Category: culture

The Outlandish Ostrich

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This member of the poultry family is giant, memorizing, all around impressive.  This animal is huge.  Fluffy.  Fast.  Beautiful.  With plumage that makes every bird, aside from the peacock, envious, with adaptation that we humans can admire, and with meat delicate and decadent, it is truly amazing that this bird is not a more popular source of protein in every part of the world.

Chicken, pork, and beef, universally loved by meat eaters, are so common that they are ubiquitous in all grocery stores, all restaurants, raised by the herds and consumed by the masses.  How did this giant and delicious bird get missed by our never ending appetite?  It makes no sense.  They can tolerate a large range of temperatures, evident in the fact that they can survive in a desert where heat fluctuates greatly between day and night.

This flightless bird is very distinctive with its tall stature, elongated legs, fat fluffy midsection with a tiny head on top.  Those slim legs can carry this creature at an astonishing 43 mph (70 m/h), granting this the fastest 2 legged creature on this diverse planet.   This is the largest living bird, and lays the largest eggs.  The eggs, with a shell that is as thick as your grandma’s prized porcelain soup terrine, weighing up to 3 pounds, could fed the entire household at breakfast.  The size of the ostrich egg is over 20 times the size of a chicken’s eggs, but surprisingly, this ratio of bird to egg size is rather small.  After seeing the size of an ostrich egg, I have a hard time believing that.  A female ostrich lays about 50 eggs per year.

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I don’t think that you realize how giant this bird it.  It is common for it to weight up to 320 pounds, the size of 2 adults!  Male ostriches can be as tall as 9 feet.  This is bird is monstrous in size and normally lives 45 years, but given the right environment can live to 75 years.

Sticking to the bird kingdom protocol, the male ostriches are the more physically attractive gender, with their silky black and white plumage, dressed up everyday in their fanciest tuxedo, while the women don the drab medley of brown plumage.

A Lesson in Geography

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Africa is gigantic, and South Africa, just a small slice of that continental pie, is also mind-boggling massive.  It is the 25th largest country in the world, with 53 million people.  It is an extremely multiethnic country, apparent in the 11 official languages recognized by the government- the most official languages of any country in the world.

I got to say, I knew it was diverse here- I knew there were a good amount of European descendants, and a good amount of Indians, but I am shocked at the diversity here.  Nearly everything is stemmed from the Dutch language, and it is abound everywhere.  I cannot even pretend to say the simplest of words.  No, I cannot say good morning, I can hardly say thanks.  Thankfully English is spoken by just about everyone, although the countrymen of South Africa are more accustomed to the British style accent.

Afrikaans is the widely used, second after English, a language derived from the Dutch language, and from what I gather, it is easier to speak then that heavily throaty and consonant ridden father language.  This language is spoken by the upper people, and the servant class the interacts with the people in power.  Although Zulu is spoken by the highest percentage of the population, all street signs, highway signs, and advertisements are in both Afrikaans and English.

The remaining 9 official languages are Congo derived languages, stemmed from the aboriginal tribes that are spoken within the local cultural contexts: Zulu, Xhosa, Venda, Tsonga, Tswana, Swazi, Sotho, Northern Sotho, and Ndebele.

Given that the majority of the population is black, and that 9 out of 11 official languages are of the indigenous people, I am surprised at the lack of black faces I have seen around- in the streets, in the stores, when I look around the community.  The culture has been overrun by the Dutch, German, and British, heavily influenced by Indian and Asian cultures.  I am not finding Africa inspired art or food, I am not hearing African centric music, I am not seeing different textiles and languages, I am not seeing the culture.  I am seeing a charming English countryside with Dutch street names and white faces everywhere I look.  I see shopping malls with Western fashion, I see grocery stores with imported fruit, I see restaurants that are inspired by the French cuisine.

It’s not like the situation back in the States, when the European settlers came and systematically destroyed all of the native people once they settled on the sandy shores.  80% of the population are descendants of the Sub- Sahara ancestry, but this is the invisible class.  These are the people who are pumping your gas, waiting your tables, picking up your trash, cooking your food, checking you out at the grocery store.  These are the people that are living in shack communities with tiny house that are so close to one another that the outside walls seem to be seamless, that are hidden behind tall walls as to not disrupt your Kodak view of the surrounding beautiful countryside with the ocean view.

