The Great Escapade...

7/25/03 to 7/30/03: With the taste of hostels-gone-bad still fresh on our lips, Shannon and I pulled out of the Coffee Shack mud-pit parking lot as early as we could. We had decided that budget and logistical constraints would probably keep us in hostels until Capetown, when we plan on switching to campgrounds, villages, and parks. Shannon and I hadn't heard much about East London, so we weren't planning to stay more than a day or two, but when we pulled up to the beach front castle called the Sugar Shack, we weren't sure we would ever leave. The hostel is situated about 30 feet from a great beach break, and the 2nd floor, multi-level deck accesses about 240 degrees of incredible scenery. After about three days of soaking up the beautiful weather and getting pounded by fast breaking waves, we signed up for a horseback riding tour to mix it up a little bit. What we didn't realize was that the horseback riding trip was actually INSIDE a private game reserve. Luckily the lions were in their own enclosure, but the leopords, zebras, wildebeasts and other animals much bigger than me and my trusty pony were free to walk the trails with us. As it turns out, the only problem they've had with the wildlife is from "Attacking Ostriches". I couldn't visualize it either, but fortunately for us, none of the animals wanted to battle it out, so the game we saw only added to the experience. With Shannon's swollen ankle and "bum" blisters as our souveniers, we headed back to another night of reading and falling asleep to the crashing waves a couple feet from the front of the Cruiser. When Shannon and I realized that if we didn't leave now, we would probably get jobs and live the rest of our lives in East London, we packed up and pointed the Beast South once more. In a random stop at Port Alfred en route to Port Elizabeth, Shannon ended up finding a used wetsuit for about $25 and I ended up learning a little more about South African racial issues. Since it was going to take about 2 hours for the wetsuit shop to patch a hole in the suit, Shannon and I set out to find a barber to trip my mop. When we walked in the "Unisex" salon, the white lady behind the counter let us know they didn't have any openings for about 3 hours, so we should walk about 4 blocks down to another barber if we wanted a haircut right away. As we walked out the front door, Shannon noticed another "Salon" about 25 feet North of the one we just left. As we walked in, the mildly amused/interested looks on the faces of the barbers/stylists helped us realize that there are "Black" and "White" salons in South Africa. We weren't supposed to be in this salon, but the rules are unwritten, and no one turned me away. After walking out with one of the best fade haircuts I've ever received, I couldn't help but ponder what had just happened. I know it doesn't seem like that big of a deal, but the lady in the first haircut place didn't even mention the "Black" salon next door. She just assumed that we were white, and we needed to go to a white barber. I can't figure out if this is the remnants of Aparteid, or just different businesses catering to different clientel. Are black and white cultures that different? What would it look like if they were completely integrated? Is that even the ideal? Was separate but equal closer to reality? So many questions and so few answers. I can tell even as I type this, that after 5 weeks in Africa I've learned more about ex-patriot culture than I've learned about black culture. We've got over 5 months left in this country, so I'm looking forward to accelerating the learning process on all fronts. Since leaving Port Alfred, the most exciting thing that's happened was figuring out that the Beast had gas leaking from the carbeurator. This wouldn't have been that big of deal, except that the gas was leaking right onto the exhaust manifold, which could have ignited the petrol at any time. When faced with the choice between waiting for help on the side of road or chancing it, we pushed through to Port Elizabeth (PE) with our fingers crossed. Luckily we avoided becoming a moving fireball long enough to find another beach front paradise in PE. Life is rough...

