoVID-19 protocols that are literally absent in the UK.

The things they did

We had to wear masks in public, on entry to any premises we had our temperature taken, we sanitised our hands, social distancing was the rule with CoVID marshals in public places. There was a night curfew, an alcohol ban, beaches were closed, but the public parks were open, we could visit museums and travel a bit.

They brought it under some control that they could ease these restrictions and begin to chart a path to recovery. Sadly, I do not see either the resolution, will, or competence of our government in the UK to reach a point where this virus will be controlled.

South Africa had checks as we came to passport control, our tests were checked, vitals observed and where anyone did not meet the requirements for entry, they were to be whisked off to quarantine hotels for 10 days at their own expense.

To leave South Africa, I had to take a PCR test that needed to be negative, I could not board a plane without it and had to don a mask through the flight. My details and particulars were checked as I traversed Paris, yet, when I arrived in the UK, there was nothing in place, I walked through immigration without any hinderance and was only contacted over 24 hours after my arrival and then 4 days later to consider a CoVID-19 test, just in case I had returned with the South African strain.

We need better hands

This should have been checked at my entry into the UK, but here we are with well over 100,000 deaths because of the lackadaisical and moribund policies of this inept government. The variants and the mutations are not the problem, it is the ability to handle it and manage it whilst carrying the people along with convincing and competent governance that will bring this under control.

Let’s just say it as it is, the South Africans have been competent and efficient that in the midst of a pandemic, they opened for tourist and managed the situation, despite the variation or mutation, life is getting better.

The vaccines will work only to the extent that we remain vigilant, it will not be a talisman to wipe away the errors in managing this pandemic, we hope in time, the principals in this matter will be held accountable and responsible.

On the mind of travel

A leg to start off

My thoughts wander from arrival to departure in the things we control and the things we must consider for now and after. These were ruminations of the mind as I began my travel from South Africa back to the UK. There were three legs to my journey, from Cape Town to Johannesburg on a once rescheduled, then cancelled and then rebooked flight which was a British Airways flight managed by their partner and subsidiary Comair.

Arriving 3 hours early at the Cape Town International Airport, I was not allowed to check-in for another hour. A porter helped me from the Uber cab that got me to the airport and stayed with me through check-in to when I had to go through security. He was of a friendly disposition, a human resources manager before he retired and took on porterage to keep busy. Porters get by on tips, though licenced and uniformed, they are not salaried, hence, the jostling for custom. I was even asked if I needed a wheelchair; we laughed.

Let’s get ready to fly

The first leg was uneventful, nothing was served to us on that two-hour flight and my baggage was not checked through to Manchester. I had to collect my baggage and check-in at the AirFrance desk in Johannesburg for my flight to France. I had a 4-hour stopover in Johannesburg, much time to reminisce about the last 5 weeks and the thought that Brian still had another 3 nights in South Africa before returning home.

When the time came for boarding came for my long-haul flight second leg to Paris, by the time I arrived at the gate, I was unable to take advantage of priority boarding. I was in Zone 1 and Zone 4 & 5 were already boarding. The crowd as such that there it was unnecessary to claim that right, I settled into the queue as it took almost 15 minutes to board. I took my window seat beside an ageing couple in the middle aisle seats then made to the toilet to change into my pyjamas before handing my clothes to the air steward to be hung in the cupboard.

Miles and wiles

For a while now, I have taken no entertainment on the flight and concentrated more on the flight maps. We were to fly 5,530 miles or 8,900 kilometres over 10:17 hours to arrive at 05:35 hours local time in Paris. We took off on a Boeing 777-328(ER) at the speed of 210.6 mph (339 km/h) and soon reached cruising speed of 581 mph (935 km/h) and cruising height of 32,001 ft (9,753 m). We did after the Equator breach 10 kilometres, but I could not be bothered than much.

I maintain fascination with the place names I see on the flight map unsure of if I would ever visit, talk less of the logistics of getting there surrounded by my creature comforts. I am not one to countenance backpacking, a strain of colonial expectation greets my desire to have Sherpas and campaign furniture. If I deign to suffer such an experience.

Louis Trichardt, South Africa; Selebi-Phikwe, Maun, Mopipi all in Botswana, and Kuito (Silva Porto), Angola caught my attention before I fell asleep, tossing and turning, waking up 4 times to use the toilet. I had dinner but requested I be left alone at breakfast time which was to be around the unholy hour of 04:00 hours.

And then we land

After changing into my pyjamas, I was offered another window seat with presumably more space. We wore our masks throughout the flight except for when we had drinks and meals. At one point, the man sat in front of me acknowledged me. How uncanny, he was the same man who sat beside me on the first leg.

