Visit to a Maternity Center and School

South of Brazzaville, below the cataract when the Joue River joins the Congo to form a spectacle of rapids, Sister Maria Albina leads a group of seven nuns in two important missions. They provide prenatal and delivery care to mothers with uncomplicated pregnancies. And they provide preschool and primary school education (and basic health care and hygiene) for up to 250 children.

The 76-year of "Suor Maria" is Italian and has been in Africa for 50 years, 35 of them in rural DRC (the other Congo) and 15 where she is now. When the civil war ended, this order of Italian nuns took over the compound from another order that had been forced to flee. They left with everything moveable except for the chapel, which they left in order, right down to the vestments.

Since that time, the new order has redeveloped and expanded the compound to include preschool and primary education in newly built and sparkling clean buildings that include modern toilet and shower facilities for the children. Families pay about $12/month (plus a one dollar supplement for English instruction). The school census starts outta a high of 250 at the beginning of the year. As the year progresses and families cannot pay and in fact need more money, some parents take their children out of school and put them to work breaking up rocks by the river. The day we visited we found three parents busy sewing student uniforms in a classroom., using old treadle sewing machines. Two toddlers nearby had probably never seen whites. The little boy ran screaming to his mother when he looked at me. But the little girl just sat sort of frozen while we all fussed and took photos.

The maternity center is open 24/7 and the nuns rotate overnight duty for deliveries. They have two maternity wards with stainless steel framed beds and mosquito nets. The delivery suite (like the whole compound) is maintained so well that a group of Italian eye surgeons will be using it to perform ophthalmic surgery later this year. But women with serious complications have to be referred elsewhere. It is not supposed to work that way but the government  doctors assigned to visit do not come because the center is remote, per Sister Maria.

And indeed, it is remote. We left the southbound highway and followed a bumpy and curvy dirt road for what felt like forever, but was probably a couple miles. There are two access roads, one of which (the shorter one) is impassable in the rainy season. At the point where I began to doubt the route, a neighborhood of scattered houses and compounds appeared. There were many young children outside playing, who stopped to stare as we bumped through. Then at last a simple walled compound appeared. As with many of the walled compounds I have seen, the outside gave no hint as to what lay behind the gate.

I was privileged to make this visit because two Italian friends, one of whom is an ophthalmologist with WHO, had made the arrangements and agreed to take me along. Most of the communication was done in Italian, the friends and Sister Maria all happy to have a chance to speak it. My friends were tireless in translating and making sure I knew what was being said. Even though the visiting priest was waiting to say mass at 5:00, Sr Maria insisted we have a cup of real Italian coffee.  She puts up with many inconveniences, including a monthly bout of malaria (acquired years ago in the DRC), but she told us she could not live without her Italian coffee machine. There are some nights when that is all that can keep her awake with a woman in labor!

Poto-Poto

Poto-Poto is a large district within Brazzaville that is densely populated and highly commercial. Many immigrants can be found here running, for example, Lebanese restaurants. The areas seems to be informally organized into sections by what is on offer. There is a whole area that is filled with fabric shops, which was the reason for my initial visit to Poto-Poto.

Like the carpet sellers in Istanbul, the guys sit at the edges of their open air shops and try to persuade customers to enter. We did not get any proposals of marriage, as Lily did in Istanbul, however. Every shop sells basically the same thing--pagne in stacks from floor to ceiling, somewhat organized by price and quality. There is no organization by color. So it is a riot of color and prints. Fabric comes waxed (better quality) and unwaxed. It is all imported, some from as far away as Europe and Asia. But the colors and patterns are distinct to the Congolese market.  Pagne is sold in 5 meter lengths, about 46" wide and is priced by the piece. The asking price for the best fabrics was about 18,000 Congolese francs or about $36.

Poto-Poto Shopping Team - Stro's dress is from pagne

Entering the first of several shops, my eyes just crossed. I did not know where to look first. By about the third shop, I figured out that the key was to focus so as to eliminate anything that was not right and then look specifically for the colors of interest. We had color samples with us, of course. This shopping mission was inspired by the reality that Stro's much-loved Mexican fabric purchased 15 years ago is now faded and dirty and the covers are not removable. So we were looking for blues and yellows to match the tabletop blue and yellow tile, with a mild orange and aqua, which are the other colors in her Mexican pottery.

Our final choices for two sets of chairs and a bench.

