South Africa: Table Mountain, Cape Town

Table Mountain first

As I got to Cape Town a Friday week ago, I was picked up at the airport by the chauffeur service I had ordered through my travel plans and made for my hotel.

Immediately after checking into my room, I looked out of the window and the backdrop to the horizon was the majesty of the Table Mountain, the side that looks like the table.

Going from the advice of the two pilots I met on my way to Cape Town, in the lounge and on the plane, I knew I had to get this event in as soon as possible.

Easy tickets and no queues

I did I quick web search and found that I could get my tickets online and possibly avoid the ticket queues at the place. I bought my ticket which appears to grant a 7-day access to the mountain.

The hotel kindly printed out my ticket and I called an UberBlack taxi to take me to the lower station of the cable car ride to the top of the mountain. Not knowing what to expect at the top of the mountain, I did my nature calls and then took the lift to the platform to await the cable car.

When the cable car arrived, there were just two seats in the centre at either side of the cable car driver, I took one as I tried to understand how the floor could be rotating and my still having the same view, I never figured it out.

Views only experience can explain

At the top of the mountain, I took in breathtaking views of Cape Town, beaches with turquoise coloured waters and much else that exemplifies the beauty of nature from a vantage point.

With my pair of binoculars and I suddenly realised they were over 20 years old now, the signs of wear were already showing on the casing, but the sights through the viewers were still as keen as if they were new, I saw clouds folding over the far end of the mountain in ways that would fill you with wonderment. Sometimes, the best appreciation of the beauty of our world can only be captured in experience rather than in pictures.

Then, I took the middle distance walk on top of the mountain spending about 3 hours there just taking in the views before descending via the cable car, this time, the floor was not rotating and I still could not tell the difference between the ascent and the descent, but that was one of my Cape Town goals completed.

Atop Table Mountain

South Africa: Originally from the expected

The identity conundrum

Every time I travel, I am always caught in the other person’s dilemma of cultural identity and their expectations based on assumption or stereotype.

Telling them who I am usually does not align with who they expect me to be, some might express polite surprise whilst others will indignantly expect me to fit into some preconceived pigeonhole to satisfy their inability to understand the concept of third culture kids.

The number of times I have had to argue the idea of where I am originally from on this trip to South Africa has tested my patience, much as I tried to offer an educational context to the matter of cultural identity.

All that I am

I am an Englishman, born of Nigerian parents in England, for what is essentially my outlook to life based of cultural influences of affiliation and residence, I am generally European with a strong Nigerian heritage I cannot repudiate, neither do I intend to repudiate all the cultural inputs that make up who I am.

Yet, I know that for all the time I did live in Nigeria, I was treated as an outsider, given much liberty to either ignore or be excused from traditions those originally Nigerian were expected to observe and adhere to. That does not mean I have not been in the deep recesses of certain ritualistic activities that are impossible to narrate to any logical mind.

Then, I am expected to be married with children, it appears to be the norm, yet, I don’t do norms, I have rarely ever done norms and so to the question of family, I always respond, I have a large family of one.

The gleam and shine

So, when on Friday, I passed through the domestic terminal of the O. R. Tambo International Airport and after the security checks I was accosted by a number of good-looking young men in black waistcoats, I soon realised they were offering to shine my shoes for 30 Rand.

I was persuaded to take up the offer and I sat on one of the high chairs to have my shoes, cleaned, buffed and shined. After the application of the polishing wax, I noticed the shining process also involved dipping the buffing cloth in water to bring out the shine, bringing out a gleam that lasted days after the job.

I soon learnt they were all on commission, hired by some gang master who probably creamed off their tips too, the young man who shined my shoes had studied electrical engineering.

Such amazing craftsmanship

He could not stop commenting on the quality of the workmanship of my shoes, and I could say, he had seen a good few shoes. I proudly told him they were made in England, I bought them online from Samuel Windsor whose workmanship in shoes, suits, shorts, ties and trousers, I cannot fault. They are only let down by the courier agents they use for delivering the orders.

In the end, so a good job was done that it was easy to part with multiples of the cost of shining my shoes in gratitude and pride.

It was one of those mornings where you just felt so proud to be an Englishman with the realisation that some elements of exquisite craftsmanship have not be lost to our isles.

Cape Town: Weathering two interesting pilots

Cape Town must be done

As my weekends rolled by towards the penultimate one in South Africa, I realised I needed to visit Cape Town to do the main and essential things and yet there would never really be enough time to do Cape Town justice.

