PAINTINGS (March – June 2016)

I’ve just returned back to London after having been away in South Africa for five months. For much of the last two months of my time over there, I travelled around large swathes of the country and many of my last blog posts detail my travel experiences over there.

Yet for the first few months of my time in South Africa I was based in the Western Cape, where I spent much of that time working on my latest series of paintings. Below I am enclosing images of the fruits of my creative labour (put your back into boy! – hahaha) which I am enclosing underneath this post.

If you would like to view more images of my work please visit my official art website at: http://www.nicholaspeart.com

Enjoy!…

 

 

image

Life On Pluto (2016), oil on canvas, 100 x 75cm

 

 

 

image

Straight To Hell (2016), oil on canvas, 100 x 75cm 

 

 

 

image

Frozen Meta Collective Unconscious Lives And Past Lives (2016), oil on canvas, 100 x 75cm

 

 

 

image

In The Next Life (2016), oil on canvas, 70 x 55cm

 

 

 

image

Enigma (2016), oil on canvas, 70 x 55cm

 

 

 

image

Funeral Pyres Of Fantastic Disguise (2016), oil on canvas, 40 x 32cm

 

 

 

image

Secret Lives (2016), oil on canvas, 70 x 55cm

 

 

 

image

Sun Poles (2016), oil on canvas, 50 x 40cm

 

 

(All images and works above by Nicholas Peart)

(All rights reserved)

South African Culinary Delights

As my time in South Africa comes to a close, I take the time to ponder some of the things that gave me great pleasure. One of the first things that come to mind is the unique cuisine from this country. Here are a few of my favourite SA eats…

 

 

Bobotie

image

Image source: http://www.recipehubs.com

 

This traditional Cape Malay dish is a real winner. I remember my parents used to make it (my dad is in fact from South Africa) whenever they threw dinner parties when I was growing up. I must admit I was never a great fan of this dish as a young boy, however I have grown up to love it and I always get excited whenever I see it on the menu. It is similar to Greek Moussaka but taken to an even more magical and irresistible level.

 

 

Potjie

image

Image source: whatsfordinner.co.za

 

This is a veritable no nonsense Afrikaner stew served in a black pot; the kind of roadside dish furiously lapped up by ravanously hungry burly long distance lorry drivers and motorcycle gangs. I suppose this is the South African version of the famous Irish stew. I love this dish which comes either with beef, lamb or even oxtail. I know that if Anthony Bourdain ever came over to South Africa to devour this in the right place, he would be singing its praises for the next two weeks.

 

 

 

Bunny Chow

image

This bad boy needs no introduction. I’ve already mentioned the mighty bunny chow in my Durban posts but it’s such a treat I’ll mention it again. This is a hollowed out half or quarter loaf of bread filled with the curry of your choice. If you are lucky enough to be in Durban, I recommend either My Diners or the legendary Patels on Yusuf Dadoo street. The latter is the king of the veg bunny.

 

 

 

Boerewors

image

Image source: wikipedia

 

These tasty and uniquely South African sausages are ubiquitous across the country. They can be found in all supermarkets and food shops of varying quality. I love the way they are packaged like one great coiled up snake (Ron Jeremy, are you reading this?). If you are able to, try looking for the Grabouw type ones. For me they have the fullest and best flavours. Even better go to a local butchers to purchase them rather than the supermarkets.

To achieve the most satisfying taste it is always recommended to braai (barbecue) them. Sadly I have the worst braaiing skills in the world so have often reluctantly had to cook mine in the oven – like akin to drinking warm beer.

 

 

 

Melktert

image

Image source: lifestyle.co.za

 

Another Afrikaner gem. If you are ever invited round for dinner in SA, a Melktert or milk tart is a dead cert if you are unsure as to what to offer. This dessert is divine. Sometimes when I’ve had a rough day, I buy a whole one from the supermarket to take home and eat in my room.

 

 

 

Biltong

image

Image source: beefitbiltong.com

 

Biltong is the obstacle in any attempts I’ve made in the past to go vegetarian or vegan. Yet how I love this snack. A life without biltong is a very empty one indeed (Morrissey, I hope you are not reading this).

 

 

 

Mrs Balls chutney 

image

Image source: tesco.com

 

Oh Mrs Balls. Mrs Balls is an institution over here. What HP sauce is to the UK this stuff is to here. Fortunately you can also find this chutney in many supermarkets in the UK. After embracing this delight of a condiment, Sharwoods can quite frankly do one.

