I Went Crafty in Swaziland

Posted by 2summers on February 23, 2012
Posted in: Swaziland. Tagged: , , , , , , , . 16 comments

I’ve never been a big shopper, and my inclination to shop has dropped even lower since I left the United States. But I do enjoy one type of shopping in Africa: craft-shopping. Especially craft-shopping in Swaziland.

Beautifully back-lit penguin and owl candles, for sale at Swazi Candles.

Swaziland is a really great place to shop for crafts. Don’t get me wrong — you can get amazing crafts all over this continent. (Check out my posts on the weaving women in Lesotho and the bead guys in Joburg.) But Swaziland is special. There are several unique craft centres there, selling locally made products at exceptionally reasonable prices. Every time I go to Swaziland, I set aside time to craft-shop.

Swazi Candles is my favorite craft centre in Swaziland. I’ve managed to go there at least once on each of my four trips to the country. What I refer to as Swazi Candles is actually a mini tourist village with several shops, a cafe, and an outdoor craft market. I’m sure it has another name but I’ve always called the whole place Swazi Candles. See photos of the outdoor part of Swazi Candles in a previous 2Summers post.

Elephant and giraffe candles. These are two of the most popular animals, but they make every animal you can imagine.

The candles are all handmade in a workshop attached to the store. No two candles are exactly alike. Unfortunately there wasn’t much happening in the workshop on the day I was there because the power had been out for much of the afternoon. But you can read about the process on the Swazi Candles website.

A little turtle candle cools off in the water bucket. Do you see the giraffes peeking over the side?

If you go to Swazi Candles, be sure to check out the sale room in the back. You can find old or slightly flawed candles for 20-40% off. That’s where I do most of my shopping.

A woman weaving baskets in the back room at Swazi Candles. She actually works for Gone Rural, another Swazi craft business that I will tell you about in a minute. Note her traditional Swazi wrap with the king’s headshot on it — a very popular fashion in Swaziland.

The animal candles are adorable but too pretty to burn. I usually buy a couple of the traditionally-shaped candles to burn at home. They burn slowly and glow from the inside out. Once the middle burns to the bottom you can put tea lights inside.

I found the best Swazi candle in the back of the bargain room — blue with orange fish. I lost my receipt, but I think it cost R30 or R40 (between $4 and $5).

This is what a Swazi candle looks like once it’s been burning for a while.

There are a few other shops at Swazi Candles, the nicest of which is Rosecraft. Rosecraft sells lovely scarves and other textiles made of mohair. Most of the items for sale are out of my price range, but I enjoyed looking around.

I think these scarves sell for about R300 ($39).

While at Rosecraft, I did break down and buy a pendant necklace made of recycled newspaper and magazines, from another Swazi company called Quazi Design. It was R90 ($12). I’m a sucker for accessories.

My necklace from Quazi Design. It matches everything and can be adjusted to any length.

Just up the road from Swazi Candles is a place called House on Fire.

Inside the House on Fire.

House on Fire defies description. Like Swazi Candles, it’s an entire village. And more. It’s a performance venue, an art gallery, a festival ground, and a night club. The property also includes a restaurant, bar, coffee shop, several craft stores, and a B&B. The whole place is straight out of a fantasy novel.

The most prominent store at House on Fire is Gone Rural, which sells locally made woven crafts.

A basket made of aluminum pop-tops!

Baskets woven from grasses and fabric. This basket sells for R100 (about $13). It would sell for twice that at a shop in Joburg.

I passed on the baskets at Gone Rural, which I now regret. I’ll be back there the next time I’m in Swaziland. But I did get a nice set of colorful grass coasters for R6 (less than $1) each. (I’ll spare you a photo of the coasters.)

So concludes my craft-shopping tour of Swaziland. The shops I’ve shown you are all in one Swazi town, called Malkerns. There are many others around the country that I haven’t visited yet. I’ve heard that Ngwenya Glass, near the main border crossing with South Africa, is  particularly spectacular. Hopefully I’ll make it there on my next trip.

The best thing about these shops is that they are all World Fair Trade organizations, promoting responsible commerce and supporting hard-working people in Swaziland. Swaziland is suffering from a dire economic and political climate. The majority of Swazis live in poverty, as you know from a previous post. Shopping at places like this helps make a difference.

Also, the salespeople in Swazi craft shops are not pushy. You can browse to your heart’s content and never be bothered.

Go to Swaziland, and go crafty.

Traditional African Culture in a Modern African City

Posted by 2summers on February 20, 2012
Posted in: Johannesburg, Johannesburg Downtown, South Africa. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . 36 comments

Johannesburg is filled with contrasts, contradictions, and colliding worlds. East and west. Rags and riches. Black and white. Life and death.

The area around Diagonal Street, a busy commercial district in the Joburg city centre, is a good illustration of worlds colliding. Stand in the middle of Diagonal Street and look up, and you’ll see this:

The famous “diamond building” at 11 Diagonal Street.