7/20/03 to 7/25/03: After three great days hanging with our new buddy Sean in his house/hostel, we were ready to move down the coast. As I backed the cruiser down the 40-degree-slope driveway, I fell pray to my nemisis...the "Rolling backwards blind spot". As the rear bumper of the cruiser smashed into the 12" thick brick wall guarding the side of the driveway, I couldn't help thinking back to the first time my Mom let me borrow the car to head to Tahoe...when I did the exact same thing. Nice. Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for the wall, the Beast is a little more sturdy than my Mom's Ford Escort. When the dust cleared, the cruiser was standing strong and the now "S"-shaped wall looked like it was left over from a 1906 San Francisco highrise. Luckily for us, Sean was planning to demolish the wall anyway, so we dropped off some "I'm sorry" 12 packs of Castle Lager and hit the road. When we told people we were driving from Durban to Capetown, the one thing they told us was to NEVER drive at night in the Transkei (The area between Durban and Port Elizabeth). Unfortunately, due to the fact that almost all the roads in the area are either under construction or riddled with 10" deep potholes, and the Beast is slightly "Speed challenged", we found ourselves watching the sun go down with over an hour to go. Sometimes I'm not sure if all the talk about muggers and car-jackings is reality, or just hype the locals use to get a scare tourists. Every city in every country has it's share of sketchy neigborhoods, but unfortunately I had just read an article about a British couple that was car-jacked and left naked on the side of road a month earlier on the exact same road we were driving on, so my nuckles were definitely white on the steering wheel. With absolutely no light from any of the non-electrified townships around us, Shannon helped us avoid disaster by calling out the obstructions as they popped up..."Pothole!" ..."People!" ..."Cow!" ..."Bike!" ..."Donkey!". Luckily we were able to keep our clothes, and our car, and we pulled into the "Coffee Shack" just in time for lobster curry over rice. Our first impression of the Coffee Shack was positive. Plenty of travelers, good food, a free welcome drink at the bar, etc. However, after a couple days, the Billboard Top 40 tunes blaring from the bar 24 hours a day, the staff with perpetually bloodshot eyes, and the locals offering us bags of "Herb", began to wear on both of us. At this point, Shannon and I both started to wonder if hostels were the best way to travel through South Africa. It's almost as if they are little bubbles of "Western comfort zone", bundled and packaged for travelers who want to travel through Africa without really experiencing anything they couldn't see or do at home. There are plenty of great things about hostels, and we're going to get more time in the "Bush" than I think either one of us is ready for, but we really started to realize how tainted the travel experience could be if you never got off the beaten traveler path. Luckily before we hit the road again we were able to grab an incredibly humbling Yoga class (Ouch!) at the hostel across the street, and I was able to catch a couple great waves off the point break at Coffee Beach. Outside the chaos of the Coffee Shack, Coffee Bay is incredible. The water was almost too clear. I kept catching glimpses of large dark masses under the surface, and by the time I figured out they were rocks instead of sharks, the waves would blindside me in the ear hole. The best part was hanging with a pod of about 30 dolphins that were trying to catch waves just as the sun was coming up. Incredible!

7/17/03 to 7/20/03: With two used longboards strapped to the roof, two friends in the back, and some "Creatively purchased" auto insurance in our pockets, we pointed the cruiser South and bade farewell to our Durban home. It didn't really matter that we were only driving 40 k's South, because we were getting OUT of Durban, and the Beast was purring like a kitten after it's reconstructive exhaust surgery. When we pulled into Umkamas, we were as prepared as usual. No clue where we were, no clue how to get where we were going, no place to stay, and almost no gas. After an incredible roast Hake meal, we stumbled upon "Aliwal Shoal Adventures", a new, and amazingly fun hostel about 2 blocks from some of the best diving in the world (Aliwal Shoal is supposedly a top 10 dive site). The entire town was in one of pubs watching the South Africa/New Zealand rugby match, but we tracked down Sean, the coolest hostel owner/dive instructor ever, inbetween pints two blocks down. Things have worked out so well, I'm starting to think planning just takes the fun out of travel! After a long night of international drinking games, we geared up and jumped our boat through the surf en route to my fifth dive ever. Luckily Shannon and the rest of our group knew what they were doing, because the current at Aliwal is intense. It can move you 15 feet one way and 10 feet back in a couple seconds so it's crucial to keep one eye on your partner and one eye on the reef. After about 35 minutes of manta rays, puffer fish, and sardine schools, a pod of about twenty dolphins decided to swim by to say hi. Talk about blown away. I think I drained about a 1/4 of my tank in 3 minutes. There are also a ton of sharks in the area, but I'm kind of glad we missed them since I'll be surfing over their feeding ground tomorrow. Every once in a while it hits me. I'm on the other side of the planet from the place I spent 27 years of my life. Look at a globe. It's nuts. I miss you all a TON. You know what's ironic? No matter where you go, there you are. I struggle to live in the moment here just as much as I have anywhere I've ever lived. I keep thinking of my Mom's advice a couple months before I left..."Nothing you can see with your eyes can fix you on the inside". Maybe the key is the accept the fact that life's a little crazy, I'm a little crazy, you're a little crazy, and all of this is exactly as it should be...

