WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T LET THE JO JO TANK HIT THE FLOOR (UNLESS OF COURSE YOUR FALLING OFF A THREE FOOT CONCRETE LEDGE AND ROLLING INTO A DRY RIVER BED)
Today has been a very successful day. Gilbert, Charles, Sipho and I have finally completed one of the houses. The Malueke house now has a set of roof gutters, down pipes and a Jo Jo tank to collect the soon to arrive summer rains. This means that Mrs Malueke and the children will have to carry a lot less water for their use. When the rains come, the tank will be continually filled, the water will be more or less clean and to put into perspective the weight each tank holds. For every time the tank fills, it will save the family the equivalent of carrying TWO THOUSAND KILOGRAMS of weight on their heads! It was such a great feeling to see it all completed and a promising sign for the future, it started to rain and the first trickles or rain water could be heard making its way into the tank.
The tanks are huge things and a real pain in the arse to manoeuvre. There not heavy, one person can lift them, providing that person has arms like Mr Tickle. I got them onto the buckie and one at a time drove them to Dumphries gate, bouncing around in the back as the buckie lurched and lunged over the bumpy dirt road. The plan then was for the four of us to lift it, keep it stable and then lower it over the eight feet high electrified boundary fence. That was the plan. The guys I work with are brilliant, however sometimes in the enthusiasm to get things done, ’more haste, less speed’ seems to go out of the window. The Jo Jo tanks when not stable on a platform and horizontal are very fragile. One of the other great things about the guys I work with is when requested to do something in particular, they do it spot on. In this case ’literally’ may be a better word to use.
The Jo Jo tank was held aloft, high enough to clear the fence without anyone getting zapped. This put the tank about eight feet high. The lads on the other side were shuffling their feet for position and before the tank being stable, the move was on. The lads were stood on a concrete walkway which has a three feet drop on either side, it ground then drops down onto a gradient of hard packed scorched earth that’s littered with rocks. It then falls slowly to a dry river bed. The call from myself and Lindsay repeatedly went out ’don’t let the Jo Jo tank hit the deck‘, ‘don’t let the Jo Jo tank fall’. It was almost a mantra. The guys shuffled, the call went out. The guys again shuffled, again the call went out. The path narrowed, to narrow for what we doing. The writing as they say, was on the wall. In big letters.
The tank wobbled and wavered, it then plunged to one side, the call went out. I just saw it drop from eight feet to past my eye level and then on towards and below my feet. Again the call went out. Asi had fallen off the ledge and was on his way to some good bruising from the hard floor. Incredibly he managed to, in mid fall, manoeuvre his falling body under the Jo Jo tank and then instead of putting his arms underneath him to break his fall, he directed them upwards and underneath the falling tank. He hit the deck, the tank closely following him. The tank hit him with a good whack on the head and then harmlessly roled to a stop shortly after. Jeez, what a save. Gordon Banks himself would have shook his Asi’s hand. I couldn’t contain my emotions……and promptly burst out laughing, Lindsay, Gilbert, Sipho and Charles did the same. What is it about people falling, other people, that makes us laugh uncontrollably? They should bottle falls like this and when were having a bad day at work, we should open the bottle and give ourselves a good cheering up. Asi fortunately wasn’t hurt and bounced up like an uncoiling spring. I had to move the car. The car was in a perfectly suitable place, I simply needed somewhere to laugh.
That evening I went round to Johans and Lindsays for a braai and some drinks whilst the rugby was on. The braai over here are something else, the meet is cooked to perfection over coals and it’s a real get together atmosphere. I also got to meet Johans brother whom was trying to explain to me ‘story’ behind South African music. Its really interesting actually and him and Johan gave me a demonstration of the ‘Stooky’. A traditional South African dance I can only liken to a fast waltz.
Another really good day.
I’ll be heading home on either Tuesday or Wednesday (not sure which yet as the flights aren’t finalised) as much as I want to get home and see people, I can’t believe how fast it has come round. I’ll be really sorry to leave, everyone in the staff village have made me feel welcome and I’ve received invites to braai’s, leaving do’s and game drives and I’ve made, what I’d happily describe as friends in the village. Sipho, Gilbert and Charles are absolutely brilliant lads and I almost want to be able to magically give them the life their searching for. Its not even that much really, work and a bit of money. It doesn’t work that way though, unfortunately. They’ve ‘bagsied’ some of my clothes and I’m happy to give them. I can easily replace them at home, not that I need to, more if I want to. Tomorrow we have one more day left of work in the village, I think I’ll treat the three of them to a beer after we’ve finished.
So tomorrow, its final Jo Jo tank day and final day.
Oh I nearly forgot to mention my stand off with the warthogs, the little buggers. I was heading into the rubbish area and a large female and two young hogs were mulling around, snaffling for food. As I reached the back of the fenced in area, they had made their way to the front and the only exit. As I started to walk towards the exit and where they were munching away, I startled the young ones. The mum immediately confronted me, her body tense and six inch teeth/tusks directed firmly at me. At first I didn’t really bother and carried on walking. She then became more agitated and more defensive, her long head bowed down and she visibly tensed up and got ready to charge me. These hogs are built like mini rhino’s and I reckon if one ran into me I’d be plastered along the floor. I waited by the skip, ready to dive into it and its shitty contents to avoid a steaming and she just stood firmly, not giving an inch. People in the yard started to watch and I felt a little embarrassed at not knowing what to do. I made a few benign jokes and nervously waited. After about fifteen minutes and either realising I wasn’t a threat or I wasn’t worth the hassle, they went back to feeding and I slipped slowly by. It was a good example of how things can turn in this environment, granted not as good an example as the rhino’s running at my car but good never the less. When I buy my metal warthog tomorrow, I might ask the guy to paint a black eye on. A symbolic victory for me.

GODS WINDOW. THE CURTAINS WERE DRAWN.

