Durban: the invisible man
Durban: the invisible man
Overcast and still this morning. I have some minor boat work: more oil on tiller and probably cabin sale; touch up deck non-skid paint; check bilge and stuffing box; and I will go ashore for one or more provision runs. Still need more crackers, cookies, trail mix, paper towels and drinks.
The quarter berths are getting cluttered with bags of provisions, a half dozen or more of which have to be moved if I need to get back there. Just before I sail, I’ll move them forward to the v-berth.
Last night I went on deck to check on the new LED the rigger put in the masthead anchor light and noticed a cockroach scurrying across the cockpit. He showed up very well against the new white non-skid paint. I crushed him, but realized that I won’t be free of roaches until I’m free of this dock. I haven’t seen any inside the cabin for a few days.
On my way in to shower at the Point Yacht Club yesterday afternoon I met an English couple who recognized me from Opua. They were anchored near THE HAWKE OF TUONELA last year and left a month after I did. Their boat is one of about a dozen now on what is called the International Jetty that made landfall at Richards Bay and are now making their way along the coast.
They told me of a Polish boat that is there. About 30’ long, it was being sailed solo around the world by a Polish girl, who decided she had had enough here, so her sponsor sent another Polish girl out to complete the circumnavigation. She left Durban a few weeks ago, but went aground when her anchor dragged near Port Elizabeth. The boat was not seriously damaged, but it was found that she was not alone on the boat. So after it was hauled out and repaired in Port Elizabeth, her sponsor made her sail 400 miles back here to start again. Mark this as rumor, but I have now heard the same story twice.
I have started checking the weather maps each day from a couple of sources online. Assuming the rigger finishes on Monday, I will be ready to leave Tuesday, but have to go through an unnecessarily complicated clearance procedure, upon the completion of which I have to leave within 36 hours or do it all again. At the moment it looks as though Wednesday might be a possibility.
I’m nearing the stage of just sitting on the boat and looking around to be certain I haven’t forgotten anything.
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Late afternoon has clouded over after a sunny morning. Almost all the boats at the International Jetty left today. Despite the clouds, the weather map shows a big high building. But for the rigger, I could have left too. Hope I don’t have to wait too long for the next high.
Made a trip ashore this morning for provisions--basically box wine and trail mix. There are only a few things left on my list. Will get them Monday. Shops generally are not open here on Sunday.
Touched up deck paint; put last two coats of oil on tiller; one on cabin sole. Checked engine. Changed lines on fenders. The old ones have worn during THE HAWKE OF TUONELA’s four months tied to a dock. Nothing much left to do. I’ll probably remove the fabric cushion covers tomorrow. They need replacing, along with the mainsail cover and dodger. Cabin also needs painting. The cosmetics will wait until New Zealand.
I’ll sail without radar and masthead wind. All other systems are functional.
Had a beer in the yacht club bar after my shower. Cost $0.85 US.
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Evening.
Still cloudy at what would be sunset. I noticed this afternoon online that the temperature in Evanston was 7ºF. About 80 degrees warmer here.
In three visits I have spent a total of about one of my sixty-seven years in South Africa. It is a very beautiful country. This time I have seen none of the beauty. While THE HAWKE OF TUONELA has been here four months, I have been here four weeks, yet my experience of the country has perhaps been more authentic. I have not been a tourist.
In 1987 we went to the main public library, which extended temporary membership and let us check out books. The building is now run down. As is the adjacent post office. Scaffolding surrounds the badly weathered copper dome on another government building nearby.
Yet there is an odd contrast with the buildings just across the street from the marina. Twenty and thirty stories high. The penthouses at the tops, with huge glass walls overlooking the harbor and the Indian Ocean must be spectacular spaces in which to live. I’m not certain they are occupied. If so, they are incredibly distant from life at street level below them.
The streets are crowded. Stalls, many of them artfully displayed, sell fruit and other food, clothes, watches, cell phones. One with colorful peppers particularly caught my eye. Many men stand at corners offering promotional handouts. Girls sit in chairs with photo albums of various hairstyles offered at salons. Jitney buses stop mid-block. Whistles and hawkers shriek. The shops offer mostly cheap goods.
To Americans Woolworth’s is a memory of Five and Dimes, and to some perhaps one of the first skyscrapers in New York. Here it is a upper/middle chain of department and grocery stores, by far the best in the city center. I often buy food at the Woolworth’s a few blocks inland.
Brand names reach even here. There is a Boston Office Skills School and a Stanford Computer School.
I am careful walking in the city. I have never taken my good camera. Yet I have not yet had a problem or even a suspicion of one.
The two most famous Americans in South Africa are both from Chicago. Oprah and Barack Obama. Much has been made in the news here about Obama becoming the first black president. I voted for him, but not because he is black. His election only proves that despite its considerable imperfections, the United States is still the country of greatest opportunity. Could a black man be Prime Minister of Great Britain, or Australia, or New Zealand? Could a black man head the government of France or Germany or Japan? Could a white man be the leader of South Africa or Nigeria or Egypt or Kenya?
The crowds on the street push and shove. I don’t know that they do this any more than street crowds in Asia or other parts of the world where people struggle to survive. There is vitality on the streets, the primordial flow of life. I wonder how they see a tall old white man, who towers above them, walks faster than they, and is clearly out of place. Probably they do not see me at all.
I passed the statue of Fernando Pessoa again today.
Saturday, January 24, 2009