7/17/03: After spending the night in the parking "Field" of a middle-of-nowhere hostel in Eastern Lesotho (We were the only guests they'd had in LONG while), we set out for the final leg of our Drakensburg/Lesotho adventure...the Sani Pass. Besides being the home of the "Highest Pub in Africa", the Sani Pass is the only road connecting the Lesotho to the Natal region of South Africa. About 45 minutes after leaving the hostel, and about 30 minutes after seeing our last human face, we hear a huge boom under the hood. My adrenaline was definitely pumping at this point. We had no idea where we were, no phone, and enough water to last about 4 hours. After about 5 minutes of wiggling wires and staring at an engine I have no idea how to fix, I notice that our exhaust pipe is no longer attached to our engine (It snapped about 6 inches below the carbuerator). The good news is we can keep going. The bad news is the Beast now sounds like a Harley Davidson next to 1000 watt microphone (POP-BOOM-POP-BOOM-POP-BOOM-POP-BOOM-POP). For the next 30 kilometers the only animals we saw were the terrified sheep and cows running from our rolling machine gun. When we finally reached the pass, we realized that we were going to get a chance to test out the 4WD capabilities of the Beast a lot earlier than expected. Imagine a 5 mile long Lombard Street, complete with hairpin turns, 25 switchbacks, loose gravel, and shade-concealed ice patches. Nice! As you probably figured out by the fact that I'm writing about this adventure...we made it. Right now the Beast is back in the shop for another round of repairs and Shannon is resting her ankle in our favorite Durban hangout, the Banana Backpackers. On a different note, after a couple weeks of shopping, I finally stepped up and bought a nine foot long board (Fat kid triple stringer model) for the drive to Capetown. Since the water's going to get colder as we move South, I picked up a full wetsuit too. With the travel bag and leash thrown in for good measure, I'm sure the surf shop dude is laughing all the way to the bank. The waves are supposed to be pretty intense once we leave the protection of Durban's bay, so we'll see how many teeth I have in a couple weeks.

7/16/03: With Shannon's ankle wrapped up tight and prescription Aleve pumping through her veins, we headed the Beast towards the mountain kingdom of Lesotho. Lesotho is a poverty stricken, but starkly independent country completely surrounded by South Africa. Years of fighting brutal weather and the imperial efforts of colonial Europe have made the people incredibly strong and incredibly proud. As we dodged 3 foot potholes and continually downshifted to tackle the 20%+ grades, we were taken back by the people in this forgotten land. Almost every village is made of stacked stone houses with stick and grass roofs. The dented, corrugated metal doors were blackened by the cooking fires that never seemed to go out. The red rubber boots, tiny schools, and run down churches are the moving footprints of the several missionaries and volunteers that are at work in this region. Since vehicles are a luxury 90% of these people can't afford, children came racing towards the cruiser as soon as they heard us coming. Our arms were perpetually waving at everyone, but they're smiles and enthusiasm made it hard to stop. Who knows what they were thinking. Maybe they were mad because we weren't throwing coins and candy from our windows like some other South Africans. Maybe they were laughing because they figured there was no way a couple rookie Americans were ever going to make it down the Sani Pass (One of the highest, toughest, 4WD trails in South Africa). Maybe they were happy to see a new smiling face on their deserted road. I wonder what I would have been thinking if someone came cruising down my street in Talmage California (Circa 1983) because they were curious how back woods hippy children lived. The reactions of the hundreds of people were definitely mixed. If I were in their shoes, would I resent a couple of American tourists with goofy smiles and waving hands? Is there really any way to know what it's like to live their lives? To walk 30 miles a day herding cattle or searching for firewood? To plant maize on the side of road knowing that one bad crop could starve my family? I'm sure our friends in the Peace Corps have some idea, but I sure don't. Since we'll be passing through most of the communities on our trip, I don't think we'll get too far past the surface. I guess that's good and bad, but I found myself longing to learn more, to help more, to do something besides just gawk. I know this is just the beginning, but I'm looking forward to digging a little deeper next time...