Apartheid, a government regulated legislation that enforced segregation, that kept the white skin in power and the black skin in poverty, existed until 1990.  That is a mere 25 years of trying to balance out a system that has been unfair since 1662.  Up until 1990 the indigenous languages were not even considered official languages- only English and Afrikaans were recognized.

South Africa is considered to be a modern industrial economy, earning the 7th highest percentage of income in all of Africa.  The money is found almost completely in the hands that burn easily in the sun, while the people who inherit this land are left in poverty, under educated, without a fighting chance in hell to catch up.  This system of unbalance is not doing justice to anyone- it is robbing the country of the diverse cultures and flavors that make this beautiful country interesting, unique, colorful, inspiring, and world class. The identity of this place is in the hands of people who have imposed their own set of culture, it is time to focus on what the majority of the population have to contribute.

 

Colorful Adventures on the Black Road

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The rain waited until we got home after a day of adventure to start it’s slow cry.  It happily waited until the sun left the horizon begin it’s nighttime wail.

With the evening in place, with the daytime travels in the past, luck was on my side to not have a sad sky to experience the beauty in this environment.

Driving along the coast of the Indian Ocean, traversing the highway etching along Western Cape, each turn is full of beautiful surprises.  After each curve in the road, you don’t know what sight will be up next, weather it is a long stretch of sandy coast line with bejeweled water peacefully rolling to the shore, or a mountain valley lined with lush tropical plants hugging the road, or a stint of African bush hibernating the road, waiting for the next rain to bring out their color.  There might be baboons hunched in the middle of the black paved highway, not worried about the passing traffic, too lazy to move out of the way unless you stop and try to capture their smile on camera.  You might even be surprised to see lines of straight American Pines standing like soldiers along the pass, strangely fitting in amongst the tropical plants.

The coastline is a rollercoaster following the curves of the mountain, taking you high enough to kiss the clouds, low enough to seen the glimmer of the sun reflect off the mighty ocean.

Nestled into the hillside, between the changing green scenery, mostly along the sandy shore line, are small seaside towns, white houses with colorful roofs dot the rolling terrain.  Each one has a main street fitted with the same name, shops and restaurants welcoming the curious traveler with the charm of a small town.

Sometimes the bay holds you in, reassuring you of where you belong, sometimes the expanse of the ocean gives you pause about your place in this wide world.

 

Just Down the Road

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Soaking in the hot African Sun,

Chasing the cloud shadow like a refreshment.

The vibrant lush green of the valley trees,

Is juxtaposed to the vibrant red dirt along the roadside.

The cool air of the bay,

The fog clinging to the ocean like an infant to its mother.

But just up a steep road, cut like a diamond through the rolling hillside

Balancing the swaying mountains like a surfer atop a wave,

A desert is waiting.

Those steady peaks mimic the waves found in the ocean,

Once you cross them you find heat

Like the breathe of a tiger.

They are just as rough, just as defined as the anger in the ocean.

Despite their intrinsic differences, the ocean and the desert

Seem to have a lot in common.

 

Homecoming

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Mossel Bay, or Mosselbaai if you are a local, is a harbor town situation in a bay, nestled in the Indian Ocean, very close to the southern most tip of Africa.  This fishing community and tourist town is close to where the mighty Atlantic Ocean and the Indian Ocean meet and greet one other.

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In this small town, you are greeted with European charm at the tip of South Africa.  The quaint houses are built into the hillside, making the cobblestone sidewalks traverse the city with a slant.  Go for a walk around town, half of the journey will be as easy as it gets, while getting back will be a challenge.

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The jagged ocean’s shore line is held down with large boulders, that give way to sandy beaches.  The ever present waves knocking against the shore make for a surfing attraction.  The jeweled turquoise water is angry with it’s powerful punch, the surf howls as it crashes against the rocky shore.

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In addition to being a great fishing spot, the climate is year round stellar.  Highs around 80 degrees, lows around 55 degrees, you don’t need much in the way of protection from the environment.  It is no surprise that due to recent archeology finds and development, it is believed that this spot is the origin of all humanity.  This is where, thanks to the plethora of seafood rich in that special omega-3, the human brain got it’s jumpstart on development.  Thanks to easily accessible shellfish, humans could evolve into the thinking and self aware machines that we are today.

