31:40S 029:56E - Dalliance in Durban

Irene IV - World Adventure
Louis Goor
Sun 27 Nov 2022 20:12
Dalliance in Durban
(Dedicated to SY Dalliance. She sailed in the 2017/19 Oyster World Rally,
keeping her owners, Rory and Susie, and their crew safe and comfortable)

At 04:50 on Saturday, 26th November we slipped lines and departed from
Durban Marina. This will be our final leg on the mighty Indian Ocean, bound
for Cape Town. We will be availing of the auspicious Agulhas current again
in its capacity as a fast-moving magic carpet. We had originally intended
staying a little longer in Durban, exploring her sights, but weather
forecasts dictated otherwise.

Durban has treated us well. Upon arrival, last Monday, we were greeted by
personnel from the marina and from the two local yacht clubs, The Royal
Natal Yacht Club, and the Point Yacht Club. We were handed a 6 pack of beer,
2 bottles of South African wine, and a package of brochures and information
leaflets, outlining all that Durban has to offer. The welcome was warm and
genuine, and very touching. Durban, as Africa's third largest city, is often
passed over in favour of her preferred sister, Cape Town. The port of Durban
is huge and busy, reminiscent of the hubbub around Panama. Constant chatter
on the VHF radio portrayed a city that never sleeps. We suspect that our
warm welcome was an expression of gratitude for visiting their oft forgotten
city.

Once we were settled, the whole crew headed to the marina office to submit
paperwork and clear into South Africa. The trip to the Customs and
Immigration building gave us a glimpse of the South Africa we were about to
experience. Mark, the charming harbour master, piled all 6 of us into his
pick-up truck, not built for 7 passengers! We hurtled though the city
eventually arriving at the antiquated Customs and Immigration building. A
large edifice, with meandering corridors, dotted with closed doors, hiding
the goings on behind. Unsmiling guards ushered us in to a high ceilinged,
dimly lit, wood panelled waiting room, with very few staff lurking behind
glass sliding windows, pushing papers around. There was very little evidence
of any automation, even the forms we had to fill in appeared to have been
typed on an old typewriter! We had been forewarned about security. Sure
enough, the customs building was bedecked with barbed wire fences and
safeguarded by security personnel at each entrance. Mark's lilting South
African accent and friendly manner got us close to the correct door with
ease and a smile. He cautioned us to wait on the steps of the building and
call him for a lift back when we were finished.

Back in the marina office we had our fingerprints recorded to be used to
enter and exit the marina pontoons. This is a much more sensible system than
the more usual key cards. However, we did have key cards for use in the
yacht club facilities. Security was intense. Guards and police patrolled the
compound, and we were surrounded by high fences topped with rolls of barbed
wire. We were warned to stay within a small area and not to venture over the
train tracks, which run parallel to the marina fence, and to use a taxi or
Uber to get anywhere outside this area. Getting from the boat to the loo
involved walking to the dock gate, placing a thumb on the laser fingerprint
recognition port, to open the gate, then walking to the next gate, which had
to be opened by one of the 24-hour guards, then to the yacht club door,
where a key card was needed and finally to the bathroom door, which required
the same key card again. If you forgot the key card, the whole process had
to be reversed and then recommenced. Security appears to be a good business
to be in around here!

South Africa is a land of contradictions. On our way up to the Drakensberg
mountains, we experienced an infrastructure, akin to that of the autobahns
of Germany. Wide, smooth, clearly marked roads weave all over country,
making travel a pleasure. Large trucks, minivans, and well-kept passenger
cars share the road, all moving at a fast clip. The city of Durban is
dominated by a Sydney Opera House style stadium built in 2010 when Durban
hosted the Soccer World Cup. The revamp of the city has given her a seafront
board walk, with shopping and restaurants to rival the best that the
developed world can offer. In addition, there is a greater sense of security
along the "Golden Mile", with none of the barbed wire prevalent elsewhere.
We wandered in a large group one evening enjoying impromptu dancing and
colourful African life unfolding. Colour and over the top fashion and
coiffures seem to be the order of the day, making people watching an
engaging activity. All this development and commerce sits beside a shanty
town on the outskirts of the city and prolific villages unfolding in acre
after acre as one leaves the city for more bucolic charms. The villages are
all surrounded by high wire barricades and the ubiquitous coils of barbed
wire. Is this a safety measure to safeguard the interior or the exterior?
Possibly left over from the apartheid era, the fences contained the
indigenous peoples and helped keep control.

We have been trying to get our tongues around Zulu words and names. Our
waiter on the first morning at the complimentary breakfast hosted by the
Point Yacht Club, was called Sbososi and the gate guard Nkursi, with a
tongue click before the "n", were the first tongue twisters to overcome.
Zulu people often choose an English name too, to overcome these
pronunciation hurdles. Happiness was one of our walking guides in the
Drakensbergs, the other Samson. Joleen was the effusive receptionist in the
Point Yacht Club who never tired of our constant enquiries. Likewise, the
marina office staff, Mark, our gleeful harbour master (a white South
African), Shereen and her daughter Tracy, (both of Indian descent) were
endlessly patient with our questions and requests.

