As we crossed the wide Kei river we didn’t have to show our passports but it did seem like we were suddenly someplace different, a step back in time. This area had been left untouched and unindustrialized for more than fifty years- ignored by a government which washed its hands of responsibility by declaring the area its own nation. Until 1996 there were only 19,000 telephones in the whole area, which held around 4 million people. This has meant that the Transkei is currently a combination of incredible beauty and incredible poverty.
Rolling hills were covered with tiny houses, many of them the traditional brightly colored mud huts with thatched roofs. Their brightly painted walls almost shone in the afternoon sun. A stark contrast to the wide open spaces of the rural areas, the tiny towns we drove through were crammed with people. Cars were bumper to bumper and the crowds of people doing errands or coming home from school were nearly shoulder to shoulder. We’ve probably driven through more than 50 of these tiny towns by now on our trips. Every one looks the same. The roads in and out are always dotted with people hitchhiking, their hands out or holding cardboard signs. I always wonder where they want to go and how often they depend on hitchhiking to get there. How often must they have somewhere to go and can’t get there? Or do they have no place to go, and they’re just trying to leave where they are?
As we drove farther into the Transkei the road got worse and worse, until it was dotted with so many potholes that Ashwin couldn’t avoid them, the van jolting and shaking every time we hit one. Finally we could see the ocean in the distance. Even though I knew where we going I was almost surprised to see the water, the green hills seemed so unlike the ocean side.
Our first view was driving down into the valley that made up the little bay. We were put in a little house on the side of a hill, where we could see the whitecaps of the stormy water and hear the waves crashing. After getting settled in we headed down to the main building for dinner. On our walk there we were surprised to find that the high tide had brought the ocean up so far that it had made a wide shallow river between us and the main building. Taking off our shoes we quickly forded the temporary river and went on to dinner. Outside a large fire was burning keeping away a little of the winter night chill.
The next day the rest of the group left to hike to see a nearby rock formation called the “Hole in the Wall” but I decided to skip in favor of a little walking around by myself with my camera. Taking both my cameras (though the large one’s battery sadly died soon) I explored the two beaches which made up the bay. The first, smaller beach was enclosed by large craggy cliffs. I spent time climbing up and over and through the closest cliffs, finding little passages and high edges where I could sit and watch the roaring water below.
I followed a path through the cliffs and sand dunes to the second bigger beach. The path left me on top of a high hill, I could see all the way down the curve of the white sand beach to where it was stopped by more cliffs. I walked down the hill through small trees twisted from the ocean wind. The beach was covered with children. I saw a few tourists and some surfers but mostly the beach seemed to have been completely conquered for the purposes of sandcastle building and playing soccer. I headed back a few hours later with a couple o shells in my pocket and many more pictures on my camera.
We forded the small river again that night and had dinner and drinks at the hostel. More people had arrived that night including some American students we knew from Rhodes. The next morning we walked along the beach and bought some things from the many local women who walked along the shore selling jewelry. Then it was back to our last month.