Arriving in Paris, I had a 7-hour stopover, I did not have to pass through immigration, but traversing Charles de Gaulle airport is never much a pleasure. I was soon through security and in the lounge that became quite busy by the time I left. The last leg was easy and after baggage reclaim clothed for the chill of winter, I was in a black cab, the window open and settled into what was supposed to be an imposed 10-day self-isolation. I look forward to another return journey that I so enjoy for the process and the purpose. One day, Brian will be by my side on the way to the land of happily ever after.

Doing what we had to do, for love

The shifting sands of planning

When Brian and I kissed goodbye on the 14^th of January 2020 in Johannesburg, nothing could have suggested we would not be meeting up in a couple of months. Then the pandemic came with the associated different levels of lockdowns and restrictions, we hoped but could not plan for anything.

Meanwhile, as it ravaged the UK putting us at the disadvantage of being one of the highest risk countries and so slamming the door on possible travel and leading to another month-long national lockdown, by which time we were in December.

As I had been anticipating a rendezvous from September, I had already hinted at work of my need to travel with the possibility of getting married when we next meet. I had considered taking two months off, but after looking at the options the 11^th of December was the best departure date with the prospect of the whole of January.

You can weather turbulence

Between negotiations from just the Christmas break and lobbing two weeks off the end of January return, we settled on a 5-week break and I was out to meet Brian who had arrived the day before in Cape Town on the 12^th of December. With hindsight, if I had not left the UK when I did, the cost of travel would have gone up almost 50% and another week, the new restrictions will have cancelled everything.

Whilst we were away, new strains of the Coronavirus were discovered and spreading more contagiously in the UK and South Africa that the world began to shut their borders to visitors from those countries. New lockdown measures were instituted with restrictions to movement, alcohol bans, curfews, with limited tourist activity and incremental measures to halt the spread of the virus just as vaccinations were being rolled out in some countries, the UK apparently taking the lead with the government thinking they had found a talisman to cover for the unmitigated and unnecessary loss of life numbering over 70,000 at that time.

Our things over other things

The swirl of events around us would have left some in a state of panic with the threat of abruptly shortening one’s holiday. I was of the mind that we would enjoy every moment we had together of 35 days and cross the bridge of when we needed to return to our respective homes when the time came. That is how we played it and had a wonderful time full of the expectation that we would soon be meeting up again.

I returned home yesterday just about 27 hours from door-to-door and Brian should be home in Bulawayo by noon tomorrow. Our story continues with an exciting chapter we have already begun to write. In our prayers, we know that dreams do come true.

At breakfast on Saturday, I wrote this short poem.

My heart is clouded in a mist,
With the heaviness of what'll be missed,
I slept beside you many times at night,
I woke up refreshed to kiss you in the light,
Now we are about to wave goodbye,
Each moment was a gushing high,
Love, It won't be long,
For this is not wrong.

My heart is clouded in a mist,

With the heaviness of what'll be missed,

I slept beside you many times at night,

I woke up refreshed to kiss you in the light,

Now we are about to wave goodbye,

Each moment was a gushing high,

Love, It won't be long,

For this is not wrong.@Brian07j pic.twitter.com/K3YfKMOHKX

— Akin Akíntáyọ̀ 🏳️‍🌈 #European (@forakin) January 16, 2021

Thoughts on my arrival in South Africa

A labouring arrival

Arriving in South Africa felt like another world, with announcements going out every few minutes to warn us to be safe and to protect all by protecting ourselves. At Johannesburg, all the travelators were not working as I walked that long distance from one end of the airport to immigration control.

Before getting in line, I was asked for my negative COVID-19 PCR test which was compared with the name on my passport. I have found I need to use my full legal name rather than the shortened versions that I have been identified with for longer than I can remember than I might even miss the calling of my full first name just out of being unfamiliar with it.

Using a cane meant I could join the shorter queue of those being provided some assistance, my temperature was taken and then the customs official pleasantly took my passport, asked for my mask to be removed, checked all my particulars, stamped my passport and sent me on my way.

No thrill at no frills

Getting a trolley was an involved exercise, I was already sweating profusely but the closest trolleys were all locked up in chains. I eventually got one, collected my baggage that had not been checked through to Cape Town only to encounter issues with the number of suitcases I could check-in with the partner airline that was to cover the Johannesburg to Cape Town final leg of my almost 27-hour journey.

This was resolved at the ticket sales desk and I was checked in to this no-frills single class airline where we were seated 6-abreast before I gave up my window seat for a family to sit together. The lounge setup was perfunctory but acceptable, the shoe-shiners were nowhere to be seen.

On arrival in Cape Town, the e-hailing ride section had been moved to another location, properly signposted as I have demanded many times before. I have religiously worn my mask through the whole travelling experience, it cannot be said of many other people. We just need to keep alert, aware, appreciative of the situation we are in, and we’ll be fine.