We made a snap decision to join Seabird on an overnight excursion to the
Drakensburg Mountains. We all booked into the Cathedral Peak Hotel, a
privately owned hotel, run by the third generation of hoteliers in the van
de Riet family. The hotel has nurtured a feeling of a private party in the
van de Riet family home, so welcoming and warm are the staff and comfortable
and casual are the furnishings. The hotel was founded during the Christmas
season of 1939 and still hosts a rollicking carol singing party each
Christmas, adding further homeliness to the hotel feel. All meals are
included in the price of the room and delivered buffet style at each of the
three meals of the day, which allows for chit chat with other guests as one
lines up for an omelette at breakfast or a stir fry at supper.

The hotel staff are effusive in their praise of the generosity of the family
to their staff, offering them inclusive meals, housing and a good salary. We
befriended our first hiking guide, Happiness, and peppered her with
questions about Zulu village life. As a result of this friendship, we have
donated some lightly used clothing, plus our remaining Sea Mercy reading
glasses and solar lights. We feel confident that she will give to the
neediest in her village community.

Zulu villages all along the way to Winterton on the N3 motorway, had similar
characteristics. Each family compound had a series of small dwelling
buildings, most of a rectangular concrete construction, with one small round
building, with a thatched peaked or glossy corrugated iron roof all
surrounded by fences or walls covered with the classic barbed wire. The
dwellings were mostly plastered with a ruddy facing from the rich red
oxidized iron soil. There was plenty of evidence of animal husbandry, with
plentiful goats and cows. Happiness explained that when a daughter got
married, the groom's father had to pay for her in cows. A virgin fetched the
highest price, the going rate being 11 cows, a non-virgin, 9 cows and a
second marriage, 4 cows. With goats it is hard to grow anything as they eat
it all, so the collections of houses have very few trees or cultivated
vegetables, making for very stark and exposed living conditions.

Two hours into our journey, we turned left at Winterton, a bustling country
town, we left the main road and turned up towards the heady mountain range.
We passed a vineyard along the way, which seems to be flourishing. As the
drama of the peaks unfolded, we felt privileged to experience these iconic
mountains. The uKhahlamba Drakensberg Park (its Zulu name) gained national
heritage status in 2000 and has become part of the Royal Natal National
Park. Drakensberg means dragon and the Zulu name means battlement of spears.
The spikey outcrops and jagged outline, give fodder to the imagination in an
otherworldly, awe-inspiring landscape. The Drakensberg range is one of the
best hiking destinations in Africa, so we donned our hiking boots, filled
our water bottles, and headed out in search of waterfalls and glorious
vistas, right away. We were not disappointed. The experience is a series of
wows, as the towering 3000m crests reveal their beauty all around us.
Baboons, antelope, and leopards call this region home, scat of all three is
smattered along the trail. Jonny and Lucy from Seabird had two baboon
spectators while they played tennis.

Our bus driver picked us up next afternoon, 24th November, to ferry us back
to the boat, where Giles had kept an eye on both boats during our sojourn.
He, in turn, had a little respite from the hustle of six people on board.
Giles turned 24 today, so we booked a table at a great restaurant on the
dock beside the boat. A great night was had, and we were well nourished.

On the way down from the mountains, after a glorious overnight stay in the
'forget the outside world' surroundings, we stopped in Winterton to pay the
bus driver's bill. Credit cards were not accepted, so a bank transfer or
cash was necessary. There seems to be an inherent distrust of credit cards
in this country, so we are often stuck withdrawing bundles of cash from
ATMS. Geoffrey, our driver, brought us to the edge of town, to the fenced
compound where the bus company, Champagne Bus Services, had its less than
auspicious headquarters. The manager, dressed in filthy clothing, gave us a
bill which was twice what we were expecting. He informed us that cash was
all he would accept. Finding 15,000 rand in various pockets and wallets was
not a possibility, so we headed back to the town's bank of ATM's. These were
housed in 3 sawn off shipping containers, plonked in the middle of a dusty
parking lot. We lined up to withdraw cash. Only one machine actually worked.
All 9 of us needed to participate in the exercise as the allowable
withdrawal amount was so small. With wads of cash under our arms, like some
shady drug dealers, we returned to the bus to count out 15,000 rand to hand
over to the worst dresser in town. Michael counted and recounted and handed
over the currency. Eventually we continued on our way back to the Durban
Marina.

It appears that a work force is not hard to find. The hotel had a profusion
of staff, ready to clear your plate or refill your glass milliseconds after
your last mouthful or sip. The marina is swarming with guards, cleaners, and
office staff. One man has the never-ending job of scooping rubbish out of
the water around the boats. A worthy endeavour, which makes our stay more
pleasurable.

The fabulous road infrastructure, smacks of 1st world, on the one hand, the
rubbish collection and recycling fit assuredly into the developing world
bucket on the other hand. We have not found any evidence at all of any
recycling program.