 

 

 

 

OTHER SOUTH AFRICAN CULINARY CURIOSITIES WORTH A MENTION

 

Pap

image

Image source: taste.co.za

 

This stuff is the starch of choice for many. What tortillas are to Mexico, pap is to South Africa (and in fact many other countries in sub Saharan Africa) and prevents a large percentage of the population from going hungry. On its own it is very bland but with lashing of chilli sauce or even better, chakalaka, it becomes heavenly

 

 

 

Sorghum beer

image

Image source: satravelblog.com

 

This traditional Zulu beer is worth a mention. I had an enormous gulp of this stuff from a massive wooden spoon in Shakaland. It was…well…interesting and an ‘acquired taste’.

 

 

 

 

THE ABSOLUTE PITS OF SOUTH AFRICAN CUISINE

 

Kota

image

This food is an abomination. Yet it is the most popular snack in the townships of the Gauteng province. This is the type of snack that would anger Jamie Oliver to high heaven and he would most likely spend lots of time, money and energy trying to eradicate it like it was some Ebola virus. There is almost zero nutrition in this snack save perhaps for the few remaining leftover vitamins from the deep fried potato chips. I once had one of these in Soweto and I was so grateful for the raw carrot, apple and beetroot juice drink I purchased from Kauai on my return to Joburg.
On the other hand, there is something incorrigibly rock n roll about this food and I could see myself munching on one of these with Lemmy, GG Allen, Charles Bukowski and Tony Bourdain at some dilapidated joint on the outskirts of Joburg. Somebody else can have the kale salad.

 

 

by Nicholas Peart

10th August 2016

(all rights reserved)

Greetings From The Cape Of Good Hope

image

Greetings from the Cape Of Good Hope at the end of the Cape Peninsula, South Africa. It was here where the Portuguese explorer Bartholomeu Dias landed in 1488. On arrival here he christened the cape Cabo das Tormentas (Cape of storms) before its later and more well known Cape Of Good Hope name. Contrary to what many think this is in fact not the most southernly point of Africa (that prize goes to Cape Agulhus, around 200kms to the east). However the Cape Of Good Hope is a majestic sight; a veritable lands end with the mighty force and temper of the southern Atlantic Ocean lashing against it’s rock face. Looking deeper south from the Cape there is over 5000km of raw, undisciplined wild ocean before the edge of Antartica appears; an area which requires solid Shackleton cojones to take a chance with.

 

by Nicholas Peart

8th August 2016

(all rights reserved)

 

Photographs from Bo Kaap

The Bo Kaap district is a fascinating and unique part of Cape Town with an incredibly rich history and culture. It is located on the slopes of Signal Hill, to the west of the city centre. From the top of Bo Kaap on a clear blue day, one is rewarded with an amazing view of the mother city and Table mountain. The first thing that attracts one to this area are its multi coloured period houses, which are a delight to photograph. It’s not uncommon to often see large tour groups and many tourists and travellers with their cameras. I’ve also fallen under its spell.

The residents of Bo Kaap have a very unique, exotic, complex and painful cultural history. When the Dutch first arrived in Cape Town in the 17th century as the Dutch East India company, they brought over slaves from various parts of the world where they had trading posts such as in South and South East Asian countries like Malaysia, Indonesia, India, Sri Lanka and other countries in Africa like Madagascar. These slaves were known as Cape Malays (even if many were not of Malaysian descent) and the residents of Bo Kaap are descendants of these slaves. The takeover of the Cape Colony by the British from the Dutch in 1795 and the subsequent abolition of slavery gave the former Cape Malay slaves a newfound freedom including religious freedom. The Bo Kaap area is predominantly Muslim as can be seen by the mosques in the area and the residents refer to themselves as Cape Muslims.

The Bo Kaap is home to some important historical landmarks. The Bo Kaap Museum is the oldest house in Bo Kaap, dating back to the 1760s, still in its original construction. The museum is small but definitely worth a visit. There is a room dedicated to the history of the area. In another room one can watch a short documentary film featuring Bo Kaap Malay residents talking about the history of the area, their experiences of living here and their feelings on how the area is changing. The nearby Auwal Masjid is the oldest mosque in the Southern Hemisphere established in 1794.

If you want to sample some delicious Cape Malay cuisine, Biesmiellah restaurant serves excellent and authentic Malay dishes. The bobotie and prawn curry are very good. Directly adjacent to the restaurant, there is a cheap takeaway place which sells mutton curries and also small snacks like samosas and chilli bites. The Rose Corner cafe is the place to go to buy spices if you want to have a go at making some traditional Cape Malay dishes. The small corner shop called Jordaan Superette close to where I was staying on Jordaan Street sells delicious homemade chocolate biscuits.