Chanelie, the housekeeper at Villa Gentil, and Romain, a friend, went with us. Thank goodness. Once we found the fabric we thought would work, Chanelie took over to bargain for the price and came up with 6,000 CFA per pagne rather than 18,000. I am not going back to Poto-Poto without her. So we got all the fabric for 10 chair cushions and a bench cushion for $80. Now we have to find an upholsterer who can make cushions with zippers to make them easier to remove and wash.

Although most shops are grouped by products, occasionally you will see an oddball. Just across the street from the shop where we bought the fabric we saw a hardware store or quincaillerie with a slogan on its sign that says, "Mon mari est capable," or "My husband is handy" or maybe "It's so nice to have a man around the house!"

Today's Hat--Film Discussion Facilitator

Today I was the guest facilitator for the weekly English-language film club at the US Embassy. This is a public program offered by the Information Resource Center, which also provides computer access during the day for working on resumes and college applications, researching potential places of study in the US, etc. There is a small lending library as well.

The Foreign Service Officer who normally coordinates the film group (they like to watch episodes of West  Wing) is on vacation so I had the good luck of being invited  to fill in for the showing and discussion of the 2005 Best Picture awardee, "Good Night and Good Luck." You may recall this film covers the period of 1953-1958 and the role of the CBS News and Edward R. Murrow and Fred Friendly in fighting the shenanigans of Sen. Joseph McCarthy.

I warmed to my assignment by watching the film yesterday at home and preparing a handout with a summary, background on Murrow, context for the film, some unusual terms ("loyalty oath") and some discussion questions. I love this film, so you could say I was a pig in muck with this assignment (which is based in part on the fact George Clooney plays Fred Friendly). It also happened to be a perfect follow-on for last week's US Department of State visiting journalist, which is why it was selected.

Ten young men presented themselves and had a few minutes to read through the handout before I introduced the film. I realized while previewing it that this was likely going to be a big challenge, even for advanced English-speakers. The film assumes so much knowledge of American popular culture (references to Rin-Tin-Tin and Howdy Doody, a clip of a Liberace interview) and US history and the US Constitution that I warned them at the outset it might be difficult but just to listen and get what they could. In addition, it is almost all dialogue and there is a lot of sarcasm and fast repartee among the characters.

Four of the nine spoke up audibly after the film. They asked questions ranging from "What is scotch?" (an awful lot of it is consumed in the movie) to "How did Murrow  propose to compete with the USSR on ideas, not just bombs?" We talked across freedom of the press, transparency in government, the Cold War, and what else was happening in the US at the same time (Brown V. Board of Education, increasing numbers of women in college--thank goodness it was pre-pill). I offered to let them go on schedule at 4:00 but they had more questions and seemed determined to get answers.

At the end, I turned the tables on them and asked them why they attend the weekly meetings. One young man wearing a blue blazer (everyone else was in tee shirts or polo shirts) explained he has been coming since January because he got an invitation! His English is quite advanced and he sees this as an opportunity to learn more about the US, content issues, language; his dream is to visit and study in the US some day. He also thinks English will help him no matter what in the job market. Three others said something similar--to learn and improve his language. My guess is that they ranged in age from 19 or 20 to maybe 25 at the most. I invited them all to come to English Club at Villa Washington tomorrow at 5:00 for a discussion about traditions that celebrate mothers. Now let'shope I recognize the ones who come!

Cape Town Around Town

One of many views from the apartment

We had the great good fortune of a friend's hospitality (the Foreign Service is like that) in Cape Town. We stayed at her waterfront marina apartment while she was away visiting family in Australia. This apartment was very close to the V&A Waterfront, which meant we could walk to restaurants, the boat for Robben Island, endless shopping, the Ferris wheel and the Springbok Rugby Museum, among others. We looked across at The One and Only Hotel, whose spa we visited on Friday.

When we were "in town" we got around very easily in taxis, which are all metered and seldom cost more than three or four dollars. Two destinations in town that we enjoyed a lot were Table Mountain and Robben Island. We did both in the same day, starting on the 9:00 a.m. boat to the island. The trip takes about 50 minutes but it was a beautiful day without much chop or wind and the scenery surrounding the harbor was endless entertaining.

