Come on, tell me more. , ,
Our travel guide is Sithembiso Geoff Foster. Sithembiso is not just any first name, it means promise. In South Africa, I quickly learn that, much has a second meaning, a deeper meaning. Sithembiso used to be a teacher, today he works in the tourism business, talks on the phone a lot, and proudly shows his daughter's photos. He promises to take good care of us on our journey through the Eastern Cape Province, which is rarely visited by tourists and where the coast is wild and beautiful.
Where to go on a journey of discovery. But where there is crime, as everywhere in South Africa, raids and you better not go alone through certain neighborhoods and townships at nightfall.
Above all, Sithembiso promises us, a small tour group from Germany, stories. Stories from a land that has as many myths and legends as stars in the sky. They often sparkle wonderfully because they are full of poetry. The sometimes nasty and mean, because they take a bad end. Hardly a tree, an animal, a spectacular rock opening, which are not intertwined with any story.
A trip to South Africa is always full of stories
Stories that have to do with creation myths again and again. For example, in the case of the sun, which initially was a man among the San Indians of South Africa. As soon as he raised his arms in the air, light shone from his armpits. But when he grew old and weak, children raised his arms. One day they hurled him to heaven, where he has since appeared as sun.
Sithembiso does it like any good storyteller: He does not reveal all his treasures right at the beginning. "When I was a kid my mother always told me stories before falling asleep, you'll hear a lot of them, but I'll tell you a very personal story at the end." He smiles a little bit maliciously, and we know right away that it's useless to drill. Who tells, has power. If you listen, you can carry without thinking, it's like swimming on the sea.
The first story is a promise of happiness.
Sithembiso tells of this in Port Elizabeth, where our tour begins, a port town with industrial facilities, but with pretty Victorian houses and an impressive town hall in the center. The big beaches are just around the corner. Sithembisos story has to do with the coral tree. We see the bright red flowers already from a distance, on the way to the city center, and I have to think about this morning, when I'm jogging along the sea: Very slowly, the sun rose from the water, first it was just an orange slice and then a Fireball, the whole sky was in flames. I imagined that the sun man is just raising his arms in the air and doing so in a color noise device.
Sithembiso points to the ground, where red seed balls lie, which the coral tree has thrown off. Put one of them in your pocket, and tomorrow you'll be rich or otherwise lucky, at least that's what people here think. " I sink a bean in the left and one in the right jacket pocket - twice better holds. You should be my talisman. At least as long as I am in South Africa, I will believe it. Our next destination is the beautiful name Pumba: a private game reserve offering safaris not far from the Victorian town of Grahamstown. The ride is on. The landscape is mostly barren, many cactus, skinny cows, occasionally isolated olive trees, orange and lemon plantations. Sometimes aloe plants with long red flowers appear, like big candles they look. "Do you want to hear an animal story from the region?" Asks Sithembiso. Clear. "She's in a national park near Grahamstown and is about an aggressive elephant boss."
The story of Hapoor, the lonely elephant
Hapoor was the legendary boss of an elephant herd in Addo Elephant Park for 24 years. He had a notch in one ear because he got a rifle shot from a hunter, some of his family members were even killed. Since then, Hapoor has a deep hatred of people. But even against his peers Hapoor can become very aggressive, in a rank fight he kills a young bull. However, he is friendlier to the female sex: he gives the coup de grace to a sick elephant cow that had been shot by ranchers. But one day, 40 years ago, Hapoor is defeated by the strongest young bull in the flock in a fight. As a result, the 44-year-old elephant is becoming a loner. He passes over the park fence, which was supposed to be completely safe.A park keeper then shoots the elephant, which had become too dangerous, too unpredictable. Hapoor's skull hangs today in the restaurant of Addo Elephant Park.
When Sithembiso finishes, he says, "Elephants are usually herd animals, so you do not have to worry about a lone descendant of hapoor in Pumba." Is Hapoor's story actually true or invented? Sithembiso grins. My guide says it's a legend. One of many in the land of storytellers. In the past, I read, it was often the tribal elders who told stories, among the Zulu or Xhosa often the women too. Music and dance were part of the performance. So the stories went word of mouth until in the 19th century missionaries wrote down a number of them. I would like to go back in time to the dancing poets - it's a pity that even with magic beans in the bag, that does not work out.
They whistle and grunt, splash and splash.
You might think the elephants were celebrating a big water party and were pretty tipsy. We are in the Pumba Game Reserve, a complex of thatched, luxuriously appointed bungalows tucked away among woods, grasslands, dense bushes and a lake. It is already dusk, the sun sets behind the long mountain range. Of two elephants only head and trunk can be seen. Finally, they straighten up in the water and slowly go back to shore. Suddenly it is very quiet, the waves are smoothing, and the elephants stand immobile on the shore, gray rocks in the dusk. When I pick up my key at the front desk, the clerk says, "You can not leave home alone at night, that's too dangerous, sometimes the lions come very close, dial the number 2000, and someone will pick you up."
An hour later it is pitch dark. For tonight a night safari is planned. I dial the number 2000, and a little later my escort service comes. John, the Ranger, welcomes us. We chug off, wrapped in thick blankets, on dusty paths. Above us the starry sky, the moon a delicate sickle. John makes a big headlight circle. We see kudu, porcupines, zebras, every animal looks like a magnificent painting.