Look down, or rather straight ahead, and you’ll see this:

In fancy Joburg neighborhoods, you often see signs that say “No Hawkers”. On Diagonal Street, hawkers get a discount.

This weekend I participated in a “Traditional African Culture Walk”, led by Ishvara Dhyan. Ishvara does cultural tours all over town; I went on his tour of Joburg’s Ethiopian community last year. I really enjoy Ishvara’s tours. They’re crowded, but Ishvara is exceptionally knowledgeable about Joburg’s history and culture and his quirky wit is worth fighting the crowds for. Tours are only R50 (about $7.50).

Tour guide Ishvara, reflected between creepy child mannequins modelling school uniforms.

Ishavara’s tour group crams into the back of a South African clothing shop.

The area we visited has been a major shopping mecca since Joburg’s earliest days. Some of the area’s first residents were Gujarati traders who emigrated to South Africa in the late 1800s. Descendants of those Gujarati traders are still living and doing business around Diagonal Street today.

Like most traditional shopping districts in African cities, you can buy pretty much anything on Diagonal Street. But the area is best known for its muti and African textile shops. If you don’t know what “muti” means, check out this 2Summers post about the Farraday Muti Market – it prompted a lively debate when it was first published.

One of countless muti shops in and around Diagonal Street. Like many (or perhaps most) of the shops around here, this shop is owned by a South African of Indian descent. Unfortunately the proprietor didn’t want to be photographed so I only got his empty chair.

Colorful muti powders for sale. The significance lies not in what they’re made of, but in what color they are. Different colors are used for different ceremonies or spells. 

The shops in this area are frequented by sangomas — or traditional healers — who go there to buy herbs, beads, clothing, and other materials necessary for their profession.

The most famous muti shop on Diagonal Street is called “The Museum of Man and Science”. I have no idea why it’s called that because it’s not a museum at all. The place obviously does very good business, and it seems to have a regular clientele that is not made up of tourists. Nonetheless, this shop is fascinating enough to be a museum. Everywhere you look are bones, skins, horns, dried plants, and mysterious potions and powders.

In the back of the shop, I saw a man slicing apart a dead snake. He didn’t take kindly to being photographed so I backed away and focused my camera on the front of the store.

Doing business at the counter of the Museum of Man and Science.

 We visited a huge fabric shop, selling brightly colored cloth worn by various Southern African tribes. I bought an awesome piece of neon yellow and pink cloth, which Ishvara says is traditionally worn by the Shangaan people. The cloth, which is large enough to make a long shirt or a short dress, cost R20 (about $2.50). I have a bad habit of buying ethnic cloth and then never doing anything with it. Maybe this time will be different.

None of this African cloth is made in Africa, but the way; it’s manufactured in India.

Sales ladies at the fabric shop.

Above this fabric shop, atop a winding rickety staircase, is a massive bead shop.

Beads.

The history of beads in Africa began with the arrival of Europeans hundreds of years ago. Europeans traded glass beads with African tribes in exchange for food and supplies and all kinds of other things, including (gulp) slaves. Glass beads maintain their spiritual significance in Africa today, and many of the beads are still made in Europe. Apparently the best glass beads are Czech.

The shops were cool, but as usual, the best parts of this tour were the sights and sounds on the street.

Interesting building.

A reminder of South Africa’s bad old days.

There were tons of hawkers like this guy, sitting on stools outside shops and marketing their wares in Zulu. This box contains ant-killer, roach-killer, air freshener (a necessity after using the roach-killer), tooth-whitening powder, corn-remover, and several more items that I’ve now forgotten. I wish I’d shot a close-up of the box. The blue package in the top-right corner was something like, “Dr. Sanjay’s All-Purpose Muti Treatment Cure”.

A nice man who wanted me to photograph him in his Zionist Christian Church cap. I love the “No Trading” sign behind him. Yeah, right.

I’ve said this before but I highly recommend tours like this, which allow you to visit places in Joburg where most (white) people are hesitant to visit alone. You can receive notifications on Ishvara’s tours by becoming a member of his Facebook group.

Beauty, Poverty, and Joy Under the Baking Swazi Sun

Posted by 2summers on February 16, 2012
Posted in: Swaziland. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , . 29 comments

Last week I went to Swaziland for a freelance assignment. The assignment was with Samaritan’s Purse UK, a charitable organization that does disaster relief and community development projects around the world. I went to Swaziland to take photos and write stories about the work Samaritan’s Purse is doing in a remote mountain community called Kaphunga.

This assignment meant a lot to me. I love taking pictures, I love telling stories about people doing inspiring work, and I love Swaziland. Basically this was my dream job. If I could do this kind of work every day of the year for the rest of my life, I would happily do it.

I’m still emotionally exhausted after writing my last post so I’m going to keep this one short. I really just want to show you the pictures.

I met this man moments after arriving in Kaphunga. I never got his name. He loved having his photo taken.

The proprietress of a shop in Kaphunga.

Kids outside the school house.

The most beautiful girl in Swaziland.

