Day 3: Saturday 30 June

We woke up at 6.30--this is middle of the night for me. Breakfast of mince, fried potatoes, bacon and beans and talked about Bob Dylan and Dick Farina--Romie is reading Positively 4th Street.

On the Road

Then through the Drackensberg mountains, the grass glowing burnt red-gold in the morning sun. A handful of brown-coloured sheep grazing on the side of the road were the only ones we spotted during the trip. Overhead crows with a white underbelly circled.

A large billboard invited us to the kingdom of the Zulu. This is Kwazulu-Natal province. As we progressed, the colour of the rolling landscape was turning to golden yellow. The higher areas sometimes resembled Connemara in the sun. On the stereo Lucinda Williams was singing about "concrete and berbed woire". There has been an outbreak of cholera here for some months--over 100,000 cases, but I don't think many (or any) have been fatal.

This area was the scene of several battles in the Zulu Wars and the Anglo-Boer War, and there are several battlefield trails that can be followed. At Isandlwana a monument marks the scene of one of the British Army’s greatest humiliations. On 23rd January 1879, 1,271 lives were lost to Zulu spears in a surprise attack. The following day, at Rorke’s Drift, 13 Victoria Crosses were earned as around 100 British soldiers desperately defended themselves against concerted attacks by 4,500 Zulus. Strangely enough, one often hears of Rorke’s Drift, but relatively seldom, if ever, of Isandlwana.

I was particularly interested in the history of this period as some family members had taken part--as the fellah said, the interesting thing about the past is that you never know what will happen there. As we approached the city we drove to Lookout point. Aloes and eucalyptus trees lined the road, from where you can get a good view of the city.

Ladysmith

Ladysmith became famous, along with Mafeking, for its siege during the Anglo-Boer war, in which my maternal grandfather took part (in the Dublin Fusiliers). For a description of the siege of Ladysmith, see here.

We went looking for the Siege Museum, which wasn't difficult to find as it's situated in the town centre. Field guns dating back to Anglo-Boer War times surrounded the Museum.

The well-laid out Siege Museum contained a great collection of mementoes from the siege.

We then browsed some shops. In an antiques shop the white woman behind the counter was conversing in Zulu with a black delivery man--not unusual, apparently, in this part of SA. We had coffee in Spur, a tex-mex outlet incongruously decorated with American Indian motifs, where we watched some of the Lions Rugby game taking place in Australia.

Then stopped by the Soofi Mosque, reputedly the finest in this part of the world.

As we drove south through the blazing sun the grass vegetation stretching into the distance turned an ever lighter shade of yellow. Low hedges with red berries lined the road, interspersed with bougainvilla and the ever-present red-hot pokers.

The radio announced that the Zulu king, Goodwill Zwelithini, was today leading a traditional Zulu hunt, 'inqina', revived after a hundred years to encourage tourism.

Colenso

We stopped off at Colenso, which was the scene of the first of several British failures in the attempt to relieve the besieged city of Ladysmith. It is a small town at the Tughela river and was the scene of an engagement of the Dublin Fusiliers. Hundreds of them were massacred as they were (foolishly) ordered to take Boer positions on the opposite bank of the river. I was told though that the battle scene at Colenso today doesn't look anything like it did in 1899; now it's covered with vegetation and stands of trees. A stone slab commemorated the death in action in a separate incident of Freddy Roberts, son of Field-Marshall Roberts from Kerry.

Durban

The weather grew warmer as we approached Durban, which we reached at mid-afternoon.

Romie checked us in at the Blue Waters hotel (www.bluewatershotel.co.za), in a room overlooking the beach. The deep blue of the Indian ocean stretched into the distance. On the horizon ships were queued up to enter the port. Down below surfers crossed the street carrying surfboards.

I couldn't wait to take a dip--my first in the Indian ocean. Rushed down to the beach, and was enjoying a swim parallel with the coast when an agitated life guard signalled me to come out of the water. Seemingly there were no shark nets up, due to the shoals of sardine which were moving all along the coast. The surfers were still out there, innocently paddling around, waiting for the next wave. I waited for a cry, a short sharp struggle and a spreading pool of blood on the surface--in vain.

That evening as darkness came on we walked to the Point, a pier filled with Indian anglers and their families (80% of South Africa's Indians live in Durban). Tried a traditional Durban dish, a bunny chow. This consisted of a loaf of bread (what we call a pan) with the centre scraped out and filled with curry sauce--it kept us going for several hours. As the sun went down the pier filled up with Indian families, the men dangling their fishing lines from the rocks, the women preparing barbeques and picnics.

Later we visited an interesting-looking arts centre cum restaurant, but maybe we were there too early, because it was almost empty, so we went to a nearby fish restaurant where I had kingklip, a tasty white fish, while Romie had prawn curry, washed down with an exquisite Chardonnay.