Hectic Travel

I've made it to Umtata, South Africa, 3 hours northeast of Grahamstown along the N2, and home to the mission work of YASCer Jesse Zink, Jennie McConnachie and the African Medical Mission of Itipini founded by her and her late husband Chris in the early 80's.  Jesse's phenomenal blog is linked on this blog.  If Grahamstown was distinctly European, Umtata is distinctly African.  To compare this region of South Africa, known as Transkei, to Uganda is delicate: Uganda, especially the north, has little infrastructure (dirt roads, spotty electricity), but village life, subsistence agriculture and tribal norms still flourish; Transkei has paved roads, stop lights, grocery stores, nearly every first-world amenity, yet substantial portions of the population live in crowded, filthy shanty-towns and ...well, I don't know how they provide for themselves.

 

But Umtata for me almost wasn't to be. I prefer to travel African style while in Africa, and that means taking the bus or taxi-bus in the town center that leaves whenever it fills up. African style travel is an asset when you prefer to let plans present themselves.  Working against me that day was my cell phone, which parted ways sometime in Cape Town.  Jesse was arriving in Umtata the same day from his vacation with his parents in Cape Town and knew I'd be arriving, but not when or how: today I'd be winging it..  Sunday morning I awoke, said good-bye to my hosts in Grahamstown, and walked with my bookbag and small duffle twenty minutes across the sleepy college campus and to the taxi-park on the edge of the township, whereupon I chatted up two men who were quite sure I'd have a hard time at finding a ride to Umtata today.  The only way would be if I hitchhiked my way to East London or Kingwilliamstown, and connected from there.  The guys couldn't have been nicer, as they found some discarded cardboard and began abbreviating my best bet in pen: K*W*T*, signs like I'd seen on the side of the road by countless coloureds and blacks, and not surprisingly no whites.  Would you have turned back? I had a place to stay that night, and Monday could have worked, too. 

 

I'm an international missionary, with eight hours of daylight in front of me, plenty of rand in my pocket to make things happen, and a functional understanding of the way it works down here.  I'm going.  And just as I was ready to swallow my pride and hoist high my plea for assistance, here comes a taxi-bus, empty and bound for Kingwilliamstown. An hour later the driver was making a connection for me to Umtata from the KWT taxi rink.  Now, would Jesse be there?

 

As our fully-loaded taxi pulled out for Umtata, I was pleased we'd be there by 3 o'clock, well before my twilight deadline.  The only questions were whether Jesse was getting my texts, and whether he'd be around to collect me. I arrived at the taxi rink excitedly looking for a tall, skinny white guy among hundreds of people who...well, weren't.  And all I found was this measly pay phone.  \

 

Me: Jesse! I'm at the taxi-rink!

Jesse: That's great! Me too! The one in East London, right?

Me: Uh, no in Umtata, where you live...

 

Jesse's plane was a little late arriving in East London from Cape Town, and my lack of cell phone led to a little confusion.  Anyway, after a couple of phone calls to Jennie McConnachie by Jesse and myself, I was picked up within 15 minutes, and VERY relieved...

 

I'm having a blast still, as always, and look forward to telling you all more when I get home.  Thanks again.