THREE DAYS OFF

For me, Blyde River Canyon can be summed up in two words, ’breathtaking and spectacular’. I had three full days to enjoy the drive, the scenery and the tranquillity of the area. I could have easily spent another week there and not got bored of the views. They are with out a doubt breathtaking and spectacular.
Months before I was due to leave England I had been checking out the Mpumalanga Province on the internet, looking for things I might like to see when I had time whilst there. I also checked out the topography of the area and satellite imagery on Google Earth. The first thing of personal interest I noticed was the proximity of where I would be staying to the Drakenburg Mountain Range, secondly was a photograph of the view from ’Gods Window’. From that moment I knew I’d be heading into ‘them there mountains’ and I’d be having my customary ‘whiskey toast’ at these places to my Mam and Grandad, both amazing people and both, sadly, no longer here.
Over the last few years it has become almost a ritual to make a toast to these two people when I find myself in places that I know will stay with me long after I’ve left them. The tipple is down to my Grandad. I used to enjoy treating him to a good bottle of whiskey, his choice was Glenmorangie, The Original. I picked a bottle (a litre bottle, oops) up at Heathrow Airport on the way out. The plan as always is to find a secluded spot, drift in my own thoughts, make a mental toast and whollop, down she goes. Always a smile inducing moment, which hopefully is down to the memories and not the whiskey.
The drive to Blyde Canyon is scenically, lovely. The route I chose was along the R535, over Kowyn’s Pass, through Graskop, around the ’Panoramic Route’ then straight North via Bourke’s Luck Pot holes to Aventura Blyde Canyon Resort, where I had a luxury chalet booked for two nights. I did actually try and book the basic chalet but they were all gone, what the hell I’ll have a luxury one, how many times will I pass this way again. Plus I’ve got sixteen months interest free on my Virgin Credit Card!
I had purposely chosen this route for the scenery I would be passing through., high passes that would allow me to first look down on sparse bushveld and later down to massive pine forests and lush vegetation, I would pass six three hundred feet high waterfalls all geologically different, ranging from whispy water drops into deep, dark pools to calcium carbonate falls which build more rock as the calcium deposits collect. I planned to stop at famous viewing spots with magical names like Worlds End, Wonder View and the most famous, Gods Window. All viewing spots that would allow me to see for tens of miles into the distance or along the deep canyon walls whilst listening to the river tumble along the distant floor, Bourke’s Pools and The pinnacle, both carved by water and grit over the centuries. All of these views I would pass along the route, all and more.
Instead I saw diddly, the weather was ‘pea soup’. As soon as I started to gain high after driving through the ironically named town of Hazyview, a dense fog blanketed everything. The driving became very nerve racking as I could only see about ten metres in front of the car on a bending climbing mountain road. The fog was more like a whiteout in that it was blinding to look into. The conditions didn’t make me nervous, I actually like adverse weather conditions, it was the other motorists. The driving in South Africa is on the whole, poor. Major accidents are caused due to the standard of driving and I was alarmed to witness people coming out of the fog at speeds that would give no chance of avoiding a collision, other cars were even overtaking me, going up hill in the whiteout, not knowing what was coming the other way. I narrowly avoided my own insurance argument when passing some numpte whom had chosen to stop on a bend, sticking out into the road . They only became visible at the last second and I had to swerve to avoid hitting them.
I eventually found Gods Window, needless to say the view was, well, viewless. It was a little disappointing not to be able to see anything but the atmosphere created by the mist gave the place a very eerie feel and the drop from the viewing platform could be felt if not seen. I stuck around for a while and drove on, slowly. The fog was very soon left behind, it only really collects around that part of the canyon due to huge amount of trees and dense foliage and the hight. It creates its own little eco climate of rain, high humidity, fog and thicker fog. The remainder of the drive was as I’d hoped, dreamed really. I visited Berlin and Lisbon falls and Bourke’s Luck Potholes. The pot holes were fascinating. Over the centuries the pouring water and collecting grit has been constantly carving the canyon out of soft rock. Where the rock is harder it erodes much slower, sometimes the hard rock literally causes a dead end to the running water. The water and grit then form a whirl pool as it has nowhere else to go and effectively starts to erode straight down as opposed to along. Eventually what’s left are deep, perfectly cylindrical holes. They are spectacular to see and the walls of the canyon and holes are dramatically coloured as the water bores its way through different layers of rock creating a striped wall.
I had my dinner in Bourke’s hole, so to speak. I ate at Jive café and chose the ‘chicken chakalaka’, how could I not. It was spot on, just what the doctor ordered. A huge folded pancake, stuffed with spicy chicken, spicy veg and something else that was spicy. Washed down with a cold castle beer, a bottle of water and a coke. It was spicy.
The drive to the resort took a lot longer than it should, mainly because my eyes were looking everywhere but at the road, the canyon stretches for miles and the sides are a multitude of different rock formations, types and colours with white water rivers gushing out of cracks in the canyon walls. I reached the Aventura Resort at about 1700 and was having a soak in the bath by 1720 with all the free nice smelling soaps bubbling away. The toiletries I’ve brought for the month are a bar of soap, tooth brush and tooth paste. I try to travel light. The chalet was luxurious, a nice size double bed (for one, booo), fully fitted kitchen, seating area and separate dining area, a big bathroom with separate shower and outside I had a car port (for my 4 litre, v6 petrol engined monster very kindly loaned to me from Johan and Lindsay) my own patio and braai (bbq) area. Equally as important the TV channels had plenty of sport on. I chilled in a deep hot bath for ages, sinking another cold castle. I then spent the night having a mooch around the resort, going for a quick walk in the canyon and then watching the kayaking on the TV. I’m definitely getting a touring kayak.
The second day was pencilled in for a day of sight seeing and the afternoon in Graskop village. On the off chance I went back via the Panoramic Route to see if there was any views to be had. The weather seemed pretty clear on the drive and I felt optimistic in getting my views in. ‘Wonder View’ and more so ’Gods Window’ do not as you might expect, over sell these special places. The views are spellbinding. It was early and quiet and I was able to enjoy the almost endless panoramas to more or less myself. Most people turned up, got their shot and got going. I found little out of the way rock shelves and just sat in contented quietness taking in the magnificent views with nothing below my dangling feet for over a kilometre. I only came this way on the off chance as I was going to drive this way on the third day on my way back home. ‘God helps those whom helps themselves’ as they say or at least He let me see out of his window for an hour for my trouble. From my spot I could look down to miles of pine and eucalyptus trees with hazy mist rising skyward from the lush vegetation. I looked up at ten thousand feet peaks, doming into the skyline and across at bizarre shapes carved into the sheer canyon walls. It was great just to sit and listen to the breeze passing through the canyon, the insects and lizards taking care of business on the floor and my own breathing, nothing else.
Graskop is a great little town with plenty of quirky little shops. I saw quite a lot of gifts made out of elephant crap. There was even a splendidly sized dung ball highly varnished, hinged and carved on the inside to make a cigar holder!! I opted for the more simple design of a dung papered calendar for one of my presents to take back home. So I’m happy to declare that some lucky monkey will soon have an office smelling of elephant shit. Your welcome.
In another shop I was witness to a rather bizarre request from an American lady. We were in an antiques shop, the clue is in the type of shop. The lady was looking at an original and very old Zulu shield. She was obviously pleased with her find however there was one problem. She approached the counter and asked ’is this the only colour you do it in?’ the reply form the lips of an obviously puzzled face was ’yes’. Unperturbed she went on to ask ’do you think you will be getting another one in soon, in a diferent colour?’ Bloody Nora woman, its an antique, did she think the man behind the counter was a well disguised time traveller and he frequently nipped back decades in time to fulfil the requests of blind minded wallies. When he explained that it was the one of only a few discovered she simply said ’its fine, I’ll leave it. It would have been nice in another colour’. I’m sure the proud Zulu warrior who fought behind this very shield would be turning in his grave to hear his magnificent shield failed to ’go with’ some Laura Ashley flowered cushion covers.
For dinner I got stuck into an oversized and filling vegetable filled pancake, spicy. That evening I sat on some rocks in the canyon, with a beer, watching a spectacular sunset over the three Roundawels. As the sun set, the rocks of the Roundawels lit up in an array of different colours as the sunrays passed along the history and layers of the sidewalls. The rocks as a whole seemed to glow red.
The next day was my final day off, I chose a leisurely drive home through pea soup fog (it transpired my choice to view Gods Window the previous day was a blessing) then down, back the way I came. I killed a little time in Hazyview, priced up my metal warthog from the guy making them on the side of the road and was back at my cabin by half three.
A great little trip.
Tomorrow the Jo Jo tanks, finally

