Africa part 2

So where was I?.. ah, yes. So next morning it's time to take off to Durban. For the tenth time I try to get in on the drivers side, walk around then hop in. My ph just got a new truck-- the dealership is owned by a friend of the family so they delivered it last night. The guys are very excited about this. I'm happy if it has AC & a radio-- more importantly a radio. I haven't been on a real road in about 7 days, small winding roads with students from the local villages walking to school, swerving here and there, the drivers excitement to try out his new wheels-- okay pull over I'm going to vomit. My concern is not taken seriously til I reach over & smack the driver on the arm. I manage to open the door & spew on the pavement & not in the 'Bucky'. I'm misserable, they're squeemish & I squat for a while on the side of the road alone holding my stomach. I *ralph* a few more times & I see a monkey standing near by. Hey little dude-- want this? I'm done with it. Hop back in the truck & were off. They've told me the truck is called Bucky. I tell them I once had a little bit of a thing with a guy named Bucky who could shoot some mean bow- they laugh like there is no tomorrow at his name being 'truck'.

We stop at the ph's house in Pongola to drop off some meat with his wife & two kids. I think of how awful it must be to stay home all day. The house keeper stands at the door as he & his wife exchange words in Afrikaans & his 2 (maybe 3) year old daughter clings to his leg & cries for her daddy not to go. Nice little simple house, dogs running in the yard & two screaming kids & a husband who just stops in to drop off meat-- definately glad I am not her. I go wait in the bucky.

We arrive to Durban where I've decided to do some diving with sharks. Driving down the road there are signs for "Massage & Pleasure Parlors"... they tell me prostitution is legal there. Oh.. We get to a park called 'UShaka' similar to Sea World, but litteraly on the ocean, much better food & way cooler. I bought two vuvuzuela's for a couple of the guys back home & the two I'm with did a great job of breaking them in :) They sounded them off, played swords with them, & I recieved a few playful smacks too. We had KFC & I literally heard 'The Circle of Life' playing. I almost choked on my creame soda. "You all like, actually listen to this-- omg, toooooo funny I'm listening to 'aaaaaaaa-beesueeennaaaaa' in flipping Africa." They continued eating, one commented "what, its a good song."

Okay, wet suit on, standing at the unsafe looking top of this tank where my instructions are, "Just get into here *points at plastic cage type thing*, and don't fall into the tank." Oh, okay. I ask, "Um, can you come in with me?" Man responds, "No, this is something you must experience for yourself." Okay Rafiki-- I'm flipping out, can I get a little more direction?? Guess not. I'm not the best swimmer-- what freaks me out the most at first is the water-- until I see the sharks. I kick around & my foot slips out of one of the gaps in the enclosure-- scare the days out of myself & jerk it back in. Now I'm in a floating cannon ball position in the tank. The photographer is flailing his arms at me to pose & I shake my head no. The sharks come check me out, then continue their swimming. I unpeel myself out of the death grip of my arms & try to loosen up. The tank has now been jimmied out into the middle of the tank on a pully system-- if I lean over to much to one side the top takes on water & can flip, or let in a shark. I'm done with this whole shark thing & then-- I relax. There's a little school of fish swimming by & these amazing large creatures all around me. I almost missed it-- because I wasn't willing to get over myself. I let go- shit I'm already here, if anything bad is going to happen worrying isn't going to stop it.

Africa

As much as I'd like this blog to be chronological, this trip is fresh on my mind. I'll jump back later to fill in gaps.

Through folks met in other adventures, I found myself booked for a safari for one in Kwa-Zulu Natal in the Republic of South Africa. I've done a bit of traveling, but I'd be remised if my apprehensions were hidden from you. I'd heard whispers that my ph (professional hunter, read- guide) was hunting illegally; I'd started speaking to my ex-boyfriend (stupid move..) who was not too pleased about my week in the wilderness with a handful of young, attractive, smart, witty men with the sexiest accents you have ever heard... okay, maybe his worries were not unwarranted, but they were annoying nonetheless. My mother had just found some naughty emails by her significant other & was moving back into my place, & I was pretty convinced I might lose my job for taking time off-- again; day before the trip & I'm not even packed. I decide to go to Rotary- usual Wednesday night & drink too much Cabernet-- I'll pack in the morning.