7/14/03 to 7/16/03: When faced with the choice between staying in Durban for who-knows-how-many nights trying to figure out international car insurance, and charging the Drakensburg (Dragon) mountains, we decided to risk it and roll out. The Drakensburg mountain range is a cross between the sheer cliff faces of the Grand Canyon and the rough tundra from "Out of Africa". I had trouble keeping the Beast on the road as incredible vista after incredible vista sped past our shatterproof windows. When we settled in for our first night "Camping" in parking lot of Amphitheatre hostel, we were pleasantly surprised to find out that 6 incredibly fun Johannesburg locals and one traveling teacher from England were planning to hike the same "Sentinel" trail that we were. After some great arguments about whether South African chauvenism (sp?) attracts or repels women, we knew the 9 of us were going to get along just fine. After force feeding some petrol down the Beast's carburator (sp?) to help it overcome the cold morning jitters, we headed for one of the best day hikes in the Northern Drakensburgs. As we climbed higher and higher, the views I had enjoyed the day before lost their lustre. The immensity and chisled edges of the mountains in front of us were a postcard maker's dream. After about 2 hours of steady climbing, Shannon and I were reminded how out of shape we both were. Luckily our seven other buddies weren't much better off, so it was all good. Just as we summitted at the 4th highest waterfall in the world (Highest in Africa), Shannon rolled her ankle in the worst way. She made it sound like it was no big deal as she soaked her swollen foot in ice-covered water, but it was obvious that the 3 hour hike back the Cruiser was not going to be the funnest part of the trip. With two different types of bandages on her and 3 different drugs in her, we headed for the 120 foot long, 80 year old chain ladders at the face of the mountain. We let the rest of the crew pass us up since they had to get on the road, and we stumbled and stomped our way down the rock covered trail until the moon was the only thing guiding us home. The greatest part of the whole adventure was finding out that all seven of our hiking partners had waited over 2 hours at the bottom of the mountain to make sure we made it. These people are incredible!

7/10/03 to 7/13/03: As Shannon and I soon found out, paying for a vehicle in South Africa is about the ONLY easy part of owning one. After about 9 hours in various lines (3+ hours wasted in the wrong ones), 6 different forms that no one looks at, 4 trips to the licensing office in the middle of nowhere, 2 photos from a garage photographer, 2 new license plates made by hand, 5 different fees, and one new South African ID, we emerged victorious with the official South African title to "The Beast". After Hillary, our local Durban mechanical guru, worked his magic on the "Roadworthy Correction sheet" (You need a "Roadworthy Certificate" to cross any border, and the Beast needed a couple repairs to pass), we got on the phone with Budget insurance to finalize what we thought was the easiest step in the process....WRONG! Apparently "Somewhere between Namibia, Botswana, Zambia, Tanzania, and Kenya", doesn't pass as a permanent address, so Budget gave us the big thumbs down on any sort of insurance. We're still working on this one, but at least we have a rolling RV/4WD that works! Fortunately we did find some fun things to do besides enjoying this streamlined process. The "India Street Market" is a must see for any Durban visitor. Once you get past the stench coming off the piles of severed sheep heads and dryed antelope feet, there are some incredible crafts and souveniers worth checking out. On our last night in Durban I checked out the huge beach concert put on by the Mr. Price Pro Surf Contest (Formerly the Ganston 500) and was blown away by the quality of the music (Tree 63 was headlining) and passion of the crowd. No one really liked having a 6'6" American with a cheesy hat standing in front of them, so I had no choice but to charge the mosh pit. Mental note: Slam dancing in South African sand is WAY safer than bouncing off asphalt in Pacific Beach.