A STING IN THE TALE

Day 12












Today the temperature topped out at a body boiling 42 degrees. I was out digging foundations and brick laying with Gilbert. Another tiring, tiring day. Gilbert makes the manual work appear easy, there have been numerous (loads actually) of times when Gilbert has finished his digging, he then looks at me with a slightly wry smile, takes my spade from me and digs my trench as well. Its quite a humbling experience working with these lads. Gilbert and I have moved on a little and we can now have a little bit of a laugh at each other, though sometimes my jokes can still get lost in translation and I get the impression that there’s not many tribal jokes about questioning a mans sexuality……or maybe he just didn’t find it funny
Today I had to work without my top on and to be fair I did deserve a bit of stick. I must say though that when I was sat down and a little kid came over and slapped my stomach and said ’fatty’ whilst laughing was just not cricket. Due to working outside I have attained a slightly, erm, irregular tan. I have a brown head (that could possibly be mistaken for bright red), brown arms but only as far as my bicep, brown legs but only as far as my thigh and the rest is best of British white. When my blue t-shirt came off, due to my tan lines it looked like I’d merely replaced it with a white one. Though my pot belly did sort of give the game away. Gilbert on the other hand is evenly coloured, slim as a rake, fit as a butchers dog and surprisingly strong. So we have a bit of a joke about our subtle differences. I don’t mind though, I even start it myself sometimes, just for the humour.
We’re still waiting for the rest of the guttering order to be delivered, its so frustrating, days and days have been lost because of it. As a result the work we are carrying out is starting to drag. Today for instance was pencilled in as a big day on the guttering. We were hoping to get one if not both of the houses fully fitted with guttering and then install the Jo Jo tanks over the next two days. Instead we’ve only managed to install a small length of guttering and then cement and wall the foundations for the tanks to sit on. One of my big personal concerns is not getting the amount of work completed that I feel justifies my stay. I’ve had some brilliant times and seen some amazing things but at the end of the day I’m here to help and I need to go home feeling I have. Hopefully the gear will be delivered in the next two days so as we can crack on. Saying that, today did get the cementing jobs done and they need a day or two to dry before to much can be done with them. Gilbert and I had a professional disagreement about how the blocks should be laid to make the base for the Jo Jo tank. The tank when full will hold in weight 2,500 kilogram’s of water, a lot of weight. On the first one we built and against my better judgement, Gilbert opted for a design where he broke the breeze blocks roughly in half to maintain a nice circular shape which was more pleasing to the eye. My point of view was that yes it did look good but I felt that breaking the breeze blocks would weaken the strength of the brick. Gilberts opinion was that the bricks would be fine. I have the final say really when it comes down to it, whether my opinion is right or wrong, Gilbert is local, so I think it always best to discuss it. In the end we did the first his way and the second mine. Hopefully none of us will be proved right (if we are though, I hope its me!).
I was finished and back at the staff village for 14.45. A good result as I was going for a drive with Johan, Carl and Sam around the controlled burn site that they did today. I could see the smoke from their fires all day. This was a small ’burn’ but it still covered a few square kilometres. The idea is to burn a controlled area of land in the safest possible way. The burning gets rid of all the dead wood and shrub that is not required to the area, then the team have to take several drives around the area extinguishing any fires that may cause a problem should the wind change. Its serious as well, ten years ago a fire ’jumped’ the fire break, raged out of control, spread for miles around and burnt a lodge to the ground. Tonight’s plan was to take a few beers with us and some steaks and cook them on the ashes whilst having a chat. Sign me up.
After the serious stuff was done, Johan had to put a couple of rogue fires out, we met up next to a burning tree. We forgot the meat but it was still great to have a chat and a few beers. It was nigh on pitch black and the only glow came from the ambers of a near by tree, the shining of the stars and the glow of the moon, a really memorable moment. I love times like these as everyone just relaxes, has a laugh and tells stories. Real lads own stuff. In fact and I’m sure Clare will be thrilled to hear this one, Carl has certainly wet my appetite for an adventure. He and a friend walked for two years from Cape Town, North through the length of Africa with a plan of reaching ‘T’gypt’. They had to call it a day only one and a half thousand K’s away (they walked 11,500) due to some reason or another. It has really got me interested in a mega self sufficient walk, maybe North Africa or somewhere around the Middle East, mmmm, we'll see.
Johan looked down and very casually said ’Ant, careful there’s a scorpion next to your foot’. he said it that carefree I didn’t even register it. He then repeated ‘move, there’s a scorpion right next to your foot’ and shone his light on it. I looked down to my sandaled feet (ideal footwear for a spot of night time fire fighting I’m sure you’ll agree) and there was the biggest, angriest looking scorpion right next to my foot. Sam did say what type it was but it went in one side and out the other, I was gulping my beer to use the bottle for the upcoming ’Jason and the Argonauts’ style fight scene. Instead the scorpion stayed very still, dead still you might say. Upon closer inspection it seemed rather flat. It was also precisely entombed in a size nine sandal print. Buy some stroke of luck, if you can call flattening an animal that, I had unwittingly stood on the poor bugger as it was walking past. The lucky bit was that I did flatten it, had I just caught part of it, it would have got stuck straight into me. Sam told me that they have a good belt to their sting and they do multiple stings in quick succession. Jesus, I’d have been leaping about like something not right in front of three rather bewildered, hardened bush men. Though it’s a shame it bit the dust, I’d have chosen that over a lifetime of embarrassment. It was a gnarly little bugger though, big fat pincers, a stocky body and a more than pain inducing looking tail. I've got these rather ace sandals that i got visiting a pal in L.A and they have a bottle opener on the sole, saying 'Reef' along it. At least the scorpion can 'Rest in Reef'. Clever eh.
Tomorrow its some more bits of outside work and then a game drive with Sam and a braai whilst we watch the cricket. England v South Africa, should be exciting.