Samaritan’s Purse has two different projects in Kaphunga. The first, Operation Christmas Child, delivers Christmas presents (slightly belated, in this case) to children in need around the world. The second, the HOPE Swaziland Programme, empowers local churches to help solve problems facing their communities.

I arrived to find the entire village, hundreds of children and their parents, waiting in an open field to receive their gifts.

It was hot in Kaphunga. Like, Africa hot. My shoulders burned to a crisp (SPF 30 is no match for the Swazi sun) and I’m now shedding several layers of skin.

Waiting…

Waiting some more.

Finally the boxes of gifts were opened and distributed. Even once the kids got their boxes, they sat down patiently in the grass and waited for the official go-ahead to open the presents.

I think this little boy was overwhelmed at the size of his box.

Before the outdoor opening party began, I went inside the school where a smaller group of older children were receiving their gifts.

Pure joy. And he’s not even beyond the card yet.

It was unbearably hot last week in Swaziland, but in winter it will be cold. These kids will be glad to have new hats and scarves.

After the gift-opening, we went up the road to visit a family that is benefiting from the HOPE Programme.

This boy lives on a traditional Swazi homestead with his eight brothers and sisters. The children’s parents passed away several years ago and they are raising themselves. The oldest sibling is 20 and the youngest is 6.

While visiting this child-headed household, I spoke with Rev. Percival, the pastor of the local church. Rev. Percival told me that in this community alone, there are 150 orphans who he is doing his best to look after. He and the rest of his congregation are working to create income-generating projects to help the kids with school fees and with clothes, food, etc.

There are thousands of kids living this way in Swaziland. More than a quarter of Swaziland’s population is living with HIV, and most of them are living in poverty. This translates into LOTS of kids without parents. There aren’t enough adults in the country to care for them all.

At least there’s some hope.

Tekugana is 11. He’s also a member of the child-headed household. He didn’t lose that dazzling smile for the entire time I was there. He had just received his Christmas box and was thrilled to get a notebook with pencils and pens, which he was avidly writing and drawing with.

Saying goodbye to those kids was heart-wrenching. It didn’t feel right to leave them. But we didn’t have much choice.

We went from there to the home of another pastor, Pastor Joel, to learn about the bee-keeping project in the community. Pastor Joel keeps several beehives and also helps build them for other members of the community. The people looking after the hives are trained to harvest the honey and beeswax and sell it for income.

Pastor Joel did an interview with the videographers from Samaritan’s Purse.

“When the church started the beekeeping project, we started on a very small scale,” said Pastor Joel. “But already we have widows who are keeping bees. Orphan kids are keeping bees and using the money to pay for school fees and other needs.”

“The bees work so fantastically,” he said. “They are very small animals but they are doing important things in our lives.”

As I sat there listening to Pastor Joel, I felt a small body creep up from behind and crouch next to me. It was Joel’s daughter, Tenkhosi. We snuck a photo together.

I know, I know. I’m sure you’ve all had enough of my blurry self-portraits.

It was a good day, but a hard day. Just like my whole trip to Swaziland.

Kids heading home after the gift distribution.

This was supposed to be a short post. I should have known better.

Return to the Swazi Mountaintop

Posted by 2summers on February 12, 2012
Posted in: Swaziland. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . 46 comments

There was a time when I didn’t believe in fate. I used to think life was one big coincidence. Then I came to Africa and changed my tune.

Five years ago, if I had visited a psychic and she had predicted where I would be today, I would have laughed in her face and walked out without paying. The life I’m leading now is so extraordinary — so utterly impossible – that I don’t believe it could be a coincidence. There must be some reason, some explanation. There must be some plan, of which I’m not yet aware.

A month ago, I wrote a blog post called ‘Land Rover on a Swazi Mountaintop‘. The post was about a photo I took three years ago in Swaziland’s Mlilwane Wildlife Sanctuary, at the top of Nyonyane Mountain. I visited Mlilwane with Jon in June 2008, and it was a very special place for us.

Here is the photo.

That’s Jon’s Land Rover.

Three weeks ago, through a series of ‘coincidences’, I was hired to go to Swaziland in the first week of February for a freelance writing and photography job. I knew what I had to do while I was there: Go back up to Nyonyane Mountain and say a final goodbye to Jon.

Before my trip, I didn’t give much thought to how I would get up to Nyonyane Mountain. I just boarded the plane to Swaziland and figured things would work out somehow. I was right. Here’s how it happened.

After my freelance gig finished, I spent a couple of days in Swaziland with a woman named Dawn. I had never met Dawn before, but her son Stanley is an acquaintance of mine. Dawn is South African but has lived in Swaziland for most of her life. She welcomed me into her house, spoiled me with home-cooked food, attended to my every need, and drove me all around Swaziland for two days. She also offered to take me up Nyonyane Mountain. Dawn is actually an angel.

