Rights and wrongs

We often feel as if we lead double lives in SA. During the week we see many examples of people desperately struggling to cope with the realities of abject poverty. Then at weekends we disappear off to enjoy one or other extraordinary location. Sometimes the clash is contrast is particularly shocking.

Last week at school we ran out of water. It has been extremely hot (about 40 degrees) in the last couple of weeks and hasn’t rained much. We have been without water from our tap since the beginning of the year. Without tap water, the children rely entirely on the JoJos for drinking and washing. On Thursday our supply of rain water ran out. The same day, a nearby water source also dried up. Worse still, we also ran out of toilet paper.

Without water the school ‘ladies’ explained that they would also not be able to cook for the children. A number of our children are orphans and receive one meal a day.

And so we faced the prospect of dangerously unsanitary conditions and desperately thirsty and hungry children.

Fortunately, the ladies were able to get water the following day. I was also able to bring 50 litres down from Mosvold in the back of my car. Meaning that we had enough for cooking, washing and drinking. And I can now bring the same amount of water each day until a weather change.

Nevertheless, the episode highlighted the complete absence of emergency contingency plans in the area. There seems to be no telephone number to ring to report the problem. Nobody to contact to find a solution. Instead each community is left to cope as best they can. Until such help exists, the theoretical rights of the children (that they learn about in Life Orientation classes when studying the South African Constitution) will remain very meaningless.

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.

Only in Africa

Have a look at this story from the BBC website - Africa section. Your challenge is to read it and to keep a straight face.

The article

Two of Malawi's most senior judicial officials are arguing over whether a new bill includes a provision that outlaws breaking wind in public.

Justice Minister George Chaponda says the new bill would criminalise flatulence to promote "public decency".

"Just go to the toilet when you feel like farting," he told local radio.

However, he was directly contradicted by Solicitor General Anthony Kamanga, who says the reference to "fouling the air" means pollution.

"How any reasonable or sensible person can construe the provision to criminalising farting in public is beyond me," he said, adding that the prohibition contained in the new law has been in place since 1929.

The Local Courts Bill, to be introduced next week reads: "Any person who vitiates the atmosphere in any place so as to make it noxious to the public to the health of persons in general dwelling or carrying on business in the neighbourhood or passing along a public way shall be guilty of a misdemeanour."

Mr Chaponda, a trained lawyer, insists that this includes farting.

"Would you be happy to see people farting anyhow?" he asked on the popular "Straight Talk" programme on Malawi's Capital Radio.

He said that local chiefs would deal with any offenders.

When asked whether it could be enforced, he said it would be similar to laws banning urinating in public.'


What price MR Cameron responding to the story by calling for a national debate in the UK. Might the idea be a vote winner? I'm certainly a supporter of Chapondaism.

Ntabayengwe, T20 and Russian Romance

It is Friday and I have just completed the second week of the new school year. I have the following to report:

1. I am enjoying teaching my top year group – year 7. I taught them last year and many have made good progress. They tolerate my eccentricities and try hard.

2. I am haing a much tougher time with grade 6. Most are shy and very reluctant to contribute. And a couple have behaviour that belongs in an English school.

3. The Principal continues to amuse me. At the end of the last week I had a free period and was reading in his ‘office’. Midway through the Russian revolution (I am onto my last book – Dr Zhivago) he asked if I could hear the noise,

‘What noise, Mr Mkumbusi?’
‘The sound of the young hyenas calling.’
‘No, I cannot hear them.’
‘Listen carefully.’
‘I still cannot hear them.’
‘Eish Mr Toulson. I am not being serious. Can you not hear the grade r children howling for their mothers? How we all must suffer!’

4. I am making progress in organising a school trip to the beach. The education department policy document requires me to set up several committees. Rather than doing this I have produced a couple of sets of fictitious minutes. These give due consideration to the ridiculous guide lines on safety precautions. One section reminds trip coordinators that not all areas in SA have mobile phone reception. Thus alternative means of emergency communication should be considered. I am still wondering what they have in mind.

5. We lost our first – T20 – cricket match of the year. We spent a couple of afternoons this week training. All toiled hard under the midday son. And I promised the boys that their hard work would be rewarded.

Opting to bat first, we suffered several early wicket losses. Fortunately our steely middle order offered resistance and we ended up posting a competitive 43 run total.

Taking early key opposition wickets, confidence grew among Ntabayengwe. Only for their coach to insist on a suicidal ‘everyone must bowl strategy’. The unforgiving umpire (also their coach) then proceeded to award the opposition nearly 30 no ball/wides.