In the past few years prices for property in Bo Kaap have been increasing at an unprecedented rate and many of the original Malay families who’ve been living in their houses for generations have been tempted to sell up. Yet many defiantly are staying put not swayed by the increase in value of their homes. On a sunny Sunday afternoon (or any other time of day) you will see local families relaxing by their front yards. If you are in the neighbourhood, a simple ‘salaam alaykum’ greeting goes a long way.

Cape Town Free Walking Tours, located on Green Market Square in central Cape Town, does free walking tours 2-3 times daily and is a fantastic way to get to know the area and it’s interesting history.

During my time in Cape Town, I stayed for close to a week in one of the Bo Kaap houses located on Jordaan street. From there I went for several strolls through the neighbourhood and the result is the many photographs (I hope not too many) I took, which I am featuring below.

 

by Nicholas Peart

6th August 2016

(All rights reserved)

 

 

image

The heart of Bo Kaap

 

 

image

The heart of Bo Kaap

 

 

image

The heart of Bo Kaap

 

 

image

Georgian style houses

 

 

image

The Bo Kaap museum and the oldest house in Bo Kaap

 

 

image

Inside the Bo Kaap museum 

 
image

The Auwal Masjid: the oldest mosque in the southern hemisphere established in 1794

 

 

image

Keeping up with the Finklesteins

 

 

image

Your’s truly

 

 

image

Rose Corner Cafe – sells great spices and other Maley culinary delights

 

 

image

 

 

 

image

 

 

 

image

 

 

 

image

Biesmiellah Restaurant: excellent Malay Cuisine. Try the bobootie or prawn curry

 

 

image

 

 

 

image

My neighbourhood on Jordaan street

 

 

image

My temporary residence

 

 

image

 

 

image

 

 

image

 

 

image

Nurul Islam mosque

 

 

image

 

 

image

The Eastern Food Bazaar

image

The Eastern Food Bazaar

 

In downtown Cape Town there is a magical food emporium serving tantalising eastern delights called the Eastern Food Bazaar. It is a culinary landmark and institution in this city. Of course a global city like Cape Town has an abundance of places to eat offering all kinds of different food from around the world. However there is no other restaurant in this city which can measure up to the epic sounds, sights, smells and special ambiance of the Eastern Food Bazaar. Entering this arena is like walking into Old Delhi sans hawkers. The handsome elaborately adorned dark wooden interior furnishings give the place a regal and palatial air. During lunch and dinner hours this place sometimes swells to levels over the acceptable maximum capacity threshold. Yet as uncomfortable as it may be during this time this is the best time to be here. You wait an age to get served but the food is always fresh and prepared right in front of you. What’s more, there’s something a tad sad about eating in an empty emporium not buzzing with life. The only other place I’ve been to on the African continent which can compare with this place is the legendary Dja El Fna square in the centre of Old Marrakech. When the sun goes down, that square comes alive with energy, music, delicious food and persistent touts.

image

Inside the EFB

 

image

The EFB full of life

 

image

Notice the exotic wooden interior designs

 

There are about seven food stalls inside where Tandoori food, dosas, shawarmas, Chinese food and even (very unEastern) pizzas can be found. I almost always bolt to the Madras Dosa House for a tasty and no nonsense masala dosa. For a few coins more, the Chicken Cheese Masala dosa is a real treat.

image

The Masala Dosa House Stand

 

If you have a sweet tooth, the Ice Cream parlour is an irresistible addition. The ice cream here is rich and creamy and just as good as the ice cream you’ll find in the finest Italian geleterias. Two scoops in a cup for R20 is a hell of a deal.

image

Divine (and cheap) ice cream

 

I love this place but it’s dangerous since the more frequently I come to pig out here the higher the probability I’ll morph into Andy Fordham.

 

by Nicholas Peart

28th July 2016

(all rights reserved)

Photographs from Soweto

During my time in Johannesburg, I visited the vast township of Soweto on two occasions. Soweto is located south west of the centre of Johannesburg (Soweto is in fact an abbreviation of South Western Townships). Notable landmarks include Desmond Tutu’s house, Nelson Mandela’s house where he lived from 1946 – 62, and the Orlando Towers.