Travel in Coronavirus times

We all survived

Since I returned to the UK in mid-January, I have been in Manchester without any travel out of my city until now. My good friend was asking yesterday, how I had managed to survive the self-imposed lockdown that I had put myself in long before our government had a clue about what was happening. I just did.

The only opportunity I was looking for since the world was turned upside down was the window to get away to South Africa and be with Brian, our tentative plans for Easter were shot by circumstances beyond our control and when we thought things might ease up in South Africa, there was no respite until recently.

Plans and tests

Then as things began to clear up for us to plan our rendezvous, two months away would have been the minimum to consider, but that was negotiated down, but not by much. If anything, we have learnt that the moments we have together must be cherished.

Travel in these pandemic times presents all sorts of issues, at first, South Africa was not going to accept leisure travellers from high incidence of infection and deaths areas, then that stipulation was adjusted to require a negative PCR SARS-CoV-2 result at the port of entry, then my airline issued a statement that I will not be allowed boarding without it.

There was no getting so far before you hit the hurdles. I booked a same-day test that cost a king’s ransom and still had to do a self-swab of my throat and then up my nose, supervised by a nurse. Picking up mucus from my throat and sticking it up my nose was the ultimate in yuckery (a neologism expressing of yuck and distaste), but needs must.

Travel experience changing

Rather than wait up for the result which was to be delivered by email anytime between 4:00 PM and midnight, I went to bed and by the time I was up around 10:00 PM, the negative result had been posted just over two hours before. Brian’s test in Zimbabwe had a quicker turnaround, but it meant we would indeed be meeting up he is arriving a day earlier than I.

The first leg was uneventful, the lounges do not present buffets anymore, you are served instead with the staff now coming to inform you when your flight is ready to board. I have been maintaining significant distancing though there are others who seem to be unconcerned. From Manchester to Paris, we only got a cup of water, no other service. I would hope that is not the change to be expected in the future.

My mind is at ease, I have a great longing and we would make the best of it. This thing called love is a crazily lifegiving and overwhelming force, I yield completely to it.

Touched and violated by the incompetence of my government

Bullshit is just shit

When the grime minister of the United Kingdom and I do mean grime rather than prime stepped up to the podium to front a press briefing on the Coronavirus pandemic this evening, his voice was a repulsive grating sound to my hearing and probably to many others around our country.

The hollow unconvincing rhetoric with the attempt to stir and rouse us to a national cause to defeat this pandemic rang hollow with an unerring absence of sincerity or conviction. Anyone would commiserate with us on how this great country could have been afflicted with this impersonation of an atrocity too mean in its deathly grip of the notion, principles, and history that had made this our country a beacon of hope, power, and force for good.

The Coronavirus showed up this government in ways that no other event could, it did not come out of the blue, it was evident that it could be devastating from what was seen when in started in China and for weeks as we saw it sweep through northern Italy. Yet, we were caught flat-footed.

The walk must match the talk

The tools of bombast and bluster that had served this cohort of shysters and confidence tricksters were just hot air in the face of a pandemic, words had to be met with action, optimism was no substitute for facilitation and operational efficiency.

When Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) was required, it had to be properly sourced to meet our requirements ordered and delivered to the individuals who needed the protection to save themselves from contracting the virus and many health personnel died because the government’s weasel words of assurance met anything but the stark reality.

The same is the case for testing, for contact tracing and for knowing how far the testing is available to those who need it as a matter of urgency or criticality. The whole mission has been a catastrophic bungling that has left the UK with the highest death toll in Europe at 42,143 and the 5^th highest in the world.

They gave the gift of death

As a proportion of our total population, that statistic is more damning, because the UK rises to the 3^rd position behind Peru and Brazil. To match the UK death toll, only Spain is close, with 262, all other countries except the first 2 will have to record thousands of lost lives. That is how bad things are when it comes to the UK and the comparison in the top-10 countries in the numbers of the dead from this pandemic.

Figure 1: COVID-19 Statistics

COVID-19 data from COVID19Info.live and population data from U.S. and World Population Clock.

What makes this situation most compelling and personal for me is that South Africa is opening its borders for international travel from the 1^st of October; Brian and I were looking forward to meeting up there as soon as it was possible as we were last together in January.

As a result of the mishandling

We obviously need to see how things pan out, but my reading of the situation is quite bleak because the Foreign Minister released a statement that leaves me quite deflated and worried. “South Africa has developed a risk categorisation model for different international travellers. This model classifies international travellers according to a scale of high, medium and low risk.  High-risk travellers are those who come from countries with higher numbers of COVID-19 infections and reported deaths compared to South Africa.” This is the issue, “Leisure Travellers from high-risk countries will not be permitted.” [South Africa Government]

South Africa has only suffered 16,667 deaths due to the COVID-19 compared to the UK at 42,143, and that puts us in the high-risk country category and one can only wonder for how long. There are 12 countries above South Africa with a higher number of deaths, and that includes the United States, Italy, France and Spain.