Well it looks like our dreams of "Overlanding" through the bush might actually come true. A couple days ago Shannon noticed a posting on the hostel wall..."Perfect Safari Vehicle - 1984 Land Cruiser - Fully Equipped". To this point we had semi-postponed the idea of buying a vehicle based on high prices, questionable products, and complete inexperience with the process. As a fallback plan, we were considering buying surfboards and surfing our way down the southeast coast of Capetown using public transportation. This plan was safe, easy, and cheap, but there was a lingering feeling in both of our minds that this might not be the African experience we envisioned when we jumped on the plane for Johannesburg. Well today, our plans may have completely changed once again. When we met Scott and Carol, the Canadian couple that had just finished almost the exact route we are considering, we felt instantly comfortable. After a couple hours of conversation and questions about the vehicle, we headed out for a test drive. For my wrench-head buddies back home, here's the breakdown of what's included in the deal: Land Cruiser FJ45 with a 4.2 Litre gas engine, heavy duty Ramsay winch, 6 new tires, custom built wagon with three roof hatches (Supposedly it was originally used in a gold mining operation and guys with machine guns hung out the top when they were tranferring their booty), dual battery system, drop down windshield, immobilizer and kill switch (Theft deterrants), tons of spare parts, full stereo system with AM/FM/Short Ware radio and cassette, CADAC gas stove, three fuel cans, camp chairs, lantern, water jugs, ice chests, shovels and full cooking utensils. Needless to say, Shannon and I blew our negotiation leverage by getting a little too excited about how perfect this vehicle was for our trip. It's even white like Bessie and Roxy, my last two vehicles (Good karma). We did manage to mellow out long enough to work out a good deal with our new Canadian friends, who we may end up meeting in Australia or South America since they're still in the first part of their year round tour. Tomorrow morning we're meeting up to finalize the paperwork and transfer the funds, but for all intensive purposes, we're now officially South African car owners! Nuts huh? Today Shannon and I also agreed that we should probably map out our next couple months a little better so we don't completely drift through the entire African experience without maximizing our time here. The rough plan will probably still include surfing down the garden route (There's a Billabong world surfing event in Jeffrey's Bay from 7/15 to 7/25), hanging out in Capetown, followed by some sort of loop through Namibia, Botswana, Zambia, Tanzania, Zimbabwe, and Mozambique. We're still not sure if we'll make it to Kenya considering the political situation there, but we'll make the call when we get further north. One way or another, the trip has taken an exciting, scary, fun, risky, and freedom enhancing turn today...and it's still sinking in...