The last time I was in Cape Town, I could only do the short bus tour before I was whisked away to a colleague’s home where we had a typical South African barbeque called a braai.

After struggling a bit to arrange travel online, I decided to visit a travel agent and this proved really valuable in the information I got and the appreciation of what I could get done in two days of a weekend. I planned on going up the cable car to the top of Table Mountain and also visiting Robben Island.

The travel agent then booked the flights, accommodation and airport transfers, the tours were best booked in Cape Town as I was advised because the weather could be unpredictable.

First pilot acquaintance

In the airport lounge, a mother with two boisterous boys was busy on her mobile phone as I took a seat not far from them when I realised it was a family with the father being a pilot with South African Airways brandishing a 3-stripe epaulette.

They were conversing in Afrikaans, most of which I understood using my Dutch knowledge, I was struggled to get the gripe off my glasses when got up and presented me with proper lens cleaners. I thanked him in Dutch and also said I could understand Afrikaans too.

He first thought I was Dutch, at least, the subtle differences in language help determine whether one is speaking Dutch or Afrikaans, the expression of gratitude can be a Shibboleth.

A conversation ensued as I told them I was visiting Cape Town for the weekend and they were on their way home to Cape Town from Hong Kong. The most important bit of information I got was about the weather, he checked the forecast and though it was cloudy in Cape Town on Friday morning, he surmised from the wind and humidity factors that it would be a clear day to go up Table Mountain.

I quickly realised too that pilots probably knew just as much about the weather as meteorologists, because that determines how they fly, just as must as the weather is important to sailors and mariners too.

Second pilot acquaintance

On the flight, I had the window seat sat beside a lady who seems to concentrate on her music and iPad for most of the journey. The Airbus A340 wide-bodied airliner was a revelation, ample leg room, almost fully reclining seats you could step out onto the aisle without disturbing your co-passenger. The aisle itself was wide enough for people to pass without having to sidle through if another passenger were put their hand luggage in the overhead cabins.

I noticed that she was not only recognised by the crew but literally every one of them came round to say hello, including other crew that were travelling as passengers. At one brief moment when she did not seem to be doing anything, I decided to start a conversation by asking if she lived in Cape Town.

She did, and in the process I learnt that she was returning from a holiday in America and as the conversation developed, another crew member came round to say hello and then asked when she was getting her fourth stripe. And though both cabin and flight crew can get stripes, I decided to play safe and ask instead if she also worked for South African Airways and it transpired she was a long-haul flight pilot with three-stripe epaulettes and one of the two female pilots that fly such distances.

A much interesting person

She sometimes flies the aircraft we were on, which is sometimes co-opted onto the busy Johannesburg to Cape Town route. By a strange coincidence, the captain of the flight we were on was the other long-haul flight South African Airways female pilot.

We got to talking about how she loved flying and that she had always wanted to fly from the age of 10, the only downside to the job was fatigue management, from crossing an average of 6 time zones overnight that there were days it was difficult to say what day of the week they were in.

As we approached, Cape Town, she hinted that the hotel I was staying at served an amazing menu of milkshakes and looking out, she also predicted that the clouds will lift enough to not only be able to summit the Table Mountain but that the views will be stunning too, that afternoon. Pilots know best when it comes to the weather.

Our conversation about many other things continued until we parted ways at baggage reclaim, and so, I was set for Cape Town, picked up by the pre-arranged shuttle service.

Celebrating 12 Years of Blogging

My story’s in my blogs

Twelve years ago, I was in a hotel in Berlin when I wrote my first blog as I began blogging just to express all sorts of opinions about topics that I found interesting, engaging or needing a perspective completely different from the mainstream.

Over time, I began to tell stories, mostly personal or relatable stories, I do not think I am good at writing fiction and I have rarely dabbled in that genre.

Whilst I am not as prolific as I would have wanted to be and in many ways I have been lazy at writing or even suffered writer’s block, what my blogs have become are tales of experience and life where sometimes something so ordinary and seemingly inconsequential can gain significance just because it becomes part of a story.

Maybe we can celebrate

I have found that blogs that tell personal stories have the most resonance and whilst I have watched bloggers come and go, and there have been many, I still believe everyone has a story to tell, in their own voice, in their own words to enrich our humanity.

I had hoped to celebrate this landmark anniversary leading on to my 50^th birthday in less than two weeks with getting people to contribute to my blog as I as did with the Decade Blogs of two years ago, but have been away from home and been quite preoccupied to many other things to give it much attention, it might yet happen.