A string of sporting clichés helped to reduce the disappointment on the faces of the Ntabayengwe boys at the end. As compensation for my part in their downfall, I have promised to arrange another match soon.

This weekend

Away from school, Mary is on call this weekend. So we have nothing exciting planned. I foresee a weekend of Siberian love and romance.

Ingwavuma Buffalo

The last couple of weekends have brought us very close encounters with two of Africa’s biggest animals.

A number of the local safari parks run animal projects. Sometimes these focus on the observation or reintroduction of an endangered species. For example, Tembe Elephant Park has just released a number of African Wild Dogs into their park. These have been eradicated from most of the parks in SA. And hence conservationists are trying to intervene. Success will depend on their ability to coexist with the lions in the park. This will require them to learn, very quickly, to stay clear of the king.*

Another local park is looking after two injured elephants – one male and one female. Both elephants narrowly escaped a culling programme in Zimbabwe. Their rescue as youngsters familiarised them with humans. They now live a nearly wild existence. They roam free with other seven tonne wonders happily grazing, sleeping, fighting and mating. But, each morning they come to a specific location in anticipation of some treats. Last weekend, we were able to go to the park and feed them.

On arrival, we were greeted by the sight of the two elephants waiting for food. And they had a surprise for us. For between them was a new addition. A nine month old baby. Their baby.

So began an hour of elephant indulgence. Holding food in our hands we watched as two of the elephants used superb trunk control to transfer large quantities of oats to their mouths. After a while of this, the elephants were commanded to stick out their tongues. Being very obedient, they did as asked. And so we put hundreds more pellets straight into their mouths. Jubulani, the calf, was less adept at using his trunk or at showing his tongue. He spilled much and consumed little. But fortunately he has a much smaller belly. And he still receives gallons of milk from mum. So his messy eating will not hinder his growth.

Almost exactly on the hour mark, having been given water, the elephants disappeared back into the bush.

This weekend we headed to a very secluded part of the coast for a weekend at a place called Thonga Lodge (only look it up if you want to feel extremely depressed). Used to trying to stay at places far out of our budget, Mosvold Doctors have become great hustlers. And so we were able to spend a night in luxury. Situated by a pristine beach, the Lodge is 100 metres from the ridiculously warm Indian Ocean (only truly appreciated if you began swimming on holidays in North Wales). A couple of miles away lies the biggest freshwater lake – Lake Sibiya in Southern Africa. Full of hippos, crocs and birdlife.

On Saturday evening, we drove to the shores of LS to enjoy sundowners (drinks consumed when watching the sun go down; isn’t South African English complicated.) Driving around, our guide looked for the perfect location. This took time. First we had to stop to watch an immature Fish Eagle eating the remains of its supper. Eventually we found a spot 15 metres from the water edge. The perfect location to watch hippos playing in the water.

There we sat enjoying the sunset. And the scene must have looked idyllic. For after not very long, we heard splashing in the water. And out came a hippo, keen to mow the grass in front of us.

Now ten metres from a hippo is less than the recommended safety distance. For, as everyone knows, the hippo is the mammal that kills most humans in Africa each year. And for this reason we were right to feel scared. But we were not in great danger. Firstly our vehicle was close-by to us. Secondly, we were not between the hippo and the water – an extremely dangerous predicament. Lastly, the hippo was completely oblivious to us. For though they have excellent hearing and smell, they can see less well than Mary (who, without contacts, struggles to see me lying beside her in bed; she, too, relies on hearing and smell).

For two or three minutes our hippo merrily chomped the grass. And then suddenly it heard a noise. In blind terror of meeting an animal larger than itself (something that can’t happen often for hippos) it turned and bounded into the water. Leaving all of us very touched by its great sensitivity.

Having previously walked with rhinos and lion cubs, we now have one last close encounter to engineer. The buffalo. But neither of us is overly keen. We think we might settle instead for the dopey Ingwavuman cow. We’ve passed them many times. And on a cloudy day they look vaguely buffaloesque. Time to fabricate a photo.

Bumper cars

Another depressing discussion topic in SA is road safety. I happened to buy a paper yesterday in Spar (in fact I was forced to buy it; I was told to wait ten minutes before being served at the meat counter; so I browsed a daily; apparently this is not allowed).

One of the articles in ‘The New Age’ was about road traffic accidents. Statistics have just been published on accidents and driving offences over the month of December across the country. They are chastening. Put simply, SA is by far the most dangerous place to drive in Africa (and therefore the world?). As evidence, it has 20% of the cars on the continent but 60% of road accidents.

