Daily Archives: June 23, 2010

The Long Hard Fight for Freedom (Kirsty’s blog) Saturday 19th June published Wednesday 23rd June

What a wonderful city Cape Town is, we could have done with another week there to cram everything in that we’d like to do, we did however manage to squeeze in a trip in to Robben Island, very poignant it was too. It’s incredible to think that the horrific conditions suffered by Nelson Mandela and the other political prisoners was taking place as recently as the 1980’s. Sparks, an ex political prisoner showed us around the prison and explained the unbelievably harsh conditions they had to endure, being black meant that they had the lowest food rations despite working for eight hours a day mining rock, they also had no shoes or long trousers even in winter, no glass at the windows or heating in their massively over crowded communal barrack style cells where the rain would pour in, washing facilites were almost non exsistant, though perhaps the cruellest of all is the fact that asian and coloured prisoners were given bettter rations and more clothing but the black prisoners were treated worse than any human or indeed any animal should ever be treated.
They kept the political prisoners incarcerated with serious and violent criminals in the hope that it would criminalise them, when in fact it worked the other way round and the criminal prisoners became political activists and helped the cause on their release.

The whole trip was very moving, upsetting and at times made me angry that in our lifetime this kind of treatment of fellow human beings and racist persecution could have taken place. Sparks was an amazingly gentle man who now works at Robben Island alongside his previous prison guards and men who meted out punishment to him for more than seven years, having been imprisoned there as a young boy of nineteen. I find it extraordinary that he can now live and work alongside his previously cruel captors and has even become friends with some of them, that must take an enormous level of forgiveness, though as Sparks pointed out, apartheid is no more, he now has his freedom and his life…many many young men weren’t so lucky and lost their lives fighting for freedom.

Nelson Mandela and all of the political prisoners fought for many years for freedom from apartheid though I find their capacity to forgive and the creation of the Rainbow Nation the most amazing feat of all, I’m truly humbled by it.

We walked around the island, spotted penguins and ambled back to the boat in quiet contemplation of what life must have been like there and more than once I looked at Andy and saw tears rolling down his face.

Once on the boat a couple of girls sat behind us and one of them was American, now I must apologise to any American friends however she had a particularly high pitched, nasally and hugely annoying voice. She then proceeded to moan about absolutely everything, but the amazing thing was the pettiness of her griping…her cheese portion was too small, her washing wasn’t folded right, someone had a better TV in their room than her, when she asked for directions she felt the person could have given more detail, she didn’t like the way someone held a book, I kid you not! It was driving me insane and I suggested loudly to Andy that never mind water boarding, they could use this woman as a form of torture, she’d make the most secretive spy squeal like a pig

The most annoying thing was that she’d just been on exactly the same tour of the prison as us but obviously her hardship and suffering was far more important…selfish twit! (or indeed insert you’re own noun).

Off on the Garden Route tomorrow to find ourselves in the Wilderness…can’t wait.

Wednesday 23rd June (published 23rd June Andy’s blog)

After a dodgy night’s sleep I have woken up at 7am. Nervous, tense and frankly a little depressed. The adventure ends or starts today in reality as England are in the knock outs a game earlier than planned. Worries about over sleeping were needless, given we are under the flightpath to the airport and just the other side of the railway lines in the strip of land between shore and docks.

The local TV is dissecting Bafana Bafa exit from the World Cup and also theorising how the local population will take the situation. Talk of locals now reverting back to crime and ‘trying to make the most of the tourist Rand’ seem a little far fetched, but what do I know? Also plenty of talk about what will happen should England follow Bafana Bafana out of the competition, some commentators fearing mass riots and civil unrest! Not really sure that will happen, although it has done plenty of times in the past of course.

Breakfast is essential on match days given the uncertainty of when you will next eat and how much beer one can drink. The boys had had a good sleep, all bar Alan who had resorted to sleeping in the bath, given the unearthly sounds from the nostrils of Steve and Dave. Poor old Alan, he is by his own admission a ‘light sleeper’. At least everyone is still laughing, and Jack won’t stop nagging Steve about his jamjar.com deal. That is set to run and run…

Breakfast on the sea front – matchday -the World Cup – beers and laughs – what’s not to like? Other than it is England and we are in the docks!

At least this afternoon although a do or die game, win or go home, we will not have another ‘exit by penalty shoot out’. This fact alone gives me hope we will progress to the next round, play the Germans and start taking this World Cup seriously. England need big games. Fab has kissed John and made up, or maybe the other way round and I am sure David has given them both tips on man management and contrition. Lose to the Twin Peak shirted Slovenians and Terry and Capello will get hung out to dry. It really is as simple as that. Glad I am here and not at home where the atmosphere following yesterday’s budget will get even more depressed!

Tuesday 22nd June (published Wednesday 23rd June)

We had to say goodbye to our wonderful Wilderness retreat, which was simply amazing and our equally amazing hosts John and Judy and head 350kms to Port Elizabeth and the wonder of ‘Sir Roy’s at the sea’ (‘where everyone is treated like royalty’ ) our next port of call for a two or three night stay. We would like a three nighter, but there was no room at the inn on the day of the match, so we could be sleeping in the car. Hey ho, I have had worse places down the years.

The weather continues to astonish and the wet weather cum mountain hiking gear that we have brought with us remains neatly folded up in our bags. Yes it does get a little chilly at night once the sun goes down, but every day has been shorts and T-shirt weather, and this is winter!