We set out for Mlilwane, which is less than half an hour from Dawn’s, at 8:30 Friday morning. Unlike the previous two days, which were sunny and blazing hot, it was cloudy and gray outside. We were meeting a friend for lunch and figured we would have plenty of time to get up and down the mountain before noon. It’s a small park and I remembered the drive up the mountain being fairly straightforward.

Actually, it was more complicated than we thought. When we arrived at the ticket office, Dawn and I stopped to help a woman traveling alone who was suffering from a terrible migraine. We got distracted and forgot to buy a map of the park. We took off into the sanctuary, thinking we’d find our way without a problem.

I didn’t intend to shoot wildlife but couldn’t resist these waterbuck.

After 40 minutes of driving around, we were no nearer to our destination. We hadn’t even found the road up the mountain. We stopped at Reilly’s Rock, a beautiful old colonial lodge inside the sanctuary, to ask for directions. The staff recommended we backtrack to the park’s main camp to get a map. Suddenly I realized how anxious and emotional I was. I burst into tears as we walked back to the car.

We found a map at the main camp. We also found two zebras manning the fuel pump.

This cheered me up a little.

Map in hand, we set off in the right direction. It was 11:30. I nearly wept for joy when we found the entrance to the mountain road.

The drive up had seemed easy in Jon’s mammoth Land Rover. In Dawn’s little Volkswagen Polo, it was harrowing. There were several points when I thought we would have to turn back. But Dawn, my guardian angel, knows how to drive on tough Swazi roads. She steered around boulders and maneuvered through deep ruts in the muddy track. My nerves jangled. Dawn stayed cool, patting my hand periodically when she sensed I might lose it.

Finally, finally, we drove through a grove of gum trees and rounded a sharp bend. The vegetation cleared and I could see we were there.  Dawn stopped the car. ‘Thank you for bringing me here,’ I sobbed. Dawn hugged me. I gathered my things, trembling, and got out to walk the rest of the way alone.

The road ended and I turned up a footpath. I couldn’t remember exactly what I was looking for but I knew I would recognize it when I saw it.

I climbed over a little rise, and there it was.

A man-made pile of rocks, called a cairn.

Three-and-a-half years ago, I climbed up to this cairn with Jon and our friend Bi. I took a video clip that day.

Sorry, I’m a terrible videographer.

And now, here I was again, on top of the world in Swaziland. There was no sun this time, and almost no wind. Just heavy clouds and ominous rumbles of thunder.

I sat down next to the cairn, pulled out my camera, and took photos.

Not as beautiful as the last time. But I’ll take it.

Nyonyane, also called Execution Rock. According to legend, Swazi warriors would march their enemies up here and make them jump to their deaths.

Surreal.

I tried to think of something to say to Jon. I closed my eyes and tried to feel his presence. To be honest, I don’t know if I did or not. I’m not very good at that kind of thing. But as I sat there, three sentences went through my head.

‘I love you.’

‘I’m a photographer.’

‘Believe.’

I didn’t know what to make of it at the time. But now it makes sense to me somehow.

I fumbled for my notebook and tore out the letter that I’d written to Jon that morning. I scribbled a couple more sentences. Then I folded up the letter and stuck it between the rocks.

Is it weird that I took a photo of myself? Whatever, it’s what I felt like doing. I’m out of focus and have a weird grimace on my face. Still, not bad under the circumstances.

After about 20 minutes, I felt ready to leave. I packed my things and brushed myself off. Then I took a deep breath and pushed the letter in between the rocks. I heard it drop into the middle of the cairn.

Before I walked down, I decided to take one more photo.

You might remember this picture from an earlier post. I brought it up with me so I could look at Jon while I sat there. I took the photo back after snapping this frame. I figured leaving the letter was enough.

Dawn was waiting for me at the base of the hill.

Dawn (hiding under a sun hat) and her trusty Volkswagen.

Dawn said a prayer before we drove off. I don’t blame her, and I’m glad she did. We made it down safely and the moment we exited Mlilwane, the heavens opened and it rained torrentially. Lightning streaked across the sky and the roads filled with water. We never would have made it down the mountain in that rain.

Coincidence? I think not.

Ice Cream and Art Deco in the African ‘Burbs

Posted by 2summers on February 5, 2012
Posted in: Johannesburg, Johannesburg Day Trips, South Africa. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . 39 comments

Yesterday I joined the Joburg Photowalkers on an architectural tour of two towns on the outskirts of Johannesburg: Benoni and Springs.

Benoni and Springs — east of Joburg in an area called ‘the East Rand’ — are to Joburg what Frederick and Manassas are to Washington D.C., or what Hackensack is to New York City. They are small towns outside of big towns — places where people tend to live out of necessity, convenience, or habit, rather than for the culture or nightlife. In America we call these towns the outer suburbs, or more simply, the ‘burbs.

Due to the influx of gold-mining money in the East Rand during the 1930s, Benoni and Springs boast an unusually large number of art-deco-style buildings. Art deco was the main focus of this tour, and the buildings we visited were beautiful and interesting. But I was just as interested in the glimpses I got of what life is like in small-town South Africa.