The most terrifying time to drive in the country is over the Christmas period. This year the number killed over the month of December was 1551 or about 50 people everyday. This number does not include all those seriously and permanently injured. The only good news is that this represented a fall from the previous year – 1761. The highest rate of deaths this year was in our province – 232 or about 8 per day.

It is not difficult to explain the reasons for the massive number of fatalities. The first, and most obvious, is the level of driving proficiency of many behind the wheel. Every journey we make is littered with near hits. Overtaking manoeuvres are regularly undertaken on the brow of a hill, round a blind corner or in spite of fast approaching on coming vehicles. Around Ingwavuma, we drive on mountainous roads with tight sharp corners. Drivers often seem unaware of the need to slow down for bends and so swing across the road. Estimates are that 80% of all accidents are due to driver error.

Thus bad driving is one big contributory factor. Poor visibility (particularly bad on some days in the mountains that surround us) and pot holes (especially craterous in KZN) are estimated to account for 8% of accidents.

Another big cause is unroadworthy cars. Understandably vehicles have much longer lives here. Though all of them should receive annual MOTs, many do not. For this is expensive. Many are old pick-up trucks. They can often be seen transporting 10-15 people – most standing up in the back. The doctors at Mosvold regularly treat patients who have fallen out the back.

The final noxious ingredient is drink driving. I’m told that motorist in the cities are randomly breathalysed. But it doesn’t happen in rural areas. As a result, there is little concern in rural KZN about driving under the influence.

And so we can now formulate the equation. Bad driving, bad roads, bad vehicles and alcohol = 1551 dead in December.

If the first stage of the solution is recognising the problem, then SA is making progress. Indeed, as already mentioned, they have reduced the number of road deaths from this time last year. And the police focus particularly hard on the problem. But the challenge is huge. Over December they stopped one and a half million motorist. One third of these were found to have violated the Road Traffic Act.

All of this has two consequences for us. Firstly, we wear our seat belts. Secondly, we are after a good medical kit for the car. Thus far, Mary has yet to be first on the scene for any road accidents – though we have stopped at many. This is almost certain to change.

Anyway, next blog entry I promise to write about something cheery.

Vile-ence

Having spent nearly six months in Ingwavuma, Mary and I have been completely won over by the people and the setting. We feel great warmth from the wider community. And, while remaining cautious, we feel safe when out and about. However, even in rural KZN, violence remains frighteningly frequent.

One of the most depressing aspects to working as a doctor at Mosvold, is the workload generated by sexual violence. Gang rape and attacks on minors seem to be particularly prevalent. Presented with the victim, the doctors investigate physical evidence of the crime on their body. The police then search for the perpetrator. The police have a good reputation for catching those responsible. Their work is visible to the doctors because the accused are regularly brought to the hospital for DNA testing. (This also presumably explains why so many rape victims come forward.) Nonetheless the assaults continue.

The depth of the problem is massive. A recent article in The Guardian Weekly contained details of a survey by the Medical Research Council. In this, 28% of men from KZN admitted to rape. In Gauteng (the wealthiest province) the rate is even higher at 37.4%.

This violence has its roots in rotten gender attitudes. These were also investigated in the survey. Of those asked, 55% of men thought that rape within marriage was a crime. Over 30% considered the promiscuity of a woman to be relevant in the assessment of whether rape had taken place.

Unfortunately, efforts to combat the problem currently seem doomed to fail. If there are public campaigns they are not heard in Ingwavuma or other rural areas. Very few people have access to the media.

Sadly, what is well known, even here, is that the President was accused of rape and acquitted. It is also common knowledge that his defence was partly built on provocation – the female involved was wearing a certain type of cloth. (Incredibly, Zuma also revealed under cross-examination that he had taken no precautions despite the lady having HIV. He felt it unlikely that a healthy man could contract HIV. He also had a shower afterwards.) Guilty or not, it makes public pronouncements on the issue by the ANC somewhat awkward.

The principal/only real vehicle for change is the education system. Written into the text books are lessons on achieving gender equality. These try to challenge traditional views. However their success depends firstly upon having an enlightened teacher. Otherwise they can easily be skipped. Secondly, they depend upon the school reinforcing the message within the school ethos. Does the school, for example, expect all the children to sweep the classroom floors or just the females. Finally, the lessons need to withstand contradictory messages being received at home.

Perhaps the education system can help to win the battle in the long-term. But not before many more badly injured women have been treated at Mosvold.