The famous Soweto Uprising of 16th June 1976 began as a result of the government trying to enforce education in Afrikaans as opposed to in the native langauge of the people of Soweto. The death of a 13 year old boy called Hector Pieterson, who was shot by police aiming fire at protesting students, is seen as a symbol of struggle against the brutality of the Apartheid Regime. In many ways the Soweto Uprising was the catalyst for the eventual dismantling of apartheid.

Soweto is also home to South Africa’s largest stadium, the FNB Stadium, which is the homeground of both South Africa’s national football team and one of South Africa’s top football teams, the Kaizer Chiefs.

Below I am featuring some photographs I took during my time there.

 

 

image

Visiting a Soweto learning centre

 

image

Soweto children 1

 

image

Soweto children 2

 

image

Soweto children 3

 

image

Soweto residencies photo 1

 

image

Soweto residences photo 2

 

image

At the Hector Pieterson memorial and museum

 

image

Political party posters

 

image

On the side of a carton of Joburg beer

 

image

Necking some of that Joburg Beer which is very similar in taste to the traditional Zulu beer sorghum 

 

image

Shebeen scene

 

image

Outside Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s house

 

image

Fans of Deliciously Ella rejoice! This is the choice of snack of many people who live in the townships in the Gauteng area. A Kota is a quarter loaf of white bread hollowed out and filled with chips and cheap processed meats like salami slices and Vienna sausages. For R12 it is all yours.

 

image

One of the Orlando towers

 

image

Outside the Apartheid Museum

 

 

by Nicholas Peart

20th July 2016

(all rights reserved)

(Mis)Adventures In Zululand

image

Zululand

 

From the Hippo Hide Lodge in the Berea district of Durban, I take a cab to Ulundi station where I find the white mini van taxi to the Zululand town of Eshowe 150kms north of Durban. Every available bit of space is utilised. I am squashed right in the back and my backpack finds a home pressed somewhere in the front seats. An excessively rotund Zulu woman sat next to me is munching on slices of white bread in one hand and a large cheap supermarket sausage in the other which she occasionally takes generous bites from. In her lap is an enormous bottle of some discount brand Cola. The journey is two hours but feels like 20 and I am happy when we leave the main highway and I spot a sign saying ‘Eshowe 23kms’

 

image

Downtown Eshowe

 

Arriving in Eshowe I stumble out of the bursting minivan like I’ve been kept hostage inside a kitchen cupboard and find myself in a clothes shop run by a friendly South African Indian and shielded away from the hawkers and mess outside as I try to fully understand my bearings and where on earth I am in relation to my chosen accommodation. There are no taxi drivers in sight and I don’t trust many of the hawkers. I see a respectable looking elderly local walking towards his Toyota. I abruptly approach him and blurt out that I need to go to the George Hotel in exchange for a few rands. He obliges and I lump all my crap in the back seats and off we go. It’s barely a few blocks away and I suppose I could have walked there. I decide not to stay at the George and instead have a punt on the adjacent Bishops Guest House. There are no rooms available but the owner Hazel says that I can stay with her friend. It is almost mid afternoon and I head to Vals Takeaway on the edge of town for a delicious, ample and much needed mutton biriani. Afterwards I visit Shoprite to buy a few groceries before heading back to the Bishops. Hazel’s partner Terry kindly drives me in his 4×4 to Hazel’s friend’s house. The house is an enormous bungalow with a large handsome drive and garden with exotic trees and plants. My room is in a separate small block on the grounds of the house. It is immaculate with a Queen size bed, TV and private ensuite bathroom. A very good deal for the price.

The next day I go for a walk around Eshowe. Outside of the city centre it really is a very pretty place in the heart of Zululand. I go for a walk to visit Fort Nongqayi. Inside the fort I am greeted by a young Zulu man named Zano. He is a very intelligent, articulate and entertaining guide. His English is excellent. We visit the white church founded by Norwegian missionaries before entering the fort. Inside the fort are Zulu related displays and artefacts. The section of the fort dedicated to John Dunn (a legendary 19th century white Zulu businessman and sex machine) piques my curiosity but history aside it was being with Zano which really made my day. When he mentioned that his favourite writer was Charles Bukowski I thought I was hallucinating. Very quickly my attention turned away from Zulu history and culture and straight to Bukowski and how in Zululand of all places with my Zulu compadre Zano we’d be discussing him – this beautifully fucked up damaged poetic skid row bum in staunchly conservative Zululand. 20kms away from Nkandla and Jacob Zuma’s massive homestead. Zano told me that many of his friends were also into Bukowski – ‘that man speaks the truth!’ Zano would say.

