Siyabonga

Having neglected blog duties for the last two weeks I have much to report. A week ago we were very generously put up for a night at Hluhluwe River Lodge by Aunt Annie and Uncle Peter. Both were on top form – albeit in their very different ways.

Travelling to the lodge I had some apprehension about how we would fill our time. Having put forward a number of options for activities to my Aunt, none seemed to appeal to my very open minded Uncle. My trump card was a game drive round the world famous nearby Game Park. What could possibly be disagreeable about sitting on a game drive vehicle, surveying the beautiful countryside, birds and animals? But no. Apparently this would bore and reduce time spent at far more interesting watering holes.

Fortunately, we managed to identify an ideal afternoon activity that would ideally suit my uncle. Horse riding to the nearby lake for a drink at sunset. With great relief we all walked off to find a stable companion. And off we headed into the bush. Everyone extremely happy.

Having ridden for a couple of hours we reached our destination. There with a big grin was Uncle Peter – drink in hand and unsaddled from his chrome nag.

The evening was spent out on a deck under the stars recounting our stories about life in a rural South African hospital and school. It also provided an opportunity to pass on some basic Zulu to my inquisitive Uncle. Latching onto the word for ‘thank you’ (siyabonga) he immediately developed great confidence with the locals. This was continued throughout the stay. Attempts to speak other words were less successful; so instead words like ‘adios’ began to appear.

During the evening, my darling aunt organised for the following day, an hour long plane ride over the local scenery. And thus, Mary and I were able to go to sleep dreaming of recreating a favourite cinematic scene – Redford and Streep flying over the Kenyan bush.

In the morning we said goodbye to Peter (happy not to come having fallen asleep last time he took a sight seeing flight). The airfield was located in the middle of Phinda National Park. Teaming with animals we were able to spot giraffes, wildebeests and elephants taking off and landing. Once in the air, we flew across the biggest salt water and fresh water lakes in South Africa. As we flew over these we could count dozens of hippos parked together in different parts of the water. And we then headed along the coast. Looking down we spotted schools of dolphins diving in and out of the Indian Ocean.

The Out of Africa re-enactment was completed as we flew over the coastline. There it was, that the pilot asked if I would like to take control of the plane. And so, with a great sense of excitement, I began to manoeuvre our bird like machine. First a tip of the wing left to look down into the sea. Then a tip of the left wing to observe the coastline. Pushing the steering wheel away took us downwards a hundred feet. And then almost immediately, I pulled it back to soar up again. Turning to share my delight with my wife and aunt I was just in time to see Mary vomit several times into her reinforced (thank you Aunt Annie) sick bag. Guiltily I handed back the controls. There ended the flying lesson.

Despite the vomit moment, the flight now belongs on our list of top moments in SA.

Sadly we were unable to host Annie and Peter in Ingwavuma (as had been the plan). This was a particular disappointment to the locals, many of whom had been given advanced notice of the visit of a great English chief and his wife. Tales of his wonderful grasp of the local language will, though, live on.