GETTING BACK TO MY ROOTS

Day 11

September has been Arbor month, the plan was to plant as many as 400 trees throughout the month. The guests have paid and planted throughout the month and will continue to do so, in fact I’ll be accompanying a young couple who are planting two more trees on Wednesday morning. I have just met them and their from Gatley, small world as they say. Gatley is just a few miles from where I live. I’ll bet they were a bit gutted when they heard my accent, they come all this way and they still meet someone from around the corner, its always the way. They were really nice, I’m looking forward to meeting them again and going into the village.
Today’s planting was on a pretty big scale. The aim was to plant 126 fruit trees in the gardens of six Pride n Purchase sponsored houses. These six houses have been built using the donations of guests staying at Ulusaba and the labour is provided by volunteers, people from the community (generally the people whom will be housed there) and a contractor. The people whom benefit from the houses are ’priority cases’ in the village. They vary from ‘child headed houses’, one of the houses is headed by a girl aged 13!! Can you imagine? In my eyes she’s a young child herself, yet due to both her parents passing away, this young girl takes care of the family, I think there are six of them. Another house is the Makula house, Mr Malueki is extremely ill, I’m not sure what his illness is but it has rendered him a shadow of a man. I’ve already been involved with the family as I’m fitting guttering to their house and installing a Jo Jo tank, meaning they can collect rainwater into the 2500 litre tank. At present they have to walk up to three kilometres for water, the containers they fill are 25 litres so that’s 25 kilogram’s in weight that has to be carried home again. This is done on the heads of his children and his pregnant wife. Prior to PnP involvement the family lived under a piece of corrugated metal and a sheet of plastic. One of the other houses I’m not to sure about the history but one of the children would not have survived had Pride N Purpose not intervened. Prince is an absolutely beautiful little boy, he’s five years old but due to his illness, he’s the size of a three year old. Prince was born HIV positive and last year he was found by Lindsay in a small out house in a terrible condition. It is a terribly sad and it has to be said a very hard to understand story to hear but the good news is he is now a relatively healthy young lad, with a real fighters spirit (but we‘ll come to that later, the little bugger) and a great character.
Today PnP was working with Trees for Africa, another great foundation (put these into the search engine and check out what the do: Pride and Purpose, Trees for Africa and whilst your at it check out Clic Sergeant). We had had the trees delivered the day before and I was the one whom checked them in, and I thought I’d left them in a ’safe’ place. However after placing them in this position, everyone in the staff village at Ulusaba passed me and said ’Are you leaving them there? The elephant will love them’. so I had to again move 140 trees to a different location. The words ’arse’ and ’pain’ spring to mind.
We started off in Mnesi house garden, luckily it was a cool day, with even a little drizzle and there were plenty of hands to help. Most people whom lived in the houses helped but also quite a few other people from the village joined in. they wouldn’t directly benefit from the scheme so that was a real bonus and a very applaudable gesture.
The atmosphere was fantastic, people digging, the ground was bone hard and I’ll have to admit (and slightly embarrassingly) after my first six holes it was the enthusiasm and hard work of everyone else that spurred me on. It was hard graft. Other people were doing the composting and planting and the kids took up the role of watering the trees. It was dead funny though as some of the children are real nippers and their little legs were wobbling under the strain and weight of the water and when they reached a tree some of them were to small to tip the watering can. They stuck at it though. The work was always carried out with loads of chatter and laughter. When people did start to fold, Daniel, the guy from Trees For Africa roused everyone with his enthusiastic and intoxicating personality. This guy has a smile that would light a room.
When not digging, my adopted role was ’big white climbing frame’ for the children. At one point I had six children dangling off me, to be honest though, I love entertaining the kids. Anything I do seems to crack them up. One of the girls literally wouldn’t let me put her down, every time I tried she wrapped her legs around me and held on vice like.
I didn’t know until back at the staff village that Prince, the little boy found in the outhouse, was HIV positive, I’m glad I didn’t find out until after I’d played with him. I would have probably treated him differently, not in the ’stay away’ sense, a lot of the people in the village are HIV and it doesn’t bother me. However I may have felt sorry for him and I think that would have changed the dynamics of the day, I also think this would have been a huge injustice to him.