However, I do ask, if you do blog and do read my blogs, please write a story, one of life and experience in commemoration of blogging and having a voice speaking loud and clear about the joy of living, the pursuit of happiness and the zest for life, because despite many other blogs I have written, I think those three themes do light up my blog.

Thank you

Thank you to everyone who have supported me through reading, commenting, added expression, given inspiration or just browsed on their way to something more engaging. I hope to do better at this thing called blogging, thank you for 12 years of stories.

My blog masthead remains the purpose of this blog, “Essential similar to what is known, compatible to what is expected and related to the unexpected …” It is a redefinition of my name ‘Akin’ and how my stories begin.

South Africa: Rest In Peace, Reeva Steenkamp

Talking Uber

I have the most interesting discussions with Uber drivers who form the basis of my regular mode of transport in Johannesburg.

Usually after the exchange of pleasantries, a question or two about where I am from, I make an observation during the journey and the deeper conversation begins.

What I find amongst the drivers, either the economy UberX or the luxury UberBlack fares are inquiring and inquisitive minds with questions and an openness to new thought and angles.

South Africa in the time I have been here, has presented flux and frenzy in the socio-economic and political world that we have a surfeit of topics to cover.

They are usually quite amazed at how much I follow South African current affairs, but that is the creature that I am, I try to keep abreast of things.

Justice many times denied

Before Oscar Pistorius appeared in court yesterday, on my way to work I was asked what my view of the situation was.

I lamented the fact that the courts had not given much succour to victims of violence citing Reeva Steenkamp and Anni Dewani as examples of where the men allegedly behind their deaths got away literally scotfree.

However, my only hope this time would be for the judges to ask themselves one question in coming to their decision. All arguments exhausted, where is the justice for Reeva Steenkamp in all this?

Yesterday, evening the answer came in a 53-minute unanimous ruling that the act of Oscar Pistorius on that fateful Valentine Day's morning constituted murder regardless of who was behind that toilet door.

Now fix this

Whilst we find ourselves referencing the Latin dictionary of legal terms that Judge Thokozile Masipa compelled us to acquire when he was sentenced to 5 years for culpable homicide it would appear her ladyship read her own annotated copy erroneously.

We have now to be schooled anew on the application of dolus eventualis to this case, that shooting four shots into an enclosed place regardless of the state of mind of the shooter can only lead to death and there is no reasoning to suggest the shooter, Oscar Pistorius did not know that death will occur after those shots.

The Supreme Court of Appeal which is the highest civil court in South Africa thereby found in favour of the National Prosecuting Authority that was dissatisfied with the ruling of Judge Masipa's court.

With Judge Masipa suitably scolded by superior legal opinion, she has been offered a second opportunity to balance the scales of justice to visit the crime of murder with a suitable punishment that hopefully takes consideration of the indisputable fact that a life was brutally extinguished at the hands of a thoughtless gun nut.

It is no doubt as Judge Eric Leach said, that this is a human tragedy of Shakespearean proportions, but the greatest justice will only be served when the sentence says, Reeva Steenkamp, we're sorry, now rest in peace.

South Africa: Rubbish!

Rubbish everywhere

As an outside observer in South Africa where every day seems to present scandal, impunity, ineptitude and corruption as headlines, nothing better exemplifies a fundamental dysfunction in this society than the sight of refuse strewn over the streets in Johannesburg City centre.

For weeks, there has been a workers’ dispute with their employers, the waste management company, Pikitup and basically, no waste or rubbish has been picked up for quite a while.

The problem is not so much that the rubbish has piled up on the pavements and at lampposts, but that to exacerbate a seriously deteriorating situation, some agents of anarchy have taken to a kind of muck-racking that involves spreading the heaps of rubbish out onto the roads in a deliberate attempt to accentuate the inconvenient sights and create a reprehensible eyesore.

Rubbished heads

Yet, all is not at ease in South Africa in what appears to be a problem with placemen in charge of various organisations who appear to have lost the confidence of both their staff and the public.

At South African Airlines, the South African Broadcasting Corporation and the South African Weather Service, people have been demanding the heads of the chiefs and none either by the hand of the government or by plain indifference in defending the indefensible is ready to leave.

In another dispute, the Passenger Rail Agency of South Africa (Prasa) wants its money back for a train deal that looks as murky as it is incredible along with their attempt to reclaim all remuneration paid to their ex-chief engineer who allegedly falsified his qualifications within the broader issue of the trains being ordered not suitable for South African train lines.