Out of rotary & I decide to stop at the grocery store for some munchies for the flight. An old lonely looking man might be following me-- the wine has made finding beef jerky at this supersized conglomerate HEB damn near impossible and he's in my isle again. He stops me to tell me I look like that girl who is about to marry the Prince. *eye roll..* I tell him I'm going to be in London on that day, so if she doesn't show up I'll be happy to step in. He asks why, the Fab Cab from earlier answers-- does most of the talking really-- & turns out the geezer used to be an attorney (gag) at the place I currently work. He asks me if a certain coworker has ever tried to um.. I'll keep it PG & say hit on me. He says some other dumb shit that brings me to & I tell him to eff off. I find my goodies, another bottle of wine & head home for some late night packing.

Layovers & delays.. highlights as follows: saw an old boyfriends best friend who told me how ***** still misses me. About a million US soldiers at Houston airport, very hot. Great sports bar convo with a gal from Chicago headed to Guadalajara to visit family & two guys from Nowhere, Canada headed to the Bahamas for a week.

London the day of the Royal Wedding. In the totally unprofessional poll I took from people I know I'd gotten about half saying don't even try to leave the airport & the other half not giving two pence about it. My friend Alex told me I absolutely had to get out & be a part of history, so I did. I took out 'pounds' at an ATM, got directions from a customs lady & hit the 'tube' (subway system). I tried putting dollars into a machine that only took cards to buy my pass & some Asian tourists helped me without speaking a word of English. Silly American.. I met a guy on the tube getting ready for his friends 'stag party'. I asked him what they were going to shoot it with. Turns out that translates to bachelor party for them. He gave me directions & his number that I misplaced (if you read this, call me!) I transferred at Piccadilly Circus & next thing I knew I was in the middle of London.

There were SSOO many people-- so many calm people.. so many sober people- I was definately not in Texas anymore. Everyone seemed to be genuinely interested in the wedding & watching the big screens. I asked a girl to take a photo of me on some walk-across bridge with the London Eye & Big Ben in the background. I saw a sign that I thought said free rum-- upon closer observation it said "free run"... I met some folks, walked by creepy street performers, & headed out in front of some important looking building where we saw the Mayor of London & other guests of the wedding leaving. Walked around for a couple of hours & headed back to the airport.

4 hours in the plane & it hasn't taken off. Great job South African Airways... This means I (& just about everyone else within earshot) have missed connecting flights in Jo-berg. Window seat, nice. Lady sitting next to me- totally awesome. Has been visiting her daughter in London & heading back home to South Africa. She calms me down during my anxiety & we share some good laughs, snores, & common frustrations over the 11 hour flight. A spunky blonde has been hired by my ph & meets me at the airport to help me switch my flight-- which I am completely capable of doing myself.. am I supposed to tip her? I'm exhausted & everyone is rude. One more flight to Durban.

Finally off the plane, I spot two matching camo-ball caps & breathe a sigh of relief. They quickly take my bags & ask "is this it?" Err.. yes, should I have more? How do they know I packed last minute & forgot things already?? So commences our 3 hour drive to the game reserve outside of Pongola.

The ocean is by our side & everything is so green. I fall asleep & wake up a lot to them speaking Afrikaans. There are about a million stars in the sky as we arrive. I can't get used to them doing everything for me.. I can carry my own bag thank you very much. Praise Jesus we've made it. Shooting a zebra tomorrow & goodnight.

Up & at em! with a cold.. dern. First stop- the shooting range to adjust to their rifles, which I will be borrowing. Later we watch two brothers stalking giraffe from atop the highest peak. We see the heard run-- and then hear the shot. One fumbles.. There are two more shots & the prize is down. We drive down to the beast & it is impressive. The shots are well placed & he is gone. We arrive before the hunters as they have run back to the lodge to fetch the wives & children. Upon their return I congratulate him & am more than ready to get my own hunt on.

