Springbokkies!

So, I’m now in Namibia, back from a 3-day springbok transporting trip. Already I remember why I love this country. Although Namibia lived in Apartheid-like conditions until their independence in 1990, there’s a palpable decline in tension between the races once the border is crossed. Violent crime is uncommon here. And many people speak German! Namibia has a tiny population and vast natural areas; there can’t be many other countries on earth where every farmer you meet complains that the cheetahs got into their antelope again. I could totally live here, and people who do concur; this place gets its hooks into you and you don’t want to leave.

The arid conditions of Namibia make farming difficult, so many farmers have decided that instead of (or in addition to) domestic stock, many farmers keep game. They then offer this wildlife for trophy hunting, tourism, and live to other game farms. Voila, you have nature conservation that is actually profitable! Once sold all this wildlife has to be moved, of course, and that is my uncle’s job, so off we went to transport 108 springbok from one game farm onto 3 others, whose previous herds those darn cheetahs had eaten.

The springbok had already been “passive caught” for us, which means you build a coral out of heavy canvas and corrugated metal (called a boma) around a water hole, wait for animals to get used to it, and then shut it behind them. The springbok are chased into a narrow corridor in the boma funneling into the back of my uncle’s game truck (a massive semi with a huge metal box, divided into compartments, for holding the game) and another door is shut, trapping them. Here the fun begins, with the loading and off-loading. Naturally, the terrified antelope don’t want to get onto the truck, and once on they often don’t want to get back off. Springbok are small enough (25-40 kg) to be handled by hand, and it’s pretty exciting.

In the confined spaces, trapped by man, the animals resist to the stress in two ways. One of which is to lie down and refuse to move, in which case you have to drag or even carry them where you want them to go. The rest start jumping around like crazy as only a springbok can (wonder where they got the name?), trampling all over the “lying down” ones and scaring the crap out of rookie springbok wranglers. The trick to controlling a springbok is to grab the horns. This provides an excellent handhold with great leverage, and has the added benefit of keeping those horns out of your flesh. The springbok can then be “persuaded” to get onto the truck, off of the truck, into the designated compartment or whatever else is needed. The scary part is barring the exit; every so often a springbok will see daylight behind you and make a flying leap towards it, in which case you throw up your arms a legs and hope that a) it doesn’t get out and b) it doesn’t get you. (At least that’s what I do, the professionals are probably more technical about it.) We even had to transfer the antelope from one truck into another in near-total dark when ours broke down, but it went surprisingly well.

All of this, of course, is in between hour upon hour of driving, some of it at 20 kph before we realized the truck wasn’t going to heal itself. However, that’s all part of the business, and you can always amuse yourself by looking for game out the window. I feel like I saw more game driving through Namibia then I did at the Kruger park. We also ate lots of biltong, the world's manliest food. (Think of jerky injected with purest awesome). Next stop? Depending on how soon the truck gets fixed, I will either be catching oryx with my uncle, or going to Swakopmund to whine about how much fishing trips cost.

The Lighter Side of Race

First, some terms:

NP = National Party, the Afrikaans-dominated apartheid government
ANC = African National Congress, the Xhosa-Dominated current government
Quotas = specific percentages of black persons that must be employed at a jobsite or on a team. A sort of Affirmative Action to help black persons previously disadvantaged under Apartheid.

So now I am in the city of Pretoria where I lived as a child. Pretoria is at the centre of one of the biggest name-changing controversies in Sunny South Africa... but let me explain. After the ANC took over leadership in 1994, they decided to be offended (and not without cause) that all the cities, streets and buildings were named after Afrikaaner heroes. Much like we would balk living on Hitler avenue or Stalin street, the ANC decided to change some names. Fair enough, but of course the Afrikaans population doesn't like it much. The argument between "hero" and "opressor" becomes especially heated in Afrikaans-dominated Pretora, named after Pretorious, white hero of the battle of Blood River where the Zulu were routed. People on both sides of the name-changing controversy are bitter and determined, while the rest of us wonder how much bloody money could be saved and poured into schools and hospitals.

The ANC seems to flop between saving money, and spending it stupidly. Therefore when you drive to the airport, you can find 3 different sign-names. The Jan Smuts Airport, named after a white President who ran AGAINST the NP, was deemed offensive and changed, logically, to Johannesburg International Airport. However, this wasn't quite patriotic enough, so it was then rechanged to Oliver Tambo Airport (Tambo was ANC leader before Mandela, I think.) The more prominent road signs now have 2 sheets of tin bolted over top of the name, one covering "Jan Smuts" with "Joburg International" and a second, smaller sheet, covering that with "Oliver Tambo..." The less prominent signs remain unchanged to save money.

For lesser destinations, they barely botherd to change any signs at all... drive to "Polokwane" and you follow mostly signs saying "Pietersburg". In PE, you have 3 names to contend with when following a map: The Original Afrikaans (ie Bothalaan), the English (Botha Street) and the New English (Steve Bilko Street). The map you are following will call ti something like like "Main Road."

