The Perfect Sale

To Berg-En-Dal Camp, Kruger Park, South Africa

When our B&B host, Philippa, heard our travel plans and that we were planning to buy a tent and camping equipment for Kruger, she quickly offered to let us use their stuff. They weren't using it and it would just be sitting in the garage anyway. Wow, so just like that, we had everything we needed -- tent, stove, solar lights, eating and cooking utensils, cooler, storage bins. Just add water... and food.

Philippa and Meg

I hadn't run since Cape Town, and I could really tell. Sandton,a suburb of Johannesburg, is a busy, bustling city. There were plenty of people walking on the sidewalks and dirt paths along the busy four lane roads. Where brick sidewalks were being installed, there were men working, each with a pick and shovel. At the end of the run, I returned to the neighborhood and the relative quiet and tranquility was obvious as I trotted passed the automated security gate. Clearly, crime was a concern as the majority of properties had high walls, barbed wire or electric fencing, and security systems. On the way to the airport yesterday, we had asked the taxi driver why the land next to the highways was often burned. It was sufficiently common that we were pretty sure it must be intentional. He replied that it was burned to get rid of the tall grass to make it easier to look for criminals from police helicopters! Hmm. That seemed hard to believe, but even if not true, the general belief was that crime is a major problem.

Before we had loaded up the new 4x4 -- a basic Toyota Hilux double cab with camper shell -- Dex and Kylie found the very cool tree house in the back yard, complete with trap door, secret exit, and pail and pulley system for hauling up valuable booty.  Philippa needed to run some errands, so we said our goodbyes and promised to be back in a week with the camping gear and stories of our time in Kruger. I left the keys with the hired help, both black, a man working in the yard and woman in the kitchen, and wondered how common the practice is.

There still seems to be a divide between white and black. Shanty towns still exist and many people are without private transportation, which means it is common to hitchhike, walk along the highways, or ride in the back of trucks and pickups. People are often out on the streets hustling to make a sale or simply asking for food, money, or both. As obvious tourists, we are probably hit up more than the typical residents.

On the way out of town, stopped at a stop light, a man walked up with an armful of cowboy hats. We waved him off, but he pointed to the headlights and said something, so I rolled down the window (mistake number one). He greeted me enthusiastically, told me what a great day he was having, and stuck a brown hat in the window which I took hold of (mistake number two). He just wanted me to have it... no charge... really. In fact, he wanted us all to have hats and proceeded to stick in hat after hat stepping away and refusing to take them back. He then explained, as the light was ready to turn green, that I could keep all the hats though he would appreciate anything I could spare. Normally they cost 400 rand.…  I managed to hand the white, the black, and the red hats back, but somehow was still left with the brown. I considered driving off, but guilt got the better of me (mistake number three) and I dug out 200 rand for what is surely a 40 rand hat. In hindsight, I could see that he executed the sale perfectly while I... am now the owner of a handsome, Halloween-quality cowboy hat. Yee haa!

Once again, we had a schedule to meet as we had to be to Kruger and in the Berg-En-Dal camp before sunset at 18:00. A couple hundred kilometers outside the park, we saw a man outside a gas station hitchhiking. He looked harmless, so, confirming that we were still on the right route, we circled back and offered him a ride.

His name was Clifton, and he turned out to be quite a character. An average, middle age, white bloke, he wore cargo shorts and a short sleeved shirt with tattooed arms and, upon closer inspection, two green tear drop tattoos on his cheeks. He had been a miner for much of his life but eventually gave that up -- just couldn't take it anymore. He now has a small piece of land in the hills, which he got for a song and makes ends meet by providing cannibis oil to a doctor in Jo'burg. Ever since his van was stolen a while back, he hitches to and from the city. He was full of information about the local flora and fauna.  Oranges, nuts, and "avos" (avocados) were grown throughout the area. According to Clifton, we should watch out for spitting Cobras, not swim in the rivers or oceans to avoid crocs and Great Whites, and make sure to roll up our windows in Kruger to keep the lions from leaping in!  After forty-five minutes I slapped him on the shoulder joking that he had finally convinced me to turn around and leave.

  

He echoed that that crime is an ongoing problem in the country and explained that he gets along well with blacks, but felt it was better when whites were in control. There's no difference between the races, but the black man was developing more slowly, so it made sense to help them along. Plus, it's better to separate everyone so they all get along. You can't stick a Chinaman, an Indian, a white man and a black man all together cause there’s always going to be trouble and warring. I realized I could have debated the point with him though it is doubtful I was going to change his point of view forged over a lifetime. It was nonetheless, interesting to hear his perspective. Just as we reached a stoplight in Nelspruit, he thanked us for the ride and before we knew it, had hopped out.

Once again, we were racing the clock, needing to be to the campground before dark.  In the last big town before the park, Meg and I sped through the Super Spar stocking up on food supplies. We made it with time to spare and snagged a small, uneven spot next to the chain linked fence. The five man, canvas tent with flexible steel poles for the support structure, was a bit of challenge, requiring all four of us to hoist everything into position. For the first time in ages, we were sweltering inside the tent, no sleeping bags required.