Prince is a right little bugger. He is constantly looking for mischief, even stood still it can be seen in his eyes. At one point he was terrorising me, a five year old kid was literally terrorising me. I was scared of bending down. All the kids are fascinated by me in one way or another. Normally its my hairy legs, I can be stood having a conversation, I’ll then feel umpteen hands below my knees and when I look down I’ll have half a dozen children pulling hairs or stroking my legs. When they look up at me looking down at them, they’ll burst into fits of laughter and leg it. Prince though, Prince stands his ground. My team for one tree plant was me and five children. On the first few times I bent down I received a resounding five year olds boys bash to the head. Then I learnt to dodge them and even get a few good digs in of my own. I had to do the old ‘what’s that over there’ and point to nothing behind him. As he turned round I’d get him with a little tickle on his belly, if I wasn’t fast out though, I’d get a thwack on the ear. It was at this point that the ‘battle at tree plant’ became completely and unfairly one sided. My hands were full and my guard was down. I knew I’d made a terrible mistake and I was dually punished for it. Before I could retreat I felt, what can only be described as a vice like grip, take a hold of my beard. Prince had glued his fingers to my face and in my feinted (I think feinted) screams of agony he laughed and gripped all the more. I resorted to ear pulling, a bit girlie, but hey, if it works and then I used my own advantages. I gripped him by his legs, whipped him upside down and dangled him six feet in the air. When I put him down he laughed, smacked with a watering can and went on to terrorise someone else. I firmly believe the battle was mine but as for the war, well we’ll see.
Half time was at Pmnesi’s house (one of the houses where trees were being planted), we got stuck into some peanut butter sandwiches and litres of fizzy pop. Pmnesi had been boiling a chicken in a big cast iron pot when we arrived and promptly but good naturedly took it inside out of the way. It was only Charles who was lucky enough to get a piece. I don’t know how he does it.
At the end of a very enjoyable but tiring day we had planted one hundred and forty trees, a staggering amount. There were a few trees left over and Lindsay very kindly gave the volunteers a tree each for their own garden. It may sound like a small but the smiles on their faces told a different story. One, I think a mango tree, had already started to bud, promising indeed!
The real beauty of this day was that for all the hard work that it was, the returns are almost incalculable. Every tree that survives (they work on a 10% loss due to the environment) will fruit in the next two or so years. When it does it will yield over two hundred pieces of fresh fruit, none of which will be wasted. In season the fruit will be eaten fresh and then as it ages it will be made into preserves, chutney’s or dried and ground down into a powder for storage.
The day was fantastic, well worth an aching back and some tight hamstrings. That was everyone else’s ailments, I was fine!!!!

I’d like to start with a formal apology to the public of Great Britain, Israel and to South Africa. I’d like to extend a personal apology to The Paul Kruger Memorial Committee, The Sabie Sands Board of Control, The Foreign Affairs Minister of Britain and IITB (International Israeli Tourist Board). All of whom and quite rightly emailed me to address a lack of factual information in my last Blog.
Sabie Sands alone is not in fact the size of Britain. Sabie Sands and Kruger combined are in fact the size of Great Britain. Kruger is indeed the size of Israel but Great Britain is bigger than Israel (not that size matters of course), therefore it would be geographically impossible for Britain to fit three times into Israel. However Kruger is a very, very big reserve and that is all I was trying to say. Now that’s clear!

DAY 9/10

After a great day off in Kruger (the big reserve), I have spent the last two days working in Dunphries village. The tasks Gilbert, Eric and I had on the first day was to make a new kitchen for Denali School. Incidentally, Gilbert and Eric are Charles’s brothers. You may hear that a lot over the coming weeks as Charles has six brothers and six sisters, a hell of a lot of mouths to feed under the circumstances. When the kitchen was initially mentioned, I did feel that this is where I might make my first cock up (it actually would have been the second cock up, the other day I put a full block of butter in the microwave to ‘soften’ it whilst I was making my tea. I probably needn’t even finish this but I forgot about it. When I did remember, well, I had fifteen minutes of cleaning ooze up to think why I shouldn’t do it again). Yes I was a little concerned about making the kitchen, however as everything is relative, I needn’t have worried. The outdoor kitchen was simply four posts cemented into the ground making a area of 9 square metres. It then had four horizontal posts nailed into the top of these vertical posts, making a cube and then three zinc corrugated sheets screwed to the top of the cube. An outside kitchen. As I said, everything is relative. If we received this kitchen in England we’d probably, to put it lightly, refuse to pay. Then again I’m sure your current kitchen arrangements are not sitting outside on the dirt, with two sheets of scrap corrugated metal propped up horizontally by three old oil barrels, whilst you crouch down and put a cast iron pot on an open flame, I know mine isn’t. So when the kitchen was completed, Ester, the school principal was extremely happy with the result. The extent of her thanks was very heart warming. She now had a place that people could stand up in (it was two metres high) and cook for the children. She had a new outside kitchen, relatively speaking.