An ice cream salesman cycles past Benoni City Hall.

Our photowalk, which was actually a photo-drive due to the sprawling nature of the ‘burbs, began at the Benoni City Hall, a stunning art deco structure built in 1937. Architect Jeffrey Cole, who led the tour, gave a great explanation about what makes this building art deco, what materials it’s made of, what the cornices and fittings are, etc. But I know next to nothing about architecture and I didn’t bring a notebook with me on the tour. So I’ll just let you admire the pretty pictures.

City Hall.

City Hall again.

We took a stroll through the neighborhood, sweltering in the heat, to check out some other buildings in the area. Benoni’s streets remind me of streets in midwestern U.S. cities — wide, straight, and flat.

Then we got back into the car and headed to a busier section of town, parking in front of a crazy-looking church that used to be a movie theatre.

This building, which I believe was also built in the 1930s, used to be the town’s movie house. As you can see, it is now the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God. It was interesting inside but the security guard wouldn’t let us take photos.

We walked from the church to one of Benoni’s main commercial streets.

Window-shopping on what seemed to be Benoni’s version of Main Street.

Main Streets are all but dead in small-town America. Most American Main Streets are either boarded up completely, or have been taken over by quaint antique shops and restaurants. They are no longer places to do business, but rather places on which to take a stroll down memory lane.

Not so in small-town South Africa. On Main Street in Benoni, you can get your hair cut, have your clothes tailored, buy a cell phone, shop for groceries, or make  a long-distance call. It’s a different place than it was 2o years ago, but still a place to see and be seen.

Telephones for hire. The old-fashioned kind, with cords and wires!

Our most exciting stop of the day was a true Benoni landmark: the Korsman’s Ice Cream factory.

Photowalkers descend on the ice cream factory.

The ice cream people didn’t know what hit them — they couldn’t freeze the soft-serve fast enough for us. I had a cup of Bar One flavor (Bar One is a candy bar, kind of like a Milky Way) mixed with vanilla for R4.50 (about $.60).

The staff opened up the back room for photowalkers who wanted to see the freezers and ice-cream-making machines. I was too eager to stuff my face to go back there though.

The ice cream was very soft so I had to eat fast before it melted. (Photo: Jerome West)

That was the end of the Benoni portion of the tour. We climbed into our cars and motored to Springs, about 10 miles (17 kms) away.

An old-school VW motors through Springs.

The coolest art deco building in Springs is the Central Fire Station. I missed Jeffrey’s lesson about the fire station, unfortunately. But it doesn’t take an expert to figure out that this is the coolest fire station in the world.

Central Firestation.

This large coat-of-arms-like decoration hangs above the door of the fire station. I have no idea what it means, but it’s funny that the fire station is guarded by fire-breathing dragons.

Springs felt larger than Benoni, and the shopping street we walked on was a bit livelier. Also a bit more dangerous, it seems — one photowalker had his cell phone swiped. I only discovered this later, after walking blithely down the street with just one other woman, chatting to shopkeepers and pedestrians without a care in the world. I’ll be more careful next time.

Beating the heat.

Proud shopkeepers. They were less serious in real life than they look in this photo.

A smooth-talking bag salesman.

My afternoon ended with a toasted cheese sandwich in the Springs mall, which is called Palm Springs. Love it.

I’m going out of town for a few days on Tuesday and not sure if I’ll blog again before then. If you don’t hear from me this week, don’t fret. I’ll be back soon.

From the Melville Cat: The Lucky 5 Star is MINE

Posted by 2summers on February 3, 2012
Posted in: Johannesburg, South Africa. Tagged: , , , . 26 comments

Another guest post from the Melville Cat. Actually, I don’t think he can be considered a guest anymore. He is a regular 2Summers resident now. Read more from the Meville Cat here, here, and here.

♦      ♦      ♦      ♦      ♦      ♦      ♦

It’s about time.

Heather finally began to feed me this week. I was starting to think that she would never submit to my will. But I needn’t have worried. I always get my way eventually.

I am Smokey, the Melville Cat. I am the most powerful cat in the universe. OU-AH-HAHAHAHA!

I came into the Lucky 5 Star last Saturday, as I do on most afternoons. Heather went to the cupboard and poured me a bowl of food. Just like that! I looked at Heather and meowed questioningly. She explained that she ran into Ms. M on the street that day.

‘Ms. M told me you won’t let her pet you anymore, and she thinks you’re not eating enough,’ Heather said.

I blinked and looked innocent, like I didn’t know what she meant.

My most innocent kitty look.

‘So Ms. M wants me to feed you now. She wants us to be happy together. And you can come back and visit her any time you want.’

Heather put my bowl down, and I ate heartily.

Ahhh. My belly is full and now I can really relax.

I’ve been working toward this day for a year-and-a-half. First, I was just a visitor here. I spent many months befriending Heather and Joe, and they finally began to let me into their house. For a while they even fed me and let me sleep here. But when they found out I was leading a double life, they pushed me away.