The driving along the pictureseque Garden Route from Wilderness to Port Elizabeth is easy. Roads are new and straight as a die. It feels like the Romans have popped in to sort out the infrastructure. We stopped off in the rather wonderful coastal town of Knysna and had a plate of oysters and and a glass of white wine. Bliss. Knysna was the base for Denmark and the now hapless French and national flags of both teams were hanging off every lamp post. The boys had passed through earlier and seen the French football team’s coach which had had it’s tyres let down.

The only downside of our brief stop off was that we would be en route whist Bafana Bafana play their last game vs France in their version of mission impossible. Thus we were subjected to the rather interesting commentary on Radio 2000, official broadcaster of the FIFA World Cup and obviously part of the deal is to mention FIFA every 2 or 3 minutes, which, like all things FIFA from their over priced tat that poses as souvenirs to the face value of match tickets sold in US dollars to loyal fans, tedious. As if to symbolise the chaos in the French camp, the radio broadcast of ‘The Marseillaise’ was interrupted for 10 seconds with a complete blackout. When sound was restored, I could not recognise the tune. It turned out that the broadcast location had changed and we were hearing the second half of the Mexican national anthem! This then segwayed into the Uruguayan anthem, which sounds like it was written by Puccini or Mozart (listen to it at their next game and you will see where I am coming from!). The commentators out here get over excited, easily. It is impossible to know if a goal is scored, as even the tamest of attempts is accompanied by a roar. I thought Stephen Pienaar had scored when infact he had stabbed an effort tamely wide. As we all know Bafana Bafana went down fighting and were left to rue the two late and unneccessary goals conceded against Uruguay a few days earlier. It could have been so different.

We hit Port Elizabeth just as the game was ending and sought out Sir Roy’s. Our directions were good and finding it was easy. Better still, we were greeted by the lovely Wendy with news that yet again FIFA’s travel department had cancelled a room at 3pm that day and we were in luck and would have a bed the night of the game. FIFA’s greed knows no boundaries – everywhere we go hotel and guest house owners regale us with tales of FIFA’s inepitude and lack of consideration. All accomodation is marked up a minimum of 30% which no doubt helped them get to their 4 billion US Dollars profit on the World Cup 2010. 4 billion!!!

We wasted no time, checked in, admired the ‘sea views’ across the docks and railway junction and headed off to meet up with the Evas ( now three on account of Jack Minimus arriving) Dave and Swiss Jimmy. The snoring fever had not stopped, indeed Alan (‘Moany’ as he has now been christened by his brother) was not on parade, as he had done all the driving and was ‘tired’. The rest suggested that it was Moany’s turn to ‘go to bed early with a headache’ (ie get some light relief so to speak). Much laughter and ‘Carry On’ humour surrounds these code words.

We also needed to meet up with Dom, Simon, Chris and Keith ( who had arrived on Sunday and replaced Pilks). A few beers in the local bar (Finnezz) and we jumped a cab to seek out the others. We found them at Kelways – probably the worst bar I have been in since we came to South Africa. Full of overweight, lary, bovine English geezers and a local bloke on guitar,with several synthesisers and amps playing ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining’, ‘Nights in White Satin’, ‘No Particular Place to Go’ and other such classics whilst the Argentina game played on in its own vacuum. Dom was being put to bed as he was very tired and Simon and Keith were weighing up their options, so to speak. I decided to leave and find somewhere else to eat and drink.

Lo and behold I only needed to look next door. ‘Blackbeard’s’ restaurant awaited, like a lone beacon of refuge on a foggy night. As soon as I descended the steps down to the ‘galleon entrance’, I got this weird déjà vu. I was entering the set of the 1968 Disney film ‘Blackbeard’s Ghost’ starring Peter Ustinov. Every detail was perfect, from ship’s wheels, rigging, cutlasses through to the Captain’s uniform. This was a time warp. The menu was confusing to say the least, a mix of nautical terms and cod (sorry!) phraseology with food items. The owner was overly obsequious a sort of nervous Basil Fawlty and if he had had a forelock, would no doubt have tugged it. Maybe he had lost his forelock through over tugging down the years. He clearly had some prawns and a T-Bone steak that were getting close to ‘sell by/best before’ as he insisted on showing these to everyone, hoverring over us, waiting on the slightest bit of positive body language as a sign of compliance. When I said ‘the steak looks great’, I did not actually mean ‘yes, I want that’. Ho hum. The others joined me for the second half.

The evening tailed off somewhat after Chris joined us, nothing to do with him, rather the fact that when the owner had asked Keith ‘if everything was to his satisfaction’, Keith a part time foodie replied ‘actually no. The mussels were gritty, the sauce had the consistency of refectory blancmange and the noodles were like worn shoelaces’. Basil Fawlty, immediately ‘sold’ Keith another plate of the finest prawns. With Bafana Bafana going out of the World Cup, every knocked back cover was a lost opportunity and this chap was a consumate salesman.

We bumped into a couple of lads later on in Blackbeard’s, Dave and Andy who we had met in Cape Town. T’s funny how small the world can be. Funnier still to see Dave enjoying a rather large T-Bone steak and Andy eating prawns. You have to hand it to Basil, he sold that T- Bone and its little pink friends. As salesmen always say, ‘it’s all about ABC’.