It reminds me of a scripture, ‘For we have not an High Priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities.’ Hebrew 4:15 (KJV). Wherefore, in the UK, we have been touched by the magnitude of our government’s rank incompetence and ineptitude at the handling of this Coronavirus pandemic, part of the consequence is we might not be able to travel to countries where we were once very welcome.

I cannot be more pissed off with Boris Johnson and his cabinet for the situation in which we find ourselves. It is damning and it should have consequences, sadly, they might just get away with it too.

South Africa: If only you knew how we roll

Travelling well

My friends and some I have travelled together with know that when it comes to travel arrangements, I leave nothing to chance. The comfort of travel is just as important as the destination. As I leave my home, I expect things to be just so at the very least, I expect standards, high standards and will not flinch at demanding them.

For my return after a month in Cape Town, I ran the gauntlet of things out of kilter with the arrangements I had made. My return leg was Cape Town – Johannesburg – Paris – Manchester. For the over 12 years I lived in the Netherlands, I have retained my loyalty with KLM – AirFrance, a slight inconvenience of stopping over in Paris or Amsterdam, but it redounds to the loyalty scheme, I can bear it.

It’s easy, not really

However KLM – AirFrance do not run domestic routes in South Africa if you do not fly directly to Cape Town from Paris or Amsterdam, your stopover in Johannesburg requires you retrieve your luggage and use partners they have agreements with to complete the final leg, it is neither a codeshare nor alliance situation, just an arrangement.

I could not check-in for my return flight because the KLM – AirFrance app redirected me to Kulula, the booking reference was invalid. I had to visit the airport to have this fixed, they could only make arrangements as far as Johannesburg and that was the beginning of my ordeal. [kulula is not a separate company, but is a trading name of Comair, which also operates flights as a franchisee of British Airways.

I have much baggage

When I arrived at the airport for my trip, I found out that my queue-jumping access was not valid for check-in, only after security. At the counter, the agent then came up with all sorts of rules, Kulula only allows one checked-in baggage for the hold and one as carry-on.

I was having none of it, the printout from the Kulula sale offices the day before already indicated I could check-in two pieces of luggage. The KLM – AirFrance app said as much too, for all legs. In fact, it would be risible to have a situation where at the point of embarkation you had less checked-in luggage than when you were in transit.

A bit of back and forth with some senior official who said the rules at the airport in our conversation took precedence over the contract to carry my luggage on my ticket. I was about to relent, it would have been easier to storm off to a KLM – AirFrance counter and have this trashed out. I shouldn’t be having that conversation, it should be between the airlines.

Flights of fancy

Eventually, as the preponderance of evidence and facts weighed heavily on the situation, the official instructed the counter clerk to check-in all my baggage as long as each individual item did not weigh more than 23kg. I was scooting it at 22.8kg and 22.2kg.

I made it through security before seeing off Brian on his earlier and on schedule flight to Johannesburg. Soon, it was time to board my flight but something was wrong, there was no aircraft at the gangway of the proposed gate. I was the only one with queue-jumper status, it meant little in the end.

Our flight was going to be delayed 30 minutes before we were told the boarding gate had changed. On arrival at the new boarding gate, more tales and fantastic stories before were told there was a fault with the plane and it had been taxied off to a hanger. I guess we knew something was on.

Terminal déjà vu

Then, the plane was cancelled and we had to board a bus to arrivals terminal where we were to retrieve our baggage, go up to the sales desk for us to be shunted onto other airlines and then the check-in process, security and all that. In all my years of travel, I have never experienced this, and the way the Kulula staff informed us and handled the situation could be better. They’ll score a 6 out of 10.

Anyway, there were some really helpful staff before a good number on that Kulula flight had connecting flights from Johannesburg, we were anxious but calm. One exception was a lady shouting at the staff, it was out of their control and it did her no favours, she was obstreperous and demanding, irksome to say the least.

How we roll

I was booked on a BA flight, run by ComAir Limited in South Africa, I haven’t flown BA since March 2000 just before the DotCom crash. I was allocated a seat when I checked in my luggage, but by the time I presented my ticket to board the plane after security, I had been upgraded to business class. The obstreperous woman thought she was losing out on favours questioning why some of us were in business class. Woman, you don’t know how we roll.

She never got upgraded and she probably stewed through the flight to Johannesburg. We arrived in Johannesburg about 2 hours behind schedule, had some time with Brian before I was on my way back home.