 

image

Fort Nongqayi

 

When we parted ways I payed a visit to the Vukani Zulu Cultural Museum which has a wealth of notable and important Zulu arts and crafts. There are beautiful and elaborately patterned handwoven baskets and pottery artefacts including several pottery pieces by the noted Zulu artist Nesta Nala and her children.

 

image

Vukani Zulu Cultural Museum

 

image

Pottery works by the Zulu artist Nesta Nala

 

In the evening I relax in the library of the George Hotel which has an adequate Internet connection. I decide that I will visit Shakaland the following day. It’s a Disneyfied like adventure park reenacting traditional 19th century Zulu culture. It was originally created for the highly succesful television series Shaka-Zulu. Unfortunately I don’t have my own transportation and getting to Shakaland or almost any other place in Zululand without it is very difficult. Fortunately a lady named Leanne from the George Hotel kindly offers to drive me there and back the next day.

 

image

Inside the library of the George Hotel

 

For some irrational reason I decide to spend this evening at one of the cheaper outside rooms of the George Hotel in a stupid plan to save money. For the sake of a few rand I ditch Eden for some decrepit beatnik hotel in a seedy part of Tanger in the 1950s. My room has a perpetual pungent oder of fresh paint. I can see that my room is a former wreck which has been tarted up superficially to make it look neat and presentable. My room is the epitome of the phrase ‘polishing a turd’ and it sure as shit ain’t worth what I paid for it. Loud building work outside my room comences in earnest at 7am; not that any of this matters. I’ve been struggling to achieve a modicum of decent kip ever since 11pm. The last few days have been a mess of insomnia. I go to the mirror and my fresh boyband face from just a few days ago has morphed into Shane McGowen’s. Nevertheless I am all ready for Shakaland.

 

image

Shakaland

 

Shakaland is ridiculous. I am not exactly Wilfred Thiesger or Richard Burton and am very much the clumsy albeit curious Gringo with his two words of Zulu under his belt. When I arrive I am the only tourist there and so I get a private tour of the grounds. I drink the infamous sorghum Zulu beer from a big wooden spoon and fool around with a large King Shaka spear like I am in Falaraki on some last minute cheap package weekend bender – not exactly warrior material. I mean put me in a time machine and plop me in the Blood River battle of 1838 I would have more than let the team down. Andries Pretorius would have given me the whipping of my life for my incompetence and tomfoolery. Later I am joined by more visitors; a Belgian couple and a group of visitors from Pretoria. We watch an impeccable performance of Zulu dances. At one point I decide to join in and add some very un-Zulu moves; like a cross between between King Cetshewayo on PCP and Bez of the Happy Mondays. Then we all have some locally made food at the Shakaland restaurant.

 

image

Drinking traditional Zulu beer

 

image

Shakaland shenanegans 

 

image

Trying (pushing) my luck with traditional Zulu dancing

 

Back in Eshowe, I sensibly decide to return to Eden and my Queen size bed. I sleep well and wake up at 6.30am the next day feeling well rested. Yet my mood changes when I turn on the TV and the long awaited result of the EU referendum in the UK has already been announced. For two hours I flip between all the diferent news channels lost in confusion. Fortunately a sane part of my brain does the right thing and propels me out of my room and away from the TV. Besides I had booked a tour for today with a local guide to visit his village and home and perhaps visit his family and a local school. Sadly my original guide had fallen ill and the only option available was a guy named Walter. The lady at the George warned me that he could be ‘erratic’ and may hustle me for more money at the end of tour. But I was assured that he was completely harmless, just a very naughty boy.

 

image

Big pimping; Walter and I

 

Seeing Walter for the first time I become hesitant, anxious and uncertain. My mind harks back to my Moroccan guide Mohammad who accompanied me and a few friends on a three day expedition in the Atlas Mountains ten years ago. He was a never ending liability and even had the temerity to ask for a 200 Dirham ‘customary’ tip at the end. Walter is four parts Rick James, three parts Jacob Zuma, two parts Shaft and one part Lee Scratch Perry. Nevertheless I knew that we would have lots of fun and (erratic) adventures. Walter is wearing a silk red shirt and an ostentatious pair of pimping sun glasses. He’s dressed up more for a night out on the tiles on Florida road in Durban than a visit to a traditional Zulu village. He keeps insisting that he is 83 and has the energy of a bull. What remains unclear is how we are going to get to his village. I don’t have a car and after having told him about ten times he keeps asking me where my car is. The lady at the George who organised the tour says that we would be able to get to his village via public transport but I am forever doubtful. After much unnecessary stressing I realise that the best move is to simply go with the proverbial flow and just glide with the movements of Walter. Getting angry or upset is a fools game. In fact, in a perverse kind of way, I prefer to be with Walter than the other more reliable and trusted guide; it would have been all too predictable. Here there is no compass.

