It’s was a real journey, just getting from California to the Indian Ocean side of South Africa -- LAX to JFK to Dakar, Senegal, followed by an overnight in Johannesburg before finally touching down in the waterfront city of Durban, South Africa.
Situated in the heart of the KwaZulu-Natal region, Durban is a surprisingly modern city, with one of the continent’s largest container ports, a lively waterfront scene and miles of sandy coastline.
There are ample seaside eateries, the world-class Ushaka Marine World, a hip-and-happening beachside bar scene and miles of families sunbathing and playing in the surf.
We head inland to the town of Pietermaritzburg. In true British Colonial-era-fashion, we board an ancient steam train and journey through pine and Eucalyptus forests before debarking in the Zulu village of Carisbrooke.
We walk in the rain to the nearby Carisbrooke Primary School where the children eagerly await our arrival. The kids sing songs for us in a semi-decomposed-concrete-floored classroom as raindrops drum rhythmically on the rusted, corrugated tin-roof.
We leave Carisbrooke and pass through numerous small towns and villages. The countryside is dotted with government funded, one-room huts.
Mud and dung floors and tin roofs are not uncommon around here -- totally bare minimum – often with walls of wattle-and-mud or plastered mud-bricks.
We pass a mind-jarring, jumbled neighborhood of cardboard-and-tin squatter huts (each domicile not much bigger than a tool shed), and then glimpse neighboring, elegant colonial-era farmhouses and rambling modern estates reposing on the nearby hillsides.
Petrol Station Stops-
Ultra-modern, amply staffed mini-mart/petrol stations are the norm. Inside, you’ll find high-tech point-of-sale cash registers and cold cases stocked with universal pre-packaged treats (Tab and Coke are hot seller here). There’s also bound to be an adjacent Wimpy Burger chain outlet.
Watching cadres of minimally paid workers zip around the stations, checking tire pressure, wiping windscreens, and pumping gas with pride (and smiles) serve as testimonials to the perseverance of the human condition, and resilient spirits.
There’s a practical reason for the top-heavy staffing at the petrol stations, and for that matter, throughout the service industry, from hired hands on ranches, farms and plantations to the amply staffed highway maintenance crews.
The gas station window-washers might depend on tips (often as little as ten or twenty cents per transaction) to make wages. Their menial jobs are encouraged as a means of staunching the horrifically high unemployment rate.
Employers wouldn’t think of downsizing for economic efficiency, as they know it would compound the unemployment situation. Watching these minimally paid drones zip around the stations with pride, and sometimes forced smiles, serve as testimonials to the perseverance of the human condition.
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