When Joe went away, I came back to be with Heather. I knew she needed me. And I wanted this to be my home. I knew this was my chance.

I had to work through some issues with Heather and Ms. M. But I think we all understand each other now. The Lucky 5 Star is mine, all mine.

Heather told me that I mustn’t get too comfortable. In a few weeks, Heather says, we are ‘moving’! I don’t really understand what this means. Heather says we won’t actually leave the Lucky 5 Star. We’re moving to a different part of the commune — something called ‘the Cottage’. It will be smaller than our current house, she says, but hopefully just as nice.

I don’t want to ‘move’. But Heather says she must, and I have to go with her because another cat is coming to live here. What?! I don’t like that idea one bit. I smell trouble. Heather knows I can wreak havoc when I want to — I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.

Look deep into my eyes. I am not moving. And I’m not letting any other kitties into this house. Got it?!

Oh well. I’m not going to worry about this ‘move’ right now. I will just enjoy living with Heather in our house, with my beautiful bowl of food.

Heather said that since we are a family now, we have to take something called a ‘self-portrait’. She grabbed me off my chair yesterday and made me stand with her in front of the camera, which was sitting on something called a ‘tripod’. I thought it was a dumb idea and struggled to get away. That’s why the ‘self-portrait’ is blurry. But Heather wants to show you anyway.

You can all congratulate me now.

A Beetherfly in My Backyard

Posted by 2summers on February 1, 2012
Posted in: Johannesburg, Johannesburg Suburbs, South Africa. Tagged: , , , , , , , . 28 comments

I went onto my deck this morning and found a curious insect resting on a green plastic chair. It appeared to be part beetle, part moth, part butterfly. Let’s call him a beetherfly.

The beetherfly.

His wings were round like a beetle’s. His body was flat like a moth’s. The way he slowly flexed his wings in and out reminded me of a butterfly.

At first I thought he was preparing to fly away. But no, he was only stretching.

I took a couple of pictures and then let him alone, sitting in the chair next to him to work on my computer. I looked half an hour later and he was still there. He was no longer stationary, but moving around on the chair so I could check him out from a variety of angles.

The shape of the chair, the reflections, and the crazy color and light made for interesting photography.

I love the reflection of his legs on the plastic.

Finally, just like that, he took off. When I saw him flying I realized I’d seen him (or others of his kind) flying around the garden many times before. I’d just never seen one at rest.

Another remarkable little find in my Melville ecosystem. Anyone know what it is?

UMOJA!

Posted by 2summers on January 29, 2012
Posted in: Johannesburg, Johannesburg Suburbs, South Africa. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . 42 comments

Last weekend I was invited to attend a show called ‘Umoja: The Spirit of Togetherness‘ at Joburg’s Victory Theatre in Houghton Estate. I’d heard it was a great show and had been invited more than once before, but somehow always found an excuse to miss it.

I’ve now gone to the show on two consecutive Saturday nights. I can’t believe it took me so long. It’s one of this city’s best-kept secrets.

The concept of Umoja (which means ‘Unity’ in Swahili) is simple — a celebration of black South African music and dance over course of the country’s history. The show’s founders, veteran performers Thembi Nyandeni and Todd Twala, created Umoja as a way of empowering underprivileged kids to follow their dreams. The cast members are recruited from all over South Africa; many come from rural areas and have little or no formal training. They are gifted singers, dancers, and musicians for whom music and dance are a natural part of life.

African music begins and ends with the drum. So does Umoja.

My first time at Umoja last Saturday night was like a religious experience. When the lights came up and the Zulu tribal dancing began, I was instantly enchanted. I’ve written before about my love of African singing and dancing; Zulu dance is my favorite. I’ll show you some photos but photography doesn’t do it justice. You need to be there in person to see and feel the intensity, concentration, athleticism, and pure joy that emanates from the dancers.

Sorry for the blurriness and weird color but I think it conveys the energy. The most impressive part of male tribal Zulu dancing is the kicking, but I wasn’t about to put a camera in front of my face during the kicks. That would mean missing a few precious milliseconds.

That first Saturday, I went to see Umoja with my friend Luthuli and his family. Luthuli’s elderly father, who is originally from Zimbabwe but lives in the UK now, is currently visiting South Africa and came along to the show. He is confined to a wheelchair and has difficulty talking.

I turned to look at Luthuli’s dad partway through the show. He had tears rolling down his cheeks, and the look of happiness on his face made me burst into tears along with him.

The following Saturday I went to Umoja again. I brought Horst, my landlord, and Walter, Lucky‘s brother. And this time I brought my camera.

Stop snickering, boys. Bare-breasted dancing is a traditional part of Zulu culture.

A skin-prickling dance portraying the trance of a sangoma, or traditional healer. The dance is performed under multi-colored strobe lights.

A scene depicting music and dance in mid-20th-century Johannesburg.

As we walked to the lobby during intermission, I turned to Walter and asked what he thought. It was Walter’s first time at a theatre performance.