For those of you who are tired of reading about abstract films that you may never see, I apologize. Feel free to skip to some of the more light hearted entries above or below this one. This past week in Durban has been an crazy balance between Western extravagance and brutal, urban reality. After getting beat up in 6 foot waves and enjoying a chicken wrap at "Nando's", the South African version of Chipotle, I head back to Hostel to find out the German couple that checked last night got mugged by three locals less than a block away. Then I stumble into the Human Rights Film festival and I am reminded once again of the irony of the situation. It's like we're walking on a thin layer of peace, prosperity, and fun, while the poverty, fury, and deception is boiling just inches below our feet. I'm not sure what the "Real" Durban is all about, but I'm thankful to be here and I'm sure that I'm experiencing all the faces of this city for a reason. As far as the film on Zibabwe goes, it raised another one of those lose-lose challenges that seem to be everywhere down here. This filmmaker was there, and I found his comments after the movie way more thought provoking than the feature itself. Zimbabwe started was a British colony until a little over 20 years ago, when they pulled off a successful rebellion and put on their first democratic election. Robert Mondave (sp?) has been in power ever since, and things seem to have gotten progressively worse. Inflation is out of control, war veterans have seized land from white farmers, unemployment is over 60%, none of the gas stations have gas, and the list goes on and on. The focus of the film was on land reform and the corruption behind the 2002 elections. Over the past couple years as frustration in the country has grown, the opposition party, the MDC (Backed heavily by the "West") , has gained power and a large following. A couple years ago, after Robert Mondave encouraged war veterans to "Take back" land from white farmers who had been there for 75 years and longer, the West became even more interested in seeing him lose the 2002 election. So what is "Land Reform" anyway? Some would say it's communism. It's a process of re-distributing land, or taking it away from people that have a lot, and giving it to people that have a little. Think back to the Oaklahoma Sooners, the Homestead Act, and other forms of "Land Reform" in the US. That was our way of land reform, give it to whoever could develop and defend it. What is the right way to do it? Should it even be done? South Africa has the same problem as Zimbabwe. A VERY small percentage of the population controls all the land, and the rest of the population is in poverty. Whose land is it anyway? You could say that the "Colonials" took the land away from the locals 75 years ago, and just decide to take it back, but then you're faced with angry international investors, chaos, and major industry pulling out. What's really frustrating is that even when the poor have been given land for subsistence farming (3 to 5 acre parcels), they are frequently unable to make it work for them. They don't have the money for seeds, irrigation, fertilizer, equipment, and everything else it takes to make a farm successful. It's as if land has become more of symbol of the frustration of the masses, rather than something that the people could actually live off. What does successful land reform look like? Everyone has matching 5 acre parcels where they grow just enough to feed their families? No exports? No profits? No industry? Just survival? What is the real issue behind Land Reform? I'm not sure, but it's an incredibly hot topic all over Africa. It was integral to the 2002 election in Zimbabwe, where Mondave won, mostly due to brutal indimidation of the MDC supporters, but none of the issues have gone away. One of the most interesting topics brought up in the forum after the film was the argument that the real reason why the MDC lost was because the West was second guessing and controlling the MDC's position on all of the key issues. Since the right wing, conservative West didn't want to be associated with any controversial position on any of the hot issues, the MDC was left struggling for identity. Since the MDC couldn't sway the sources of it's financial life blood, it failed to inspire the people, and it lost it's one chance to make real change. This was just one speaker's opinion, but it got me thinking. Don't worry, I haven't fallen off the deep end yet, and I love the United States more than you can possibly imagine. I'm extremely grateful for everything we enjoy in "The West" and I strongly believe that people don't make poor decisions on purpose. The path to hell is paved with good intensions right? What's crazy is that everyone wants to be understood, but no one is trying to understand. We assume we know why people do the things they do, and we assume the worst. Then we get frustrated and we try to make them pay for what they did. It's like we always skip the trial, skip the jury, and jump right to the conviction. Do we know what Robert Mondave knew when he told the troops it was OK to take land from the white farmers? Do we know what the West knew when it was controlling the policies of the MDC? Do we know what it's like to grow up poor and hungry in Zimbabwe, surrounded by weath that is rubbed your face? Do we know what it's like to be Nelson Mandela, faced with high unemployement, the aids pandemic, the debt run up by the Aparteid government, rampant crime, devastating pollution, internal corruption, and the unbelievably high expectations of a people that have put all their hopes and dreams on his back? I would say the answer to all these questions is NO, but it's way too easy to have an opinion about it all. It's not that having an opinion is bad, it's just uneducated opinions that are starting to get on my nerves. I guess I'm starting to get on my own nerves then, because I have a ton of opinions, almost no education. As soon as I think my eyes are open, they get opened even further. As soon as I think I'm humble, I get humbled. I know there's a point where you have to gather what you know, and take a side, but I'm learning how important it is to ask a couple more questions before I make up my mind. Before I condemn decisions I know nothing about. It's tough though, because it's way too easy to whine, bitch, and moan about the way it should be while you kick back in front the glowing box in your comfort zone. As I was sitting in the middle of the room at the film festival, I did my best to contain the hopeless feeling that was creeping over me. What could be done? Africa isn't the only place with problems. There are things that could be better in every town in every country on every continent. How do you get someone to care about something that does directly impact them? Does it have to be in "Your Back Yard" before you decide to do anything about it? It's so easy to fade into the background, to convince yourself that someone else will take care of it, to re-assure yourself that you just don't have the time. What's crazy is that the most successful people and the most unsuccessful people both get the same gift every day. A check for 24 hours that they can spend anywhere they want. I think I need to start paying way more attention to my spending habits...