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The Exception to the Rule

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All animals love water, except for the cat.

Elephants will roam the expansive earth until the grassy green has turned to dusty rubble underneath the great mammoth hooves, searching the globe over for the life giving, cooling and muscle soothing antigravity force of the this benign and almost tasteless substance.  After the longest migration and facing death, the elephant will tumble in the water like a curious child, they find sheer ecstasy in reaching the long sought after goal.

Water is so intrinsic to life, water makes you weightless when submerged, it can cool you down or warm you up, it’s a neutral substance, but yet the great cat refuses to interact with it.  Even birds covered in feather will happily bathe for sheer enjoyment.  Where in the evolutionary history did the cat decide that no, it was not worth the trouble to dry off?  It’s really a small price to pay for the entertainment and practicality that this medium has to offer.  Maybe water smells bad to cats, I don’t think we will ever know.

Topical Impressions

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The shadows stamps from the clouds tattoo the South African soil like black sports on cow’s hide.  These perfectly pure white, fluffy floating islands cast a dark imagine, a dualistic sight far up in the sky.

The vibrant red unsettled earth shows minimal traces of humanity lingering below.  The patches of farmland are connected by straight and solitary roads, roads leading to seemingly nowhere.  The small clusters of communities are circled around each other like a hug, so spread out that the distance is shocking even from the bird’s eye view from above the clouds.

Streaks of earth are so red that is looks a stain, like red food dye got spilled from a passing aircraft, like a drunken god spilled a glass of wine over this part of the earth.

Anxiously Waiting With Patience

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Airports, a place of comfortable transience, a hub for tax free commerce, a collective of fast food kiosks, an oasis to bond with strangers, a place to escape the daily routine, a spot where you can relax in a restaurant for hours awaiting the next flying machine without being rushed out the door.  Everyone here is going somewhere, nobody here is an a hurry.  The connecting flight might not be for another a half day, some block of time that has long lost meaning in this place of continuance; everyone is collectively and peacefully waiting.  It’s a land that exists within walls, a place where once you enter, you can only exit through the clouds.  Time has a different attitude in this plain of waiting, of anticipation, of expecting the glory of vacation.  Just outside the city, there is none of the bustle of the city life.

You can have a beer for breakfast because for someone that just might be dinner time.   Here you suspend your expectations, pause your priorities, enjoy the temporary time of anticipation.

Preparation

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Marigold apologies for the delayed post, but she is mentally preparing herself for the 8 hour time difference for her upcoming travels.  Day will be night, night will be day; winter will be summer, pants will be shorts, boots will be sandals; fair skin will be the minority, good times will be the majority; work will be delayed for two weeks, relaxation will be liberated.

Look forward to nature at it’s finest, look forward to a whole new culture to critique, look forward to a whole new society to assess, look forward to more food to be addressed, look forward for more poems to emerge.

But before reaching the final destination, first we must travel to the other side of this great green globe, this bountiful beautiful blue bubble.

While my feet are not on the land, I will do my best to keep up with the daily jig of Marigold’s fanciful mind, I will continue to try to keep up with the demanding fingerwork of her tasks.

Goodbye cold Chicago, Hello land of the clouds.

Smartly Unaware

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Cell phones, a tiny computer in your hands, a gateway to any information that you might need at any place, any time, is, not so surprisingly ironically, not making us smarter, more informed people.  Smart phones, with there dumb games and meaningless addictive apps, are making the general public less aware of their surroundings, drawing people inwards at the expense of the outside world at large. In addition to making people inconsiderate by hardly being able to lift their locked eyes from this tiny screen, this smart device is making us less evolved.  This obsession is making us more vulnerable, less ready to expect the unexpected, more prone to danger, less adaptive, more shallow.  This hand held distraction is making us less social, which in turn is making us less cultural.

Be smart about how you use technology and the advancements that we are lucky enough to have access to.  Don’t be antisocial with online media, don’t be less engaging with strangers because you want to play a video game, don’t forget that you are part of a larger piece of the cultural puzzle.