Name changing, of course, does nothing in and of itself. Jobs, too, are entitled to affirmative action. Blacks get priority over whites (remember that whites had been given priority since forever.) However, in Africa, nothing gets simple... At the University my great uncle works at, a job opening will always go to a qualified black over an equally qualified white, in order to meet quotas. Fair enough. Not just South African blacks though... a foreign black man, such as a highly educated Nigerian who has come to SA for greater opportunity, counts as "black" in the hiring process, thus having an advantage over South African whites, and less educated South African blacks. (One wonders how that could possibly help black South Africans.) However, once he is hired, he stops counting as "black" towards the quota. And no, I don't know why.

In sports, things get worse. Wrestling is a sport that lends itself to easy picking of a national team- national champion goes. Most countries do it like that. SA, of course, needs to be difficult.. the coaches pick the team. I was privileged to train with, and compete against, the 2 best 84 kg wrestlers in the country, one of which is the African Championship and the other placed 13th in the world. One is a white Afrikaaner, the other a black man from the DRC... since the two of them are fairly equal on the mat, great politics go into picking the national team athlete... depending on who you believe "I'm better but they try to pick him because he's black" or "I'm better but they try to pick him because his coach is on the committee"... finally they realized that there are 2 styles of wrestling in South Africa, and decided to specialize in one each.

For the truly bizarre. we turn to rugby. This story was told to me by my great-uncle, and with Pretoia's exorbitant internet rates I can't afford to check names or details, but I'm fairly sure he didn't make it up...

A white rugby player deems himself good enough to make the Springbok team, but blames animosity with the coach for not getting picked. (Rugby is a sport where quotas are a huge deal... it is the favorite sport of Afrikaaners, who argue that inferior black players are picked over superior white ones, weakening the national squad. Whether this is based on the reasonable conclusion that most black athletes don't care abour Rugby or simple racism I don't know.)

However, some supporters of our white hero did some digging into the athlete's past and unearthed some facts... his father had been a strong (white) opponent of Apartheid, and had allied himself with the black "freedom fighters". As such, our rugby player (through choice or discrimination I don't know) spent his youth playing rugby in the black townships, not with other white athletes. This man, argue his supporters, should be seen not as "white" but as "black" since, despite his skin color, he was "disadvantaged" by the previous white regime. As a black rugby player, he could then make the team under the quota.

Since the press got hold of the story that a white man wanted to be counted "Quota Black" they have had a field day. Digging into the past and financial situation of every athlete on the national squad, they speculate on who should be racially re-classified based on their past experiences. Only in Africa...

Oh, by the way, I am heading to Windhoek on Tuesday, to catch either wildlife, or sharks, or hopefully both.

Finally, congrats to the Ottawa Senators for making the Stanley Cup finals without a single close series. Congrats to Team Canada for winning another World Hockey Championship. And thanks to the lovely Kathryn, now on her way home to Canada, for making our trip together truly amazing.

Safari Time

So, we are back in Johannesburg after a 6-day Safari to the Kruger Park and surrounding area. On Sunday, Kathryn goes back home and I am probably (but not certainly) heading off to Windhoek, Namibia.


Our trip to the Kruger was a mixed sucess. On the plus side, we stayed at a jungle paradise, in rustic but comfortable conditions in which food magically appeared on the table, and messy beds became made while we safari-ed. During the day, herds of nyala frolicked in the camp, along with clothes-stealing, crap-throwing monkeys. (Kathryn says: not at us, but at the annoying other tourists. The monkeys have a sixth sense about these things.) At night there is no light pollution, making the stars shine brighter than you ever thought possible. The eerie sounds of the bush made going to the bathroom exciting, especially last night when the raspy grunts of a leopard (sounds like sawing wood) echoed through the camp, very close to the sleeping quarters. We also went on two guided bush-walks. On both, we encountered solitary bull buffalo (they tend to be grouchy). Exciting...


On the minus side, the game viewing was- well, I think the technical term is "miserable". Forget big cats; even the herbivores were few and far between. The only exception was the numerous impala, (which are presently in mating season, meaning the males scream and roar and chase each other- and the females- around.) and lots of giraffes. To blame were late April rains, dispersing the herds (no need to come to the water hole to drink) and turning the bush and grass into a thick tangle to hide just about everything. However, the gods finally got tired of my whining... on visiting an Endangered Species Breeding program on a private game reserve, we were treated to a rare sight: free roaming wild dogs, who had recently entered the reserve of their own accord, had taken affront to the captive-bred wild dogs at the centre and were running up and down the fence, jipping and jumping and trying to assert dominance. (FYI "wild dogs" doesn't refer to feral domestic dogs, but the rarest and most efficient big predator in Africa.) Seeing these highly elusive animals next to their caged counterparts was very strange and very cool.


I just got back from my most incredible treehouse adventure. It was sooooooo cool. We stayed in reall thatched bamboo treehouses, with monkeys on our roof and, as we were reminded frequently, buffalo (the most dangerous animal of the big 5) roaming our camp at night. The game viewing sucked but thankfully we had gone to another game park beforehand and had seen other cool animals then. It was definitely a once in a lifetime thing.

