Juxtapositions

This morning, at breakfast, I met a doctor from Harvard who is here for a month, working at one of the hospitals. This is not uncommon. Apparently, this bed & breakfast is well known among the medical professionals who travel to Durban, which is why I myself know of it. My mentor stays here when she travels to Durban for conferences and such. In any case, this doctor was expecting a medical student friend of his who had also recently arrived to Durban to begin her Fogarty. He had lived in Durban for a little under a year in the past and had visited numerous times since then so he was well acquainted with the city and was planning on taking his friend on a “longish stroll” through the city. When he invited me to join, I gladly did.

For the next five or so hours, we strolled across the entire length of Durban and then….trudged all the way back across. (The switchedge of verbs should convey to you exactly how we felt upon finally arriving back home to the B &B). It was, all in all, an excellent introduction to Durban. There really is no better way to get to know a place than by simply walking it. And walk it we did. We first walked northeast to the center of Durban and then through the bustling, somewhat dicey area known as the “CBD” or the Central Business District. I didn’t bring my camera on this long walk, mostly because I was unsure of how safe it would be to be snapping pictures through the part of town where pickpocketers are said to be rampant. However, I sorely wish I had. I will definitely go back and record the streets where vendors juxtaposed fresh bell peppers and oranges with trinkets, shoes and clothes.

The CBD was especially appealing to me, however, because our wonderful guide chose to have us stop for lunch at his favorite Indian eatery in town. It was a purely vegetarian establishment and was, in a word, delicious. I again, wished at that moment for my camera so that I could attach a picture of the meal that the three of us feasted on for less than 10 American dollars. Since I can’t attach pictures at this time, I’ll instead detour into a historical side point and explain as best as I understand so far, the social phenomenon of Indians in Durban and South Africa. Feel free to skip the next paragraph if history does not interest you much. As a former history major (of sorts) in college, I am easily fascinated by these stories.

Durban and South Africa itself is said to have the largest population of Indians outside of India in the world, and it shows. There seem to be just as many people who look to be of Indian heritage in Durban as there are black South Africans and at my first glance, maybe even more than there are white South Africans. According to my internet self-education, Indian slaves were first brought to South Africa as far back as the 17^th century. However, it wasn’t until the mid 1800s that they began to appear in greater numbers in what is now South Africa. It was a migration based on indentured servitude, similar to their migration to the Caribbean (another story, another time). Slowly over the course of that century, many chose to extend their servitude and thus grant the ability to stay in what later became Kwazulu-Natal, the region in which Durban is located. With the increasing number of Indian immigrants and then South African born children of Indian immigrants, many began trying to grant them greater rights and access to services, including medical and legal. Most famous among those who fought for Indian rights within South African society is the revered Mahatma Gandhi, who arrived in Durban at the turn of the 19^th century. I will return to Gandhi at the end of this post, but I believe that, for now, that is enough history and at least explains why there is such plentiful and delicious Indian food to be found in Durban.

After lunch in the CBD, we made our way over to the coast and walked the entire length of Durban’s Golden Mile of beaches. Despite the fact that it was still very much a spring vs. summer day, there were plenty of Durban’s famous surfers out on the quite formidable waves. What was astounding was that most were quite good. I guess one would have to be a dedicated surfer to be out in that freezing water…at least that was my thought as a spray of ice cold water hit my face while watching them. Cold water in the face notwithstanding, they were mesmerizing to watch. True athletes, they made me want to attempt to lift a surfboard. I do in fact want to learn, but I know the limitations of my abdominal muscles. I will be happy if I am able to stand on a board in shallow water for over 10 seconds at the end of these 8 months.

In any case, our self-appointed tour guide soon tore me away from the beach and it was on to our last stop, Durban’s botanical gardens. At only 200 meters from the flat I will move into tomorrow, it was a happy way to end the trek. It is a peaceful garden with its own orchid house (my favorites!) and plenty of benches dotting the lawns and lake edges. It was a beautiful late afternoon, made all the more entertaining by the fact that we saw many different wedding parties taking pictures. I know there were at least five for I counted five different brightly colored groups of bridesmaids. Perhaps it was the lovely weather or perhaps it was that September 11 is apparently Durban Day, at least according to some posters I saw lining the city.

Oh September 11. I didn’t remember that was today’s date until two or three hours into our trek and as soon as we got back to the B &B, I raced up to my room, turned on my computer, waited for the New York Times to load and shot off a little prayer to God that my hometown of Gainesville hadn’t been turned into a violent battleground of hate. I won’t say much in reference to the awful man who calls himself a pastor and has given my lovely, educated and progressive hometown a bad name, except for the following: Love, not Dove. Google it if you don’t know what I’m referring to. Better yet, buy a t-shirt.

I said I would return to Gandhi at the end of this post, so here it is. As I sat reading about Gandhi from a sacred source of knowledge (well known to some as WIKIPEDIA), I learned that on September 11, 1906, Gandhi spoke in Johannesburg to launch his satyagraha or non-violent resistance campaign that he eventually used in the struggle for Indian independence. Interesting, no? Satyagraha, Quran-burning and terrorist attacks….all revolving around a single date.

Talk about juxtapositions. Or is it irony?