Walter was smiling from ear to ear. ‘I’m still shaking!’ he exclaimed.

‘And it’s not even over yet,” I said.

‘What?!’

‘The show is only half over,’ I told him.

Walter’s smile took over his entire face.

Dancing in South Africa’s mines.

South African gospel music.

The hip-hop era.

Finale.

The Umoja curtain call lasts for about ten minutes. The audience doesn’t want the show to end and neither does the cast.

The moment the show ended, the cast returned to the stage and invited the entire audience to come up and take pictures with them. Soon the stage was a joyful melee of teenagers, families, and cast members singing and dancing in small groups. I waded into the fray with Walter.

Cast members posing.

Showman.

This photo is badly composed but I love it.

I did an entire photo-shoot with Walter, taking his picture with as many cast members as possible. Here he is with the Umoja narrator. Lucky is SO jealous.

The woman in the black beanie and the Adidas jacket is Thembi Nyandeni, the show’s creator.

Even though the cast had been singing and dancing their asses off for the last two hours, they were thrilled to continue performing for us indefinitely.

Head buzzing, I finally climbed off the stage and chatted with Thembiso, who I believe is the show’s director. He thanked me for coming and asked if I’d enjoyed myself. I told him everything was fantastic.

‘Do you do this after every show?” I asked, motioning toward the still-rocking stage. I couldn’t remember it happening last week. (Before the show, I had told Luthuli — who has some influence at the Victory Theatre — that I was planning to blog about the show and asked if it might be possible to take a photo of the cast at the end. But it didn’t occur to me that this incredible display of enthusiasm had stemmed from my request.)

“No!” Thembiso said. “We did this for you.”

Priceless.

Tickets to Umoja cost between R80 and R200 and are available on Computicket. Or call the Victory Theatre at 011 728 9603. The show currently plays every Friday and Saturday. There is also a restaurant at the theatre where you can have dinner and drinks before or after the show.

Just go, please.

Our Final Assignment

Posted by 2summers on January 26, 2012
Posted in: South Africa. Tagged: , , , , , . 18 comments

Yesterday I attended a special event for the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation (EGPAF). The event celebrated the end of an eight-year project — called Project HEART — that provided HIV/AIDS prevention and treatment services in South Africa. I don’t want to go all technical on you and try to explain what Project HEART was. But if you’d like to learn more, visit this page on the EGPAF site. There’s a great video about Project HEART about halfway down the page.

The EGPAF end-of-project event. Windowless hotel conference rooms aren’t the best places for photography, but here’s one of the few photos I’m happy with.

I’ve been sitting in front of my computer for some time now, trying to formulate some coherent thoughts about what this event meant to me. I’m finding it really difficult. Let me try to break it down.

1) I worked for EGPAF for many years, and I’m passionate about HIV/AIDS issues.

2) I ‘found myself’ through my work with EGPAF. If I hadn’t stumbled into a job there (thank you, Jennifer Morgan Gray), I probably never would have come to Africa, and I never would have met Jon.

3) Even though Jon is gone from this world, yesterday was filled with reminders of him and his powerful work.

A few months ago, Jon and I attended an EGPAF community celebration in North West province. You may remember my blog post about it. Several of the photos that Jon took that day were on display at yesterday’s event.

Jon’s photos on display at the EGPAF event.

This was probably Jon’s favorite photo in the exhibition.

My favorite.

Jon and I began working together on this exhibition several months ago. I was actually coordinating the printing and mounting of the photos during the week that Jon died. (By the way, thank you to Derek and Darren at Martin Gibbs for keeping the exhibition on track when I wasn’t able to. You guys rock.)

Jon’s pictures were in the reports and brochures handed out at yesterday’s event, and in the PowerPoint slides used by the EGPAF presenters. There were EGPAF staff members there who knew Jon longer than I did. Jon shot his first assignment for EGPAF in 2004 — the same year that Project HEART began. Jon was the first photographer to put a face on EGPAF’s work in Africa.

When the event program actually began, the first thing we did was watch EGPAF’s ‘identity video’ — a short film telling the story of who Elizabeth Glaser was, how the Foundation began, and the work it does today. I’ve seen this video hundreds of times, but probably not for a year or so. I cried and cried as I watched it yesterday, for so many reasons. Today, I keep watching it over and over.

Please watch if you have five minutes to spare. It’s an incredible video, and many of the photos used in it are Jon’s.

The Time to Eliminate Pediatric AIDS is Now from EGPAF on Vimeo.

During yesterday’s event, a woman named Grace stood up to share her experiences living as an HIV-positive mother in South Africa. Thanks to EGPAF and Project HEART, Grace received the counseling and treatment she needed to give birth to an HIV-negative child. Her son, who was sitting in the front row when Grace spoke, is three years old and healthy.

I took a photo of Grace, and when I looked at it this morning I laughed inside. Jon always hated taking photos of ‘talking heads’ (i.e., people standing at podiums not doing anything interesting). When he was forced to do it, he liked to photograph the talking heads from stange angles, to make the photos more interesting. It used to drive me crazy when I worked for EGPAF, because I was always looking for head-on shots of people’s faces to use on the website.

