Saturday again

Actually MT  – maybe I didn’t explain well, and yes, afghan was the word I was looking for – the spaniel is apparently a true type but I forget which kind they told me.  Everyone here seems to have several dogs and it takes me a while to remember their names and types.

One of the dogs here is a supposedly impossible cross between a German Shepherd and a Jack Russell.  Oddest looking dog, but fast, funny and a little bit on the crazy side.  Likes to jump in the air and grab tree branches in his teeth and swing from them, growling, and trying to rip them off.  The Jack Russell is the one who likes to come and sit on my lap in the mornings when I am on the porch reading.

The dogs have all been very well trained though and do not come into your cabin even if the door is open.

At Daktari they had 4 and one was a Boerbull, which was a new type for me.

Here they have 5, 4 of whose names begin with M, and then there’s Roxie.

I’ve never really been interested much in sports, and of course you can’t avoid it here.  Springbok colours are everywhere right now and the most freguently heard question on the streets is “Did you hear how we did today?”  I do however, love the ‘haka’ that the NZ team performs before their games and actually got to see it this year.

It was also very cold and windy here last night and my little cabin has a gap under the door that a good sized dog could shimmy through and typically (non)fitting SA windows, so the breeze in here last night was so strong that at times my blanket was flapping where it hung over the side of the bed!  And no spare blanket either.  There is no place to put such a thing in this tiny cabin!  So I went to bed in my hiking socks, long pants, T-shirt and fleece jacket.  I don’t sleep too well that way so am up early and will get my skirt and top out of the suitcase that’s still in the car and hang it and hope the wrinkles shake out.

I am to go to Party’s house for lunch (I did.  It’s evening now).  All his male relatives came and his wife, named Cinderella, if you can imagine (nicknamed Sexy Cindi), started in with snacks and cooked a whale of a lunch for us.  Party, Cindi and their boys enjoyed the videos I showed them of the porcupine, genet, ostrich and bush baby.  They told me that bush baby used to be considered a delicacy in this area, but not enough left to make a decent meal any more.


They also gave me more information on the Tsonga/Zulu business.  If you read the histories, this is supposed to be a Tsonga area, but now everyone calls it a Zulu area and everyone speaks Zulu.  But there seems to be a resurgence of Tsonga pride going on and they will tell anyone who will understand that they are not Zulu.  The Zulu they speak is a different dialect than the Zulu spoken by the ‘true’ Zulu(s?).  They were cut off from the rest of the Tsonga people when the borders were drawn between SA and Moz, and after some generations, now the Tsonga in Moz tell them they aren’t really Tsonga, and the Zulu here tell them they aren’t Zulu. They’re getting mad about the whole thing.  What a bunch of problems the Europeans caused by arbitrarily drawing borders without taking existing tribal lands  into consideration.

I really want to see more countries, but it’s not going so well.  I was hoping to get to Moz this time, but each attempt has been thwarted as it was last time.  Botswana would be a dream com true, as would Madagascar.  Malagasy music is so varied and incredible I’d so love to hear some in its home and see some of the lemurs and butterflies before they’re wiped off the face of the earth by the forestry and mining companies.  I may just try and scoot across to Madagascar instead of doing the east coast here.  It’s the Oct (1 – 10) school break so things here will be booked up and busy.  I’ve got a couple days to mull it over, so we’ll see.

Had actually decided I would visit the shebeen tonight with one of the staff here, but it went all night last night until about 10 this morning, and started again mid-afternoon.  The music is louder and the road coming in had many drunken folks on it, so I decided that the party had gotten way ahead of me – and way ahead of where I ever wanted to be, so here I am.  But I can pack for tomorrow, so no real loss.

Stafford, the owner, and Harry, his helper, are going to drive me to the main road tomorrow.  It was so kind of them to offer, but I suspect they were just anticipating the inevitable.  If I get stuck again they’ll just have to come and push/pull/dig me out anyway.  Pisses me off that I can’t drive this when others can.  Though Party got stuck going out today, on his way home – and he had a bakkie –  so I don’t feel as bad as I did.  Around here, Pride goeth before digging your own ruts!

My fat little froggie was back on my porch when I came home from dinner, and he ran under the doorstep when I opened the door, so I guess that’s where he lives.  He’s a cutie, but not as cute as Gorgeous George.

The rain brought out the centipedes and they are everywhere.  Considering how little I like them, I think maybe I’ll put the sheet over my head when I sleep tonight!  And the cicadas are starting to come out too, and just the two near my cabin made more noise than your average rock band.  I couldn’t believe the racket was actually cicadas, but apparently they’re huge.  and they seem to go to sleep shortly after sundown, which is thoughtful of them.

Time to sleep.



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