 

image

Rockin’ Zululand

 

We walk towards Eshowe town and for all I know we may as well be heading to a few shebeens or gambling houses than sticking to our original plan of visiting his village. As we pass Shoprite, Walter raises his right hand and an old truck slows down. Walter motions for me to get in and off we drive to what I am guessing is his village. Soon we leave the main paved roads and drive on to a dirt road up a hill and towards his home. There are four semi modern huts at his place with red tin corrugated roofs. I am introduced to some of his family and I use my two words of Zulu; sawabona and injani (which mean ‘hello’ and ‘how are you?’ respectively).

 

image

At Walter’s abode

 

Leaving his home we walk towards a local school. The day is getting hot and I regret not bringing a bottle of water. When we approach the school it is closed. Walter suggests we keep on walking. During our walk we pass by numerous local village folk and Walter insists on photo opportunities every time we meet passing villagers. We bump into a young sangoma apprentice. Walter wants to take a photo of me with the boy using my iPhone. I don’t object. When he hands me back my phone I see that he has taken 22 photos. I will do all the editing when I return to Eshowe later. I don’t know where we are going. After a while I get so exhausted and feel like we’ve galivanted throughout all of Zululand. At one interval he points to a hut in the distance on top of a hill. He tells me that’s where his friend lives and wants us to go there. I faint at the distance but Walter knows of a shortcut. We ditch the path and climb up the hill gripping onto rocks and miscellaneous roots and vegetation. Halfway up the hill I nearly loose my balance but claw my right fingers into the ground earth to prevent myself from falling back to the start. Walter on the other hand is going up the hill like some son of a gun trooper; like a modern day King Shaka. When we enter his friend’s modest abode which has a sparkling name brand fridge and plasma TV inside, we are both rewarded with a cup of clean water which he scoops into the cups from a large open blue tank of water in the corner of the living room.

 

image

With some local Zulu village folk

 

Leaving his friend’s place we head back towards Walter’s house. All the time on the way there he keeps pointing to his house in the distance, like it’s one of the seven wonders of world. When we return to his house, a member of his family prepares a meal for us of chicken and vegetable stew and a lifetime supply of pap. After our meal, Walter hands me a battered notebook which contains testimonials from travellers all around the world. There are also letters. One is from a French couple from Piotiers dating back to 1998 and the other from a Dutch lady from Delft. Clearly all the travellers who crossed paths with Walter were won over by his unique charisma, energy and spontaneity. And so was I. It was a blessing in disguise that the other guide was ill. Although there was still one last problem. How the hell was I going to get back  to Eshowe?

Walter offered to call me a cab or rather get one of his mates to pick me up and drive me back to my guesthouse. I accepted the R100 fare and so Walter and I walked from his house and to the side of the dirt road. On the way we pass by three gravestones. One is of his parents. By the edge of the road, Walter was joined by a friend brandishing a large bottle of Castle Chocolate Milk Stout. They share the bottle and offer me a swig which I decline. Then Walter’s friend lights up a prerolled doobie. My cab eventually arrives and I bid Walter farewell.

I stay one more day in Eshowe. The next day is a lazy and aimless day, although I do muster the energy to go for a walk to visit King Cetashowe’s memorial site further outside of town. At the end of the road just after the site I am rewarded with one of the most spectacular vistas of rural Zululand. It really was quite majestic.

 

imageCetshwayo memorial

 

Before returning to Durban I order a Durban curry for lunch from the restaurant of the George Hotel. Whilst I am waiting for my food, I visit an outside bar on the grounds of the hotel called Pablo Esco Bar, so called since the owner has an uncontrollable obsession with the famous Colombian Drug Lord. I order a pint of Zulu Blond which is a local brew made by the owner and has even won a few awards. I like it. It’s a glorious day outside and despite a kind invitation from a local at the bar to go to a party at his house where a few local bands will be playing, I am all done with Zululand. My battered white collective mini van taxi awaits to take me back to Durban.

 

by Nicholas Peart

12th July 2016

(all rights reserved)