200 yard shot at a zebra. My ph asks if I can hit it. I ask if he wants me to hit a white or a black stripe- he rolls his eyes & sets up the shooting sticks. The bull is resilient. We follow the blood for another 300 yards across a running stream & he sits watching us from under a tree. My ph asks if I will have a shoulder mount or skin. I say skin- he advises on a shot right behind the ear striate to the brain. Exhale & gently squeeze the trigger, & I've got my first African kill. They leave me with him as they fetch the vehicle. His size is impressive. His coat is wet from crossing the creek. Legs much shorter than a horse- his mane is a consistent 5 inches sticking strait up, color pattern alternating. Brown nose, wide face, there is not much blood and lots of ticks. I thank God for the animals he has made for us, and for ethical hunting. I know no piece of this animal will go to waste, and to kill this creature has been an honor and privilege. We take some photos, the boys winch him into the truck & we head back to camp for some drinks.

There are a bunch of old South African men getting there drink on at the main lodge at the game reserve, no one speaks good English except 'Api' who is my ph's assistant. They're playing "country music" for me on the computer & asking why we line dance instead of touching each other. One says he would like to meet "the American hillbilly rednecks" that he hears so much about. I tell him to give me a minute & I can probably get my dad on the line for them. I think of something one of my bosses told me before I left. He said, "You’re going to Africa? Why? Don’t you know those people all want to come here?" I thought about how different cultures aren't about being better or worse, it's just about what you're used to & what you're willing to learn about someone else.

Next day: my cold has gotten worse; I'm still picking ticks off of myself. I touched a really pretty flower-- that was poisonous then rubbed my face. Poor Api accidentally touched an electric fence. My cough alerted a beautiful warthog & I missed my shot. Some of the guys are becoming very obnoxious in that way that a young female traveling alone should expect.. I call up the ex & he doesn't answer-- just texts me back-- I can receive texts but cannot send them. Nightfall, we go spot lighting for porcupines.. yeap like for hogs & coyotes, but these aren't Bambi sized sonic the hedgehog little things, they are some big mothers. Drink lots of beer & head back to the lodge for one more before calling it a night &-- hello hotties.. Two tall blonde South African's just in looking for a rhino in the area. Yes I am tanked at this point, but maybe they can't tell... We all wind up tying one on & it was a good time.

Now if there is something you should know about these South Africans, it is that they sure do like their dogs. Just about every room I walked into had itself a Jack Russell terrier. I thought it was one quick little sucker that kept following me. Then I decided there must be two of them. Turns out there were about 12. Gita- which means 'Dance' in Zulu went hunting with us a couple of times & she was a good little partner. Okay, more hunting. The ph drove, me & his assistant or 'Api' for apprentice road up top in the back along with a skinner Roy & tracker Chambolari (spelling is probably wrong. His name means Happy in Zulu).

We walked, saw a common reedbuck with two females (let this be a lesson men...) He was caught up in his ladies & never heard us coming. We got up to about 130 yards & set up the shooting sticks. Hit him in his vitals-- he took two steps back, one forward, and he was down. The guys picked him up & took him to a clearing for photos. When we stopped we saw a heard of zebras with a baby giraffe looking over at us. I never knew that they grazed together. His little head barely sticking out over the tall grass was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.  All that tall dry grass means nothing to them though. It is too hard for them to eat-- they have to get down to the greens sprouting from the ground or up in those trees. Just then I took my rifle &.. Just kidding! What do you all think I am? Back to camp-- more amazing food & into my Jacuzzi bath tub to check myself for ticks.