The more I have the pleasure of working with the people of Dumphries village, the more respect I have developed for them. Their sense of community spirit is admirable and almost enviable for someone coming from a ’developed’ part of the world. I’m not saying that we wouldn’t re-find this spirit if we had to, I think or hope we would, however generally we don’t need to, so generally, we don’t.

Ester, Juliet, Usbie and a third teacher (can’t remember her name) all work at the Diani school. Its an infant school so the education is more of the development kind, basic English, which is so nice to listen to, maths and social activities. The English is taught by the teacher saying a word or little phrase in her shangal accent and then the children repeating it loud and clear in their own lighter tone. I catch myself just standing there listening sometimes at the melodic tones in the voices. They then sing a couple of nursery rhymes, the main one being ’if your happy and you know it clap your hands’ and have a play. When I sing it to them in the play area I have them stamping their feet, jumping and allsorts. I don’t think they understand what I’m saying, in fact I’m sure they don’t as not many do out here but they follow the actions and it makes them and me laugh. The kids also get fed, I think its mostly maize but it puts food in their bellies. The school is very well organised, the kids do as their told and teachers have their meetings. Here’s the clincher, they haven’t been paid for ’TWO YEARS’, two years, but there they are doing their teaching and looking after the kids every single day. All due to a community spirit and because it still needs doing, if they don’t do it, the community suffers. If I hadn’t been paid for two years I’d have no house, no car, no bikes (eek, its getting serious now), little clothes, little food, no travel. Would I still do my job? Nope, especially when the people not paying me are doing very well for themselves.

I was talking to Usbie and he explained that the education services say they are going to pay them, it just hasn’t been sorted out yet. When they do finally start to receive payment and their not sure when, it wont be back dated, it will be from that time onwards. I have spent a good few hours with both Usbie and more with Ester and they are both great people, Ester is I would say, inspirational, she still tries her luck though. When we went to measure up for the Jo Jo tank tap and the guttering, she asked me to dig a borehole instead, a huge undertaking and when we made the kitchen she asked if I could brick it a little. She asks it with a twinkle in her eye, when the ’no’ hits her ears, as she expects, her huge smile crosses her face and again she thanks us whole heartedly for what we are providing. She’s a lovely, warm lady and I really enjoy speaking to her.

I’ve also started to understand the saying I’ve heard on so many occasions, ‘make a plan’. It’s uttered near most all the time before a problem is solved. At first when I heard it I thought it was passed down office jingo, the type of biz we hear in meetings, not unlike ’keep me in the loop’ or ’we need to think outside the’, you know the stuff. I now realise its an analogy for ’this is all we’ve got, so lets get on with it’. Materials are hard to come by as money is tight, transport to get materials is equally as hard to come by and if you don’t have the correct stuff with you or you never had it in the first place, well you just have to ’make a plan’. It’s a really simplistic method, we (in England) over complicate everything with so many options and variants, its just the way things are. If you don’t have options, then the simplest method is generally the best.
Working manually with Gilbert I’ve witnessed this ’make a plan’ attitude on so many occasions. If we’re presented with a problem, whilst I’m there muddling through all the ‘what if’s’ and ’if not’s’ Gilbert quietly says ’no problem’, slips off and comes back normally with a valid and workable alternative. Its refreshing to see and quite humbling really. It may begin to sound like an almost romantic picture I’m painting but at the end of the day its like this because their life is hard, so this is how it has to be. An example of this is Gilbert and I talking and I asked something about things they need and he replied with a quizzical look ‘we make it’, as if to say ’what else is there to do?’ A good example is when I had finished with the wood for kitchen, therefore it was waste (to me), Gilbert asked to keep it. When I asked why, still thinking it was scrap he replied smiling ’to make a chair’. It wasn’t the first time I felt almost envious of his life. I have however seen and heard about the hardships that drive this way of thinking and for that I’m not envious.

The work Gilbert and I carried out on the school was very enjoyable. The guttering work went really well, we worked together and had a good laugh. Gilbert can really work hard, he put me to shame a bit. I brought some beers with me though so that readdressed things. Charles, Gilbert and I had a nice bit of a chill out at dinner time in the shade, supping the beers and got to know each other better. Its also very rewarding to see projects in the village that I’ve been involved in taking shape and it’s such a great feeling to know that these little projects will help the people. Probably more than I can yet comprehend.

Tomorrow is a big day. Lindsay has organised a project with ‘Trees for Africa’ and a number of people from the village. The aim is to plant one hundred and twenty six trees in the yards of six community houses. A real hands on initiative for the community get together. Should be good.

DAY 8

KRUGER NATIONAL PARK
(AND A CLOSE ENCOUNTER OF THE LION KIND)

Today I was given an unexpected day off, well yesterday I was given it, today I had it. There are a couple of places I had pencilled in for when I had days off and the Kruger Game Reserve was one of them. I’m not to sure of the history of the park but I passed through the Paul Kruger gate and took pictures of the Kruger Memorial Stones (I think ‘stones’ is definitely selling them short. There’s about six, each as big as a house and stacked naturally on top of each other. Not directly on top of course but stacked). So I reckon the history is that Mr Kruger was an extremely rich man and a very big naturist.

The reserve is one of the biggest in the world, it is in fact as big as Israel. I read that fact somewhere, I’m not actually sure how big Israel is but the comparison makes the reserve sound big. The reserve I’m in, Sabie Sands is as big as Britain and I was told that Sabie fits into Kruger more than three times. That little tit bit should help a little more.

As I only had the day I stayed in the far south of the reserve and I only covered a smidgen of that. In the morning I packed lunch and headed off. This was the first time I’d headed out of Sabie on my own and I had to keep reassuring myself that I was going in the right direction. All the roads are dirt roads for the first one and half hours and they all look the same. Everything went to plan though and I was in Kruger not long after. As my time there was limited, I had from 9am until 1800, I had already preplanned a southern loop. This had me starting at Paul Kruger gate then driving North East for about 55k to Tshokwane, South to Lower Sabie and then North East back to Skukuza and then back to the gate. A nice big loop of 100 + k.

