Eastern Cape

To say the least, the past week here has been nothing short of unforgettable…

I sat in a car for more than 20 hours driving around the Eastern Cape of South Africa
I bungy jumped off Boukrans Bridge, the highest commercial bungy jump in the world
I went on a safari in the Addo Elephant Park
I visited Nelson Mandela’s home and birthplace in Umtata
I went “mountain” biking in a village- it was more like hilly dirt biking
I slept on cow dung in the village
I learned “Xhosa”words, which is the language of the people in the village
I went “kloofing” aka cliff jumping
I saw dolphins feeding along the shore
….plus much more

I could go on and on about more of my adventures this past week, but to keep it some what short and to the point, I must highlight my experience in the traditional African village. Little did I know what I was getting myself into as our VW trudged through the pothole-filled dirt “road” that led us to our hut that we were going to sleep in on Monday night. As we traveled further and further into the middle of nowhere I couldn’t help but think to myself, I am living my dream to be in an African village. This is no longer a dream. This is real. I have always been enthralled with traditional African culture for as long as I can remember. If you ask anyone who knows me well, they will tell you that I am fascinated with anything that has to do with Africa- whether it is the music from The Lion King or the singing and dancing portrayed in other movies and documentaries of Africa. I’ve always loved learning about other cultures, however, there has always been something captivating and enchanting about Africa.

I had seen many glimpses of the soul of Africa while living in Cape Town the past few months, but now it was time for something different, and something new. As we drove up to the cement blocked, two-roomed home that was next door to our hut we slept in that night, I began my journey of living out my dream. We got out and greeted the family who was hosting us- the family consisted of a husband and wife along with grandparents and children. The youngest boy immediately started crying when we got out of the van, as he was probably overwhelmed with all of us white, English speaking young people crowding around his family. After unloading everything from the van, our guide Ianda left us for about a half an hour to fend for ourselves while he took care of some business. We were left with four boys staring and pointing at us while laughing. We decided to take the chance and ask them their names in English. Surprisingly they understood and answered us. After the name exchange was finished, silence fell upon the group. What’s next? How about a game of tag? That doesn’t require any use of language and heck, we’ve been in a van all day and need the exercise. Both the boys and a few of us enjoyed this activity for about 30 minutes. Our next activity, amazingly, was basically a photo shoot. Everyone and their mother took out their digital camera. Ha, just kidding, not everyone. I decided not to take out my camera and instead just observed the whole scene. The children were fascinated by the cameras that would show you the picture(you know, thost fancy digital ones) immediately after it was taken. Some may have never seen a camera before. During the photo shoot some of the older women started to sing and dance for us in Xhosa. We all started clapping to the beat and joined in the song. We were all united in song.

This is when the emotions started to come. The pleasure and joy of simply being in the presence of these beautiful people gave me a peaceful feeling that I was in the presence of my God. He has created each one of us to be beautiful to one another. It was as if the Lord was placing the gift of being in the presence of these beautiful people into the depths of my heart. It was astounding. It was truly a gift to be cherished. Without comprehending the words leaving their mouth, I was able to establish a connection in that moment. The unexpected tears started to flow throughout that night. The Mamas made us a traditional meal in which we all ate around a circle in our hut. I could tell that they found much joy in preparing such a meal for us. As we said goodnight to all the kids who were patiently waiting outside our hut for us to finish our dinner, some of the men of the village played their guitars for us- could not have been more perfect. I kept on wanting to slap myself in the face because everything I envisioned for this experience came to be true.

That Monday night my dream came true.

“Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet,
Praise him with the harp and lyre,
Praise him with tambourine and dancing,
Praise him with the strings and flute,
Praise him with the clash of cymbals,
Praise him with resounding cymbals.
Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.”
-Psalm 150:3-6

The world famous Boukrans Bridge- don't worry, if you want to see how I actually jumped off that bridge, I have a video of it. It already seems like a dream to me. Love to watch it with you all sometime.
Me getting all tied up. I got paranoid that the ropes and pads weren't tight enough, so I made the guys double check everything. I think that got annoyed with me and couldn't wait to push me off that bridge.
Ha.... and there I go.....
Our view from our room at the Buccaneers Backpacker on Cintsa Beach near Port Elizabeth. We stayed for two nights and it was only about $15 per night per person to sleep there! It was definitely our favorite place, with the gorgeous view and all the amazing people we met there! The famous sliding rock that Nelson Mandela slid down when he was growing up. Pictured: Rachel, a security guard, Ianda(our tour guide for two days), and me
Some boys from the village that we found playing on the beach.

The children from the village and I hanging out before our big bike ride.