My first solo trip
September 2016 is where my “solo sojourns” officially started and that year also marked my first trip to The Motherland. Little did I know at the time that it would be one of many trips I would make to the African continent. As a child I, like so many other young people, dreamed of visiting Egypt and seeing the pyramids and the sphinx, so, it made sense that Egypt would be the first African nation I planned to visit.
Unfortunately, 2015-16 found that nation dealing with a fresh round of terrorist activity and I decided to postpone my visit but not cancel my holiday. I shifted my attention to the second nation on my bucket list – South Africa and I figured if I was going to travel 19 hours to get there, I was going to see more than just South Africa.
I knew I wanted to experience the thrill of my first safari, visit Robben Island to see where Nelson Mandela had been imprisoned, take in the view from atop Table Mountain, spend time learning at the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg, and eat my way through Capetown, but the question was could I also incorporate time in Botswana and Zimbabwe while I was there. After researching the three nations and the logistics of traveling between them, I found that my itinerary was definitely doable since Botswana, Zimbabwe, Zambia, and Namibia actually meet at a point called the “Quadripoint Area”. I could cross the border from Zimbabwe into Botswana and then fly to South Africa with ease.
During my “deep dive” on the three destinations, I noted that many travelers lamented the fact that Botswana is often overlooked as a safari destination and is overshadowed by places like South Africa, Kenya or Tanzania yet it was well documented as having superb wildlife viewing and boasted one of the largest elephant populations in the world. Always one to root for the “underdog”, I decided Botswana would be where I would experience my very first safari.
Zimbabwe, which is mainly known for “the smoke that thunders”, also called Victoria Falls, was a must and Namibia was a “gimme” while I was in Botswana. While not on my original itinerary, an opportunity presented itself in the form of a village walk offered by the lodge where I was a guest. We literally hopped into one of the boats the lodge used for sunset cruises on the Zambezi River, crossed a small channel to an “immigration office” (it was literally a tiny building on the opposite shore, not even a 10-minute ride away from my lodge) where my passport was stamped and I was officially on Namibian soil.
As of this writing, I definitely plan to revisit Namibia (as well as Botswana, this time, the Okavango Delta) and spend time taking in the culture and visit Windhoek, Twyfelfontein, Swakopmund and the Skeleton Coast to name a few sites but, alas, I digress.
While I did not spend much time in Namibia, I had an excellent guide that shared what a typical day in the life of the locals would normally be like. Their days were filled with manual labor with the women taking care of the home, the children, gardening and many times even construction projects in the community. Men would typically erect structures but the women would fortify the wooden walls with mud and then decorate the insides and plan out the space. It was definitely an interesting day and I really learned a lot.
Upon return to the shores of Botswana, I had my fill of safari outings over the next three days and then it was off to South Africa with my first stop being Johannesburg. I took advantage of the Red Bus tour of Jo’burg or Josie as it is called and Soweto which shuttled me to the Apartheid Museum, Constitution Hill and Vilakazi Street (where Nelson Mandela’s house stands) just to name a few sites. I had an amazing dining experience at Gold where I had a drumming lesson, live entertainment with Mali puppets and a 14-course meal. What an experience!
After a busy two days there, it was off to my final city, Capetown where I had my Robben Island excursion, another Red Bus tour spread over two days that covered all the major sites, Table Mountain Cableway, Kirstenbosche Gardens, Monkey Jungle & World of Birds, the District Six Museum, the South Africa Museum and High Tea at the Mount Nelson Hotel. Fancy! In the evenings, I made sure I checked out the incredible food scene as Capetown is definitely a foodie destination.
To say that this trip sparked or awakened something in me would be a severe understatement. I learned a lot about myself during this trip. The most important things were:
I enjoyed traveling solo and the freedom it gave me to be spontaneous and take advantage of opportunities that would not have been possible had I been traveling with others (ie. the last-minute village walk in Namibia);
Crafting my own itineraries was an experience. Securing a tour provider to handle my transportation and the logistics enabled me to truly have the experiences I wanted to have instead of ones forced on me by an organized group trip; and,
I really enjoyed learning about other cultures and interacting with the local people. It totally expanded my horizons and made me think of all the experiences that were literally at my fingertips.
I will apologize in advance for the quality of some of the photos in this photo journal. The camera I was using back then wasn’t the best, so shots came out really grainy but, hopefully, they will still inspire you to visit.
The entrance to the Apartheid Museum. Once you pay your entrance fee, you are issued a ticket. Printed on the ticket you are assigned a race category: Non-White or White. This designation is generated randomly by a computer and you are told to enter through the door reflected on your ticket regardless of what race you identify with.
As soon as you enter the Apartheid Museum, there are samples of the degrading passbooks South Africans were forced to carry at all times under penalty of the law.
If anyone was caught without their passbook they were arrested and shipped to the rural province of their birth. They could languish there for weeks or months without a trial.
Nooses. This room was particularly disturbing because each noose represented a person that died while in custody of the South Africa police. All of these people had their cause of death listed as “suicide”. Now tell me, how likely is it that so many people detained by the police would attempt suicide and of those attempting that all of these would actually succeed?
The words “Constitutional Court” are written in all 11 official South African languages outside the court. The court’s signage is a combination of the letters, signs, and symbols found on site: the graffiti on the prison walls, street traders’ hand-painted signs, and Justice Zak Yacoob’s handwriting. The various fonts are a deliberate move away from the Roman lettering synonymous with official buildings and aims to reflect the spirit and history of the area.
The Constitutional Court:
The highest court in South Africa.
Established in 1995 but opened at Constitution Hill on Human Rights Day, 21 March 2004.
The design is premised on the theme of lekgotla, which refers to the traditional African approach of conducting “justice beneath a tree.”
An extensive law library and art gallery are housed within its walls.
“Justice under a Tree” – the carpet depicts sunlight through trees.
Behind the justices’ desk is a ribbon window looking onto the street emphasizing the transparency of the court’s proceedings and is a symbolic reminder that this is a democracy and that court decisions cannot be made in secret.
The judge’s podium is decorated with Nguni cow hides, the different patterns signifying the diversity of the bench and the judges sit at eye level to the lawyers as they present their arguments.
The Hector Pieterson Museum is a large museum located in Orlando West, Soweto, South Africa. The museum is located two blocks away from where Hector Pieterson was shot and killed on June 16, 1976, and covers the events of the anti-Apartheid Soweto Uprising where more than 170 protesting school children were killed.
Hector was one of the first casualties when police opened fire on a group of schoolchildren on June 16th. Ironically, Hector was not even supposed to be there – he was not even in secondary school yet but had followed his sister, Antoinette Sithole, to the protest. He was shot and a good Samaritan, Mbuyisa Makhubo, picked him up and ran to the nearest hospital but Hector succumbed to his injuries and died en route.
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