The scale of Kruger is overwhelming, at times when the road I was following climbed a few hundred metres the view was breathtaking. From the vantage point of Mlondoza the savannah stretches to the horizon and goes almost as wide. I was lucky enough to receive a gift of a very good pair of binoculars before I came out here (thanks Anne and Tony) and they really were well used today. I spent ages checking out the view and on all that flat land there was one lone buffalo. What the hell was he up to on his own out there, talk about a target. Cool as a cucumber though he just ambled along, occasionally diving onto his back (no not hiding) cleaning or scratching himself in the sand/dirt. It was really nice to watch and quite comical, my dog does it all the time back home.......but thats in sheep shit.

The amount of animals I saw was incredible and not just singular either, herds of hippo’s wallowing in the mud and water, big fat fellas on the land but like slightly plump mermaids in the water, up to twenty elephants with babies grazing together, wildebeest walking along in long lines and a huge rhino came out of the heavy scrub and trotted right in front of the car. A big boy. I was sneakily and covertly (in a big bright blue ford pick up) approaching a giraffe to get a close up photograph when he not surprisingly heard me. He stopped and his long neck straightened clearing the trees he was snacking on. As I lifted the camera to get the shot about ten more giraffes heads slowly materialised from behind the trees. The only thing missing from the scene was the background music to Jurassic Park. Great moment.

I also did a bit of ‘off roading’ on the dirt tracks and spent a bit of time in the souvenir shops, which were really good with loads of great gifts but I’ll be getting my gifts from the people of the road side so I know the money reaches the right pockets. I then stopped off at one of the designated stopping areas and had some dinner. Two waters (I only found out later I could have had beer in the park) some cheese and ham butties, a tomato and some crisps. After this I had a little more of a drive round and headed off. I had to put my foot down a little to reach the gates as they close six sharp and they don’t let you out, or so the sign said. Because of this I had to drive straight past a group of vultures ripping into a carcus, shame.


The ride back to Ulusaba was, erm, interesting. Other than today I’ve only been out of the place once and that was with Lindsay. So seen as I nearly got lost in the daylight leaving and it was now dark, I decided to enter the reserve by a different gate, miles from the one I should have used. It wasn’t to bad really (at first) as I was following the perimeter fence and I was actually really enjoying the experience. The windows were down, it was pitch black and all I could see were the headlights bouncing around the dirt road in front of me. I was travelling really slowly due to the road conditions when I heard some noise to my right. I stopped the car, cut the lights and turned to the noise. Jesus, Wholly Mary. About fifteen feet away from me were FOUR BIG RHINO’S. Each one as big as the car. I’m not sure if like dogs they could smell fear, I’d be surprised if they missed mine but as I slowly reached for my camera, my heart pounding, when the bloody great thing started running towards the car. Shit, I dropped the camera, dropped the accelerator, dropped several heart beats and got the hell out of dodge. My heart was racing, it was a complete thrill, though a little scary. I was on my own for the first time, in the dark and I was lucky enough to see the rhino’s up close. As in, up close.

Lindsay phoned me a couple of times on the drive (I think she was a little worried about the time or maybe her car. Definitely the time, I hope) to check if I was ok and one or two game drives with guests past me. I was loving it though, it felt great. I also saw a few jackals scurrying about and then it was all quiet again. Its never actually quiet, the animals are always making noises. But they were the only noise.

I was now on a road I’m familiar with as it leads to the gate I go through to work in the village. I had the windows down again and was daydreaming listening to the night. As I looked up, the road was blocked. In front of me and walking directly towards the car was a full pride of lions. My heart was absolutely racing, I couldn’t go round them, I had to wait for them to go around me. Out of the dark and into the headlight more appeared and as the lioness’s approached the car a big male came out of the dark. He really did look the part, big, broad and with a large full mane. They looked beautiful, slowly approaching, eyes shining in the lights, just staring right into the car at me. As a lioness got level with my door I remembered the windows, quickly putting them up I suddenly felt very vulnerable. I didn’t know how they would react or what they were going to do but I certainly started to feel my reaction and I knew exactly what my body was about to do. It was a mixture of excitement, fear and, well, fear actually. In all there were five lioness’s and a lion and all next to the car, I could have (if I was a complete plonker) put my hand down and touched them. I would then have brought my blooded stump into the car and drove away, regretting the decision of course. Instead I sat there watching, heart racing.

The lions past and I drove on.

The day has been fantastic. The drive home was a complete and utter adrenaline rush. The best ever, a complete privilege.

DAY SIX AND SEVEN

(AND ON THE SABBATH, I DID BREAK THE ONLY HAMMER)

The last two days I’ve been getting stuck into the outside work at the schools. The two guys I’m working with in the village are Sipo and Charles, both great lads in their own right, both completely different.

Sipo or Seeps as we call him is twenty years old, fairly tall with a slim athletic build, which he needs as he tells me he has SIX girlfriends (one of which he trusts). No wonder he has such an athletic build! Seeps wants to be a builder and is a very enthusiastic lad. What he doesn’t have and unfortunately what he needs are academic qualifications or any papers that say he can build and unless someone is willing to sponsor him (like Pride n Purpose) he probably wont attain them. That doesn’t mean he’ll never be a builder but it does mean he’ll stay as either a labourer or get paid very little. Also he could do with catching a lucky break and just finding work. Seeps does work for Johan (Lindsay’s husband) at Ulusaba when he needs him and he’s the ’go to’ guy for Lindsay when a volunteer is around for working in the Dumphries village. He last spent six months working with Paul, a qualified builder, doing some pretty big projects Dehani school, Jeremiah creche and Amensi house (all Pride and Purpose funded and built houses) and now the lucky bugger is working with me for a month. Other than that he’s just your usual teenager with rafts of music (reggae and hip hop mostly) and he watches loads of films. His genre of choice are martial arts films. I’ve been talking loads to him about Jean Claude Van Dam and Arnold Schwarzenegger who he’s fans of. I’m not really but he struggles with my name so saying theirs is well worth the chat.