"I'd like to show you a lion couple," whispers John, "my feeling tells me it's very close." Maybe the beans will help us, I think. A little later, a lion-pair appears in the spotlight, peacefully storing it between the bushes. The lion with a big macho mane licks her with his long tongue, she has her eyes half closed, it seems to please her. After a while, the two get up, come slowly to our car, and I feel a little uncomfortable. "Do not worry," says John, and at that moment the animals are turning back and continuing their lure and licking games. Romeo and Juliet in the bush, under glittering stars - I could watch them for hours.
Back at the hotel I leaf through a collection of African fairy tales, in search of a lion's story, before falling asleep. And come across "Mess with King Lion".
The story of the lion that distributes gifts
The lion celebrates a festival and invites all animals to himself. He gives the leopard a spotted suit, the zebra a striped jacket, the giraffe a long neck. The elephants get long noses and the hyenas the loudest laugh ever heard in the bush. In the end, all the gifts are distributed and the guests of King Lion happy. Almost all. Two of them go empty-handed: the old turtle with its horn shell and the frog, who has to swim completely naked in the water. Only at night, when it is dark, he dares to land.
For a moment I think about the poor frog, then my eyes close. I dream that I am also invited to King Lion. He is very friendly and gives me a stole of colorful feathers. When it's time to say goodbye, he says, "You're not going to be so cowardly now, dialing 2000, are you? Good home." I shake my head in consternation. At that moment, I wake up from a loud grunt. I go to the window and see two elephants drinking at the lake at dawn.
"Wamkelekile!" The woman hurls the greeting at me like a rifle volley.
She speaks Xhosa, one of the eleven official languages of South Africa, with many funny clicks and snapshots. We're in Joza, a Grahamstown township - a contrast to the bush adventure. Tin sheds, dilapidated houses, loitering unemployed, stray hun de, but also a few colorfully painted houses that look more solid.
Esther Ndukweni, who greets us in the simple township house, is working for a community project: she cooks for small groups, often tourists, with other women, making her living. And she loves to tell stories - "after dinner," says the 57-year-old and claps her hands.On the table are several bowls: Isigwamba - the Xhosa name for cabbage, spinach and rice dumplings -, carrots, dumplings, a bit of lamb. Everything is very simple, but tasty. "Do you want to hear the story of the bird that can shit milk now?"
The story of the bird that gives milk
Esther laughs loudly. She stands in the middle of the room and begins to declaim, with a thousand-handed gesture and shifting faces, she must have tons of facial muscles. I do not understand a word, but the idea is great. In the end, Sithembiso translates for us.
A bird sits down on the hand of a poor man and says: "Do me no harm, because I can give milk." The man takes him home. There his wife puts him in a milking bucket, and soon the bucket is full of milk. Satisfied, both drink it. Then they order their children not to touch the bird and go to work on the field. The children, however, pick up the bird and he says, "Put me in the kraal." They do - and he flies away. When the parents come back, the children give everything. Her father ties ropes around her neck and hangs them over a river on two branches. The ropes, however, tear, the children fall into the water and sink in the depth, where they are transformed into river gods.
"Every kid knows this story," says Esther. She herself has heard of her grandparents, now Esther tells her to her twelve grandchildren. "The old people do not come to our homes with us, but stay with the families, and the stories stay with them." Some of these stories lead back to the ancestors who are worshiped everywhere in South Africa. And who, according to the faith here, speak in dreams to their relatives. As a farewell, Esther shakes hands with everyone three times, always entangled differently, that's the custom here, she says. I say "enkosi", thank you, and try to pop the "k" like a champagne cork. Later, on the bus, Sithembiso has to listen to a deafening snap concert. When does he actually tell us the promised story? "Soon," says Sithembiso. We do not have much time left. Story debts are like gambling debts, I think, it's a matter of honor to settle them.
It is still dark when we get up very early in the morning to go to the East London airport. Sithembiso is dozing in the bus. When he yawns suddenly, we take the opportunity: What about the story? "All right, promise is promised." Sithembiso straightens up and tells.
The story of the happy child
When my parents were young, they were afflicted several times by misfortune. Her first child was a stillbirth. The second one died shortly after birth. I came as a third child. So that does not happen again a disaster, I should be called Sithembiso, as a promise for better times. My grandfather had come up with the name, that's common with us. The promise actually came true: I stayed healthy, and after me came two more children, my younger brothers. That's how the misfortune left my family.
"Now you know the story," says Sithembiso. For me, what he has told is a touching story, probably a great miracle for him. Whether he really believes in the name magic? Here, in this land, as I have learned, faith can move mountains. Outside it is getting light, the sky turns scarlet red. And the man who is the sun slowly raises his arms.
Travel info
The organizer Gebeco offers literary trips to South Africa, for example in September and November. The 16-day tour starts in Johannesburg and continues via Pretoria, Kruger National Park, Swaziland, Drakensberg to Port Elizabeth, Knysna and Cape Town. From 3695 euros, including flights, accommodation, meals.
Throughout the year there are also four-day connecting arrangements in the game reserve The Ant's in the Waterberg region or in Grahamstown or in the Kwandwe Game Reserve in the Eastern Cape Province. From 1295 euros. Bookings at the travel agency or via www.gebeco.de
Information desk: South African Tourism Friedensstr. 6-10 60311 Frankfurt Free service number: 0800/118 91 18 Fax 069/28 09 50 www.southafrica.net www.dein-suedafrika.de
Daily non-stop flights to South Africa from Frankfurt and Munich with South African Airways at www.flysaa.com or the SAA Service Center at Tel. 069/29 98 03 20
For preparation: "Myth Africa, Literary Route". Information brochure as PDF for download at www.literarische-route-south-africa. dewww.mythos-suedafrika.de