The second documentary of the film festival wasn't abstract at all. It was directly to the point, and while it was very slanted towards one point of view, it raised a number of difficult problems. South Durban is the home of some of the largest chemical plants in all of South Africa. Oil refineries, paper mills, paint manufacturing plants, you name it. Almost all of them are based in America or Europe (The West), and they provide tons of jobs, tax revenue and financial support for a country and a government that needs all the help it can get. Unfortunately, all of this industrial prosperity comes with a pricetag. According to the film, the Leukemia levels in the surrounding towns are 24 times the national average. Almost 50% of the kids in the elementary schools have asthsma (sp?). The benzine levels in the air are 5 times worse than a 5 lane freeway at rush hour in Detroit, and those are just the air problems. There are major pipelines feeding the main Shell oil refinery and they are all leaking. What has everyone fired up is that not much is being done about it. This isn't the US and there aren't many Erin Brockovich's hanging out in Durban. Even though the underground pipelines weren't installed with all the safety equipment that is always used in the "West" and the chemical emissions are way higher than any US or European plant, the chemical companies are claiming that they're lily white, and the new government is stuck in the middle. Do they fine or over-regulate the companies and frustrate investors, possibly jeopordizing the financial future of South Africa? Do they ignore the townspeople and risk riots, poor publicity, and possibly losing the next election? What's more important? Jobs & economic growth, or clear air and heathly children? I know it's not that simple. My good friends at DPR would say that I'm stuck in the "Tyranny of the Or" rather than the "Genius of the And". What I'm learning is that there are no black and white problems. There arent any easy answers. Everything is grey. There aren't all that many truly "win-win" situations. Someone always seems to lose, if not everyone. I haven't completely lost my optimism though. The passion in the room at the film festival was incredible. The filmmaker from "Dying to Breathe" was there to answer questions and even though things got heated, the overall attitude was one of action. Several of the people in the room feel like South Africans have become complacent since the 1994 elections (When Mandela took power) and they were fired up about using movies and media to help raise awareness and draw attention to the plethora of problems facing this nation. If the squeekiest wheel gets the oil, I have a feeling some oil might be headed to South Durban sooner than later...

6/28/03 to 7/1/03: Over the past couple days we've met some incredible people and I think I'm starting to crack into what this trip is all about. It all started one evening while I was hanging out, reading a great booked called "Catfish and Mandala", on the balcony of the hostel. An American Professor (Professor Robert) from a small New York college came out to enjoy the evening and asked if I wanted to join him for a human rights film festival at a church in inner city Durban. I jumped at the chance to break out of my "mini-San Diego" lifestyle and the trip hasn't been the same since. I'm probably exhaggerating a little, but it was incredible. The first film was about the AIDS pandemic, and even though it was pretty abstract, it opened my eyes to a couple new insights. Here's a couple key world wide facts for you (The stats might be a year out of date): Over 15,000 people catch AIDS every day. There are 13 million orphans of AIDS. 22 million people have died of AIDS so far. Crazy huh? The movie definitely made me think. How many gay friends to I have? How many people do I know have AIDS, or have died of AIDS? Not many. How about you? Do we all have to be personally impacted before it starts to really matter to us? I don't think so, but sometimes it feels that way. It's the whole NIMBY (Not in My Back Yard) paradigm in action. I'm a little long winded today, so I'll break up the rest of the films into their own entries.