Today we are in jo-burg again after a very long, unshowered drive. We have all day tmrw to hang out in jo'burg and do something I assume. Not quite sure but "we will make a plan" (that is very funny to anyone who has been in africa ever). (Jens says: "we'll make a plan" is a classic Africanism, the SA version of "Hakuna Matata". It is invariably said when a) no plan has been made and b) a plan is urgently necessary, right now, but will definitely not be made until much, much later.)

All I can say is I have enjoyed this trip immensely and I am very sad about my flight back (mostly cause it will be long and suck). I will be back in edmonton on monday night.

I keep thinking that, more for my own sake then for that of any reader who might care, I should come to some sort of conclusion about my time in South Africa. There are no easy words are answers: "It was cool" is an easy way out, and quite true, but the phrase doesn't cut it for. A couple of nights ago, as I lay in bed having stared into the bush all day at nothing to the never-ending commentary of some irritating Calgarians (we just can't get away from them) all the disappointments kept flooding to mind: no cheetah, no Greco medal,a strained relationship with a former friend, car problems, destructively ungrateful students and the never-ending mind-boggling permafrustration required to get anything done.

After hearing leopards and seeing wild dogs (game viewing is clearly more important to my emotional well being than is normal or healthy) I regained a more balanced perspective. I remember working where no foreigners (and few white South Africans) ever go, falling off a waterfall and catching myself on a branch, locking and painting a school, seeing lions and elephants close enough to spit in their faces (Addo rules), making new friends, catching ocean fish, FINALLY winning a provincial chapionship and spending time with my glorious girlfriend, Kathryn, who is currently reading this over my shoulder and laughing. In fact, our entire trip together was a huge highlight except for the two game drives of suck. (I'm still cool- says Kathryn.)

So that's it then, I hope; a few loose ends have to be tied up but most of the hassles are over. Hopefully my trip to Namibia will be a big, exciting journey. The lack of time on the internet and Kathryn laughing at me prevents me from thinking of something deep, insightful, or wise. I've grown more cynical here, certainly. (Didn't think it was possible...) Hopefully, I've also grown wiser, more experienced and closer to God, I guess. (Very hard to type- Kathryn trying to braid my hair.) I'll keep you guys updated. (Kathryn denying braiding loudly.)

Bye all!

PS Kathryn will post pictures when she gets back, I am much too stupid to hang onto a USB cord and I am without it again.

Boring McUpdate

Hey all...

Unfortunately, I have no time to write anything meaningful, or to post our many glorious pictures. We enjoyed a few days in Vryheid, my parent's parent's place. We went to Ithala Game reserve where we saw shockingly little game (but did manage to follow giraffes on foot), the Blood River monument where we learned that not only did 400 odd Afrikaaners defeat thousands of Zulus, but they killed 12 Zulu commanders from 2 km away with one cannonball, the Mayfair where we went on little kiddy rides, the Vryheid hill where we walked through a herd of zebras, and a really boring Greyhound ride. Tomorrow, off to the Kruger National Park (note a pattern here) to look for the glorious trifecta of lion, leopard and cheetah... wish us luck!

Kathryn says: Happy Birthday Jens

NICE, NA?

"Na" is the South African version of "eh" and our high-as-a-kite Rastafarian guide on the short cruise we took joked that's how the costal town of Knysna got it's name. We've been having a great time, but I have writer's block again so I will let Kathryn describe it.

So I am officially sunburnt, shocking I know. It is sad that my combination of norwegian, scottish and swedish blood could not stave off the sun any longer. Though perhaps I should blame the 5 hour ocean fishing excursion where I for sure thought I would be ok if I did not put sunscreen on my legs. Anyways now I am walking around another beautiful ocean town during a wonderfully sunny day and I am covered from head to toe in order to stop the burning. I am an idiot.

During our ocean fishing we managed to catch a few fishes that we could keep, and a ton of little baby fishes. I am going to say I caught the biggest fish although Jens did catch the prettiest one (he is not so proud of that title and he would dispute that he caught the biggest one). (Jens says: I caught a massive sand shark but Kathryn won't let me count it because it's not edible.) Today we went on a cruise of the knysna ocean port it was pretty cool. There was still fog coming off of the bay so, as jens says, it was very "evocative". The shore is dotted with multi-million dollar homes and rich people swimming and kayaking. It is quite the place. Today after I drag Jens shopping (I am being so nice we are only going for an hour, and after almost two weeks we have yet to even really step into a store) (Jens: nooooooo!!!!), we are going to drive to Port Elizabeth (PE). Tomorrow we are going to go on my first game drive at Addo Elephant park. I am looking forward to finally seeing some real wild animals.

Oh yeah before I finish :GO SENS GO!!

Finally, if you want to read about our possible near-mugging, check the "comments" on my previous post with the pretty pictures.