The list goes on about falsification, misrepresentation, dodgy deals, corruption, incompetence, ineptitude, lethargy, obfuscation, impunity and the comedy. Yes, the comedy most exemplified in President Jacob Zuma laughing off the seriousness of giving an account of his stewardship in parliament that it has become part of a skit on television where the idea that leaders are solving the people’s problems is met with that laughter.

Rubbishing legacies

It makes you wonder if this is the same South Africa that gave us such world respected figures as Nelson Mandela and Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

Invariably, it appears people are being promoted beyond their competence, others are unable to grow into the responsibilities they have assumed and there is a crisis of leadership that ensures disputes become the norm where no amount of arbitration is possible except where it leads to disaster until the parties exhaust themselves in the squabbles.

I watch South Africa as a land of great promise on the verge of a greater disappointment and loss of opportunity, the symptoms are deeper than anyone is ready to accept, yet, one must commend the judiciary, the public defenders and the watchdogs who seem to be the most able preservers of the democracy at play in this country, loudly seeking accountability and responsibility of those who hold power in all spheres of society.

What South Africa needs the most is great minds given the opportunity to steer this amazing country, but as long as politics, expediency and mediocre minds shown up by more competent people remain in charge, you can expect that the rubbish on the streets is only a symptom of the rubbish in the deeper recesses of the national psyche, and that is a great shame.

World AIDS Day: From a person with AIDS to just living with HIV

The result

One morning thirteen years ago on the 13^th, he walked into the clinic almost sure that the news he did not want to accept might be the truth, will be the news he will hear.

For years, he took the test but always asked that he never be informed of the result, the burdens of many enforced and reinforced beliefs militating against the workings of a rational mind until a time he could not escape the truth of what it might be.

That first result was yet tentative, like the first urine sample of a doping test is, he had to wait another week for the confirmation of what had been learnt. On the 20^th of the month, a day that seems to have gained a coincidence of significances in a lifetime, it was crunch time.

The power of hope

When his pastor asked of what might be going through his mind, he averred that he was ready for what the result might be, life had to go on from knowing the truth about the present.

The nurse holding the paper of the confirmation was distraught and literally crying, it was hard enough that he was there to receive news that they usually advice be received in the company of friends or confidant, he was alone, absorbing the news and comforting the nurse.

As he left the clinic, he was handed a pamphlet that was to identify with those who had that result, the covered the emotions of anger, despair, denial, depression, pity and much else, but it did not include the word that would have mattered the most to anyone with such a diagnosis – Hope!

Without hope, there can never have been another day, yet he put it behind him and continued life as if it mattered little. He returned to university, embarked on new journeys, made new friends, even found love, the love of a sort that was trouble and fun, crazy and really crazy, but love it was.

Daringly stupid

Years passed and he fell into the delusion of being inviolable and beyond vulnerable, yet coursing in his veins was a sentence of death, one that was coming and that which others began to see. He, however, lived in denial and his health began to deteriorate and rapidly so.

Soon, he sought succour in alternative medicine and the possibility of a miracle, he was seeking a health jackpot to spring him out of the grip of death. He became desperate and grasping, as pain took a hold that was indescribable.

Then like a slap in the face, his reality dawned and he when to see his doctor, she did not give the signs a second look, before a referral, then another referral and by the third within a week, he was in hospital a very sick man given just five weeks to live if the medicine did not take.

From PWA to PLWHIV anew

At that point, he was a Person With AIDS, his immune system so seriously compromised, it was the miracle of medicine that brought him back from the brink, the same manifestation of complications due to HIV that killed Fela Anikulapo-Kuti some 12 years before.

He recovered and recovered well to tell the tale of facing death square in the face and returning to dance in the land of the living.

Many lessons learnt:

• ·         Always go for check-ups.
• ·         Take the results of your check-ups seriously if you must go on treatment, do it as soon as it is recommended.
• ·         Own your condition, your situation and your decisions.
• ·         Medicine knows a lot more about these things, avail yourself of the science and the knowledge fully.
• ·         Never stop your medication without medical advice, you are not cured until medicine gives the final verdict – your pastor is NOT your doctor.
• ·         The medicine contains the virus and allows your immune system to recover so that you are not beaten by opportunistic infections.
• ·         There is always help for your condition, social, emotional, obviously medical and much else, despite the stigma that associates with being a Person Living With HIV.
• ·         Seek therapy at any opportunity, it works.
• ·         Things might be difficult after an HIV diagnosis, but it is not the end of life, see it as the beginning of a new life, knowing your vulnerabilities and gaining new strengths.
• ·         Your friends are closer than you think they are.

And finally, until you’re dead, you’re still living and if you are still living, you’re here to say once again – Happy World Aids Day!