That night by the camp fire as the boys had their cigarettes & soda & I had some rum- we started talking about names. I say how I love the name Agnes & if I ever have a daughter I would like that to be at least her middle name. Someone comments as to how that is a 'black name' in South Africa. The talk turns to race. One hottie tells the light hearted story of one of his friends coming to the states for a hunting show in Vegas. His South African friend resembles him-- tall, blonde (for my sake & the story we'll say he is also rather good looking) and his name is Tyrome. Tyrome is at the workout room in Vegas before a show & a gentleman on the treadmill next to him who happens to be black (I don't know what is proper here-- obviously not African..??) starts conversation.
"Hey brotha my name is Nick, whats up? Did you get that screen working? I saw you strugglin with it a little bit."

"Oh, yes hello, my name is Tyrome. How are you?"
"Naw brotha for real, whats your name?"

akward pause... "My name is Tyrome.."

"Aw alright alright, well where you from?"

"I'm from South Africa"

"No shit?? So you speak Zulu & shit?"

"Actually I speak Zulu quite fluently; would you like to hear some?"

Tyrome commences to speak common phrases in Zulu, they finish conversation and carry on with their respective days. The next morning Tyrome comes into the workout room and there are about twelve of Nicks friends waiting to hear Zulu. Tyrome is a little embarrassed, but speaks Zulu for his small assembly.

We all laugh & someone else chimes in about how mixing is unnatural-- wait, maybe that's Captain Morgan I'm hearing because he couldn't have possibly just said-- "If you put a black rhino & a white rhino in the same enclosure, they don't mix. They know better than humans do. They know to stick to their own." Oookay, really? Back home my best friend & I joke about how we are 'mutts'. We're half Hispanic/Mexican/ whatever you’re supposed to call it & half white. Personally I think it's awesome to have access & the history of two cultures, but apparently the sentiment isn't shared by everyone... The stars are too pretty for arguing- & I've been enough of a fighter for one day- feeling like a lover.. The collective silence tells me no one else here really agrees, and we let that one burn away into the fire.

I saw monkeys!! In trees, in Africa :) So very cool. There was lots more sightseeing, 'Happy' picked guava off a tree for me to eat. I started to peel it like a lemon & he laughed & took my arm & pushed the fruit up to my face. Got it. Yummy little things. Let me break down the language barriers going on. Roy & Happy only speak Zulu, Api speaks English & Afrikaans & our ph-- who is inside the vehicle & not really up with us most of the time speaks all three. Lovely. So there was lots of hand waiving, pointing & speaking slower-- as if it helps any of us understand another language..?? But the general vibe was good. We keep teaching each other words that we kept forgetting.


Last day on the reserve & my cold is finally completely gone. My scalp is a little dry from washing my hair every second we're back at camp to rid myself of ticks.. But nails look good, this mascara is totally working for me & I'm ready to find my blesbuck. I love the shape of this animal’s face & his thick horns. Other than my warthog I've been looking forward to this animal the most. A long hot day of looking for him & he has evaded us. There are twenty minutes to sundown & there’s a small male impala, maybe 2 & 1/2 or 3 years old 120 yards from us, to the right. We'd been sitting down in the grass watching the females out in front of us & my ph spotted him out to the right. He whispers that its not a trophy size, but he's legal & we could take him as meat management-- I'm in flipping Africa, it's an impala-- I think he is beautiful. I tell him I want it. He gets down on his knees & I squat behind him. I lay the rifle on his right shoulder. Exhale & squeeze.. He jumps-- had to have leapt at least 6 feet in the air about three times over a small hill. I am pretty convinced that I hit him, but with a leap like that, we're both doubting contact. We walk to the spot he was at when the shot went off & there lay blood and feces- stomach shot. If we have to track him far , we're SOL because sun is almost set. The four guys lead, we're following the blood trail. I'm looking down trying not to fall into a hole & I look up & they're all stopped looking at me. "What? what happened? Is there a bug on me?" They smile & I look about 6 yards in front of me in the brush is my perfect African impala. I walk up to him & look at his beautiful coat & his horns. I hug my ph & the other guys give me a man handshake & hard pat on the back. They carry him out to a clearing for a few photos. I ask Api if he's lighter than a zebra & he chuckles & says it is. Back to camp for some drinks, sleep, & packing for the morning.