Charles, again is a super cool lad. I think Charles is about thirty but he carries a much older head. When I first met him I described him to Lindsay as an ’over see-er’ and I think though he is more talkative now I still see him in that role. On the first few occasion I met him he was sort of keeping an eye on peoples behaviour and when they said something in Afrikaans about me that was what he might consider ’disrespectful’, he suitably brought them back into line. Sometimes with just putting his finger to his lips. He’s also a quiet spoken and reserved sort of person. Charles’s role with Lindsay and therefore with me is as a driver. Dividing Dumphries village from the reserve is the perimeter fence (infact as I’m writing this I’m listening to some lions calling outside, they’ve been fairly close recently), we drive down to the fence, a guard opens a single pedestrian gate and then Charles drives us from the gate to the village, along some pretty poor roads. He has his own transport, a ’Buckie’, which is basically an small pick up. When he’s not working for Lindsay, Charles delivers water to the villages and schools. What makes this role more remarkable is Charles is fairly heavily physically disabled on his lower body. Not something he seems to dwell on, at least not in the short time I’ve known him, still he’s up and doing something and making a living for himself. Now that’s a good bloke.

Today's work was repairing swings in Denalli school, this is also where we’ll be fitting guttering and channelling it into the Jo Jo tank. The swings they have at present are old tyres seats, which are held onto the wooden frame by discarded lengths of rope. Also there is room for more swings than is currently available. The plan for today was to cut free the existing rope swings, bolt the chains around the wooden frame and then depending on the type of swing seat we'd use, connect the chain to it accordingly. We would then paint the tyres nice bright colours.

I have to say though, today was a bit of a learning curve for me. Not the work, that was pretty straight forward. The ‘man management‘, yep, I have to get a handle on that. The problem is everyone wants to make a couple of rands but the reality is only a few can be employed to help. Today I was on my own for the first time and the thinking was clearly along the lines of ’lets see what we can get out of the new boy’. A bit like when you step onto the beech with a gleaming white body and Union Jack shorts and every tout in the area comes to sell you all kinds of tat, with initial price you could buy a flat for in Chelsea. Well today I was buying the flats.

I had already drilled the holes into the tyres, the nuts, spanners ect were all on the floor ready. I had briefly explained to Sipo the way the swings were going to be made and fitted to the frame. I then went to tell the teacher what we were intending to do and to say hello. One of the guys who was there clearly saw his chance and started to ’fit’ the chains to the framework. The two problems I now had was (1) he’d want paying and (2) in his haste to get the chains on he’d neglected the aesthetics of the job. The bad news (1) there was no money for him and (2) the nuts were nylon locking ones, so once they were screwed onto the frame, they could not be unscrewed . Great.

Though the swings worked well enough when they were finished and they were painted nice and brightly, I was disappointed that they didn’t look ‘spot on’. The ends of the chains that went over the frame to be fastened back on themselves again, had lengths of chain dangling around and I think looked a little unsightly. They should have been tidy when bolted. The good news is the kids didn’t seem to mind.They had new swings, a different style of swing and the teachers were over the moon that they were held on with chains. So in that sense they were a success.

Day two went much more smoothly, though at first the same guy started to get involved and to be fair he did do some pretty heavy grafting before I had to explain he wasn’t getting paid. The ground is pretty much rock solid and he had dug a whole of about two feet deep and about a foot across. A lengthy meeting took place between Sipo, Charles and Charles's brother. The meeting was mostly in Afrikaans, with the odd 'no problem' and a shake of the head in my direction. The outcome was that Charles and Sipo would pay him a wage out of their money. I did feel a little sorry for them but it was their choice to make.

Today we had to secure a ’Jungle Jim’ climbing frame and make three swings for Jeremiah creche. They had no swings and the Jungle Jim was leaning to one side alarmingly. I don’t think it would have fallen over any time to soon but it was definitely going to fall.

Seeps and I had to dig down and then concrete the base of two three metre pine poles into the holes and then secure the other end of the poles to the frame. This worked really well and the frame was much more sound after we finished. We also put a nice big chain swing on the frame,made with an old landrover tyre. The swing was big enough for two children to swing on together. Like children anywhere though, I'm sure there will be about five or six on there. Like children anywhere, that will only end in tears! we also had to nail dawn a number of planks, re attached the ropes and secure the walk ways. Whilst i was carrying on with the work I started to sing, The kids here absolutely love this. I'm pretty sure their not judging me on vocal capabilities, least I hope their not. My singing voice is my talking voice, just louder. They were laughing their heads off so I was playing up to them. They loved it and started copying me so I starting singing (now bare with me with this one because I'm not sure what its called) 'Ba Ba Ba Ba Bamba, Ba Ba Bamba'. We sand this one for about an hour!
During the course of the day I unfortunately, though rather professionally broke the only hammer we had, it was a clean break and the head cleared two fences. I’m rather proud of that, I don’t think many people could achieve that sort of distance in such heat. We overcome the ‘minor’ set back. The whole frame was then finished off with a coat of varnish. Whilst we were trying to varnish it, the kids started to play on it. It was like fly paper on their hands, kids stuck everywhere.

Sipo had already attached two swings to a separate frame, the third was done by Charles brother (the extra hand!) and again it was crooked, he should have gone to spec savers.

Still it was an enjoyable day, the kids were really excited and the teachers very kindly provided us with some dinner. We were given a chicken piece, some rice, a dollop of tomato sauce, some pieces of onion and a spoonful of beans. It was fairly nice but I’d have to say it was more generous than it was nice and considering what some people have and have to eat, it was extremely generous and I’ll always appreciate the gesture, if not the tomato sauce. I’m definitely a brown sauce kind of bloke.

Tomorrow I’m having an unexpected day off. I’ve been very kindly given the use of Lindsay and Johans ’buckie’ and I’m heading to Kruger National Park. Should be mega.