And now I’ve gone and done the same thing, without even realizing it.

Grace tells her inspiring story. This photo makes her look like the incredibly strong woman that she is.

If you’d like a closer look, here some of my favorite photos from yesterday’s exhibition.

©Jon Hrusa/EGPAF

©Jon Hrusa/EGPAF

©Jon Hrusa/EGPAF

©Jon Hrusa/EGPAF

©Jon Hrusa/EGPAF

©Jon Hrusa/EGPAF

©Jon Hrusa/EGPAF

©Jon Hrusa/EGPAF

It’s a tragedy that Jon wasn’t with me at that event. He should have been there, fidgeting in his seat and complaining to me in an inappropriately loud whisper that he was bored and wanted a Coke.

But you know…I think maybe he really was there, somewhere, somehow. Why else did I shoot that talking head the way I did?

Wishing on the New Year

Posted by 2summers on January 24, 2012
Posted in: Johannesburg Day Trips, South Africa. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . 36 comments

January 23 was the first day of the Chinese New Year. 2012 is the Year of the Dragon.

I had never celebrated the Chinese New Year before. But it seems to be a big deal in South Africa and I’m all about new beginnings these days. So I decided to attend my first-ever Chinese New Year celebration at the Nan Hua Buddhist Temple in Bronkhorstspriut, a small town about an hour northeast of Joburg.

The Nan Hua Buddhist Temple in Bronkhorstspruit. I dare you to say that three-times-fast.

According to Wikipedia, the Nan Hua Temple is the largest Buddhist temple in Africa. I believe it — the place is huge. The land belongs to the Fo Guang Shan Buddhist Order of Taiwan. It was donated by the Bronkhorstspruit City Council in 1992 after the Bronkhorstspruit chief executive, Dr. Hennie Senekal, visited Taiwan to promote investment opportunities in Bronkhorstspruit.

The history sounds a little odd, right? Well, so is the temple.

It looks like the temple just dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of this rural South African field.

Clash of cultures.

I found this sign hilarious. During the time I was inside the temple grounds I saw nearly every one of these rules being broken, many times over. “No Photo’, ‘No Video’, ‘No Meat’, ‘No Picnicking’, and of course ‘Quiet Please’ were the most frequently broken rules. 

I arrived at about 10:30 with my friends Fiver and Stuart. We fought our way through the crowds and immediately encountered an impressive paper dragon procession.

I didn’t have time get my camera ready so I missed the head.

Unfortunately the performances ended just a few minutes after the paper dragon procession. Oops. Guess we should have arrived earlier. But there was still plenty to see.

The imposing temple square is surrounded by a covered walkway, which was lined with stalls selling all kinds of food and Chinese trinkets.

Delicious-looking Chinese chocolate-custard desserts. I really wanted to try one, but I waited too long and by the time I was ready it was too crowded to get anywhere close. I settled for soggy spring rolls.

Corn dogs and mysterious fried bits. Just like at the county fair back home.

Happy waving cats! I think these are actually Japanese, not Chinese. Whatever, I love them.

My favorite stalls were the ones selling assorted Asian-style deadly weapons — swords, daggers, throwing stars, etc. (Remember the sign that said ‘No Weapons’? I guess bringing weapons to a Buddhist temple is against the rules but selling weapons is okay.) These vendors also sold cheap aluminum baseball bats, designed specifically for whacking people over the head. This is South Africa, after all.

As the morning wore on, the crowds intensified.

South Africans really love the Chinese New Year.

After lunch, we broke free of the masses and walked barefoot into the indoor temple, which houses three massive Buddhas. We climbed the stairs to the top floor for a better view.

I initially did not intend to take photos inside the temple. The sign outside the door reiterates that there are no photos allowed. But apparently the Buddhists make an exception for Chinese New Year. There were dozens, if not hundreds, of people taking photos inside, even crowding right up to the offering tables and photographing people as they lit candles. The monks seemed to pay no attention. So I finally took out my camera and snapped a few shots.

I hope I can still attain Nirvana after posting this.

Outside the temple was a place where you could pay 20 rand ($2.50), write a wish on a ribbon, and hang the ribbon on an orange plastic tree. My wish is probably moot after I took photos inside the temple, but I figured it was worth a try anyway.

You’re actually supposed to tie your wish to a Chinese coin and then throw the coin onto the tree. But they ran out of coins. This nice lady pinned my wish to the tree instead.

Here’s what I wrote: ‘Before the end of 2012, I wish to feel truly happy again.’

I think I can do it. Looking at these happy cats will help.

The Nan Hua Temple, while a bit strange, is worth a visit. It’s an easy day trip from either Joburg or Pretoria. The temple also houses a huge seminary that offers meditation retreats. Check it out: http://www.nanhua.co.za/.

Read more about Chinese culture in Joburg here and here.