Photo opp--Table Mountain from Robben Is

Once we docked at the island, we transferred to two large buses. The Japanese tour group took one, with their own translator, and the rest of us took the other with English-speaking guides. We made three stops where we were permitted to get off the bus. The first was clearly a photo opp looking back at Table Mountain and Cape Town. The other two permitted us to see firsthand parts of the prison complex, including the isolation area where Robert Sobukwe, former leader of the PanAfricanist Congress, was held for many years.

The final stop permitted us to visit both the general political prisoner area and the (mostly ANC) "political leadership" area. The latter is where we saw Nelson Mandela's incredibly small cell, where he lived for 18 of his 27 years of imprisonment. This part of our tour was led by a former political prisoner, a man who entered Robben Island an angry young man (his self-description) at age 20 and left at age 32, his 25 year sentence reduced by the amnesty program. As with the District Six Museum, hearing the story from someone who experienced political imprisonment added an authenticity that could not be achieved any other way. He has been doing
tours for 12 years, no longer lives on the island, and talked about how painful the process was at the beginning, but also how it has helped him heal.

Due to the pace of the tour, we were really unable to linger and only had time for a few questions. The entire compound has been cleaned out except for a few examples of cell "furnishings." It is unnaturally quiet and clean. The village of Robben Island, which we drove through, houses about 200 people, all of whom work on Robben Island. It seemed oddly like a ghost town since we did not see any people--just the church, tennis courts, schools, houses.

On the Ferris Wheel

Coming back to harbor

Catching the rays

At the end of our return boat trip, the sun was shining warmly and we took immediate advantage to en joy a ride on the Ferris wheel--four rotations around with fantastic views of Table Bay and Table Mountain. After a sushi lunch on a sun deck we grabbed a taxi for Table Mountain. Who knew if the sun was going to stay with us?

Off-season travel advantages struck again at Table Mountain. No lines at all for the cable car. Relatively few people and we were able to distance ourselves from the whiny American college students quickly. From our apartment's kitchen and guest room windows we had a full view of the mountain--usually shrouded in fog through the morning. But this day was blue-sky clear. We found the apartment complex from above and looked south to Camps Bay, with a wide beach and lovely second homes. Although many animals live in the park we saw only a few dassies, the small brown groundhogs. They could have cared less about our presence--just kept nibbling on their food or basking in the sun out on an exposed rock surface.

No-so-wearable-art: skirt made from grasses and plants of RSA

Generally speaking, the South African economy looks like it is booming--though recent concerns about a drop in credit rating may suggest otherwise. The quality and variety of foods and goods available at reasonable prices as well as the surprisingly well-swept streets (no litter anywhere) was a stark contrast to Congo, where most goods are imported and relatively costly and substantial refuse is a part of life. On the other hand, as we drove around we also saw settlements or townships that were shanty towns housing thousands of people in thrown-up sheds of corrugated metal or plywood. These areas have uncertain water and electricity supplies and poor sanitation. They do not lack for satellite dishes, however, which seemed an enigma. Is TV an escape from the harsh reality around them or a way to keep a toehold on  hope--or both?

Wine Country!

Venturing into wine country--just an hour from town--on a brilliantly sunny winter day was quite the treat after Cold and Rainy Monday. The winter vineyards sported a burnished gold look. The grazing cattle and sheep seemed like details placed to enhance the setting. There are 9-10 wine areas in South Africa, most of them near Cape Town, including places with well-known names Constantia, Stellenbosch, and Franschhoek. These areas are akin conceptually to Sonoma, Napa, Marlborough, Rioja, etc.

Fairview reflecting pool

The long driveway at the first stop, Fairview, is lined with bird of paradise plants--all blooming just now. The sprawling white Dutch farmhouse that is the tasting center features atranquil reflecting pool and a goat tower--literally a tower with a spiraling stair on the outside. The goats go in and out and up and down and presumably at some point are allowed into wider pastures. A very handsome billy goat with a beard to rival Mark Murray's showed off by going up and down and around the spiral staircase.

At Fairview we indulged in a prearranged "master tasting" of cheese (recall the goats) and wine pairings. Of about 7
cheeses only one, a Gouda with cumin seeds (my all-time favorite Dutch cheese) was  imported. The rest, both cow's milk and goat cheeses, were made at the farm (and available in the shop). The tasting took place in a large hall dominated by a chandelier made from curly goat horns. The wines were also produced at Fairview, which is in the town of Paarl (pearl). We moved from comparing two Sauvignon Blancs of different vintage across the spectrum to the South African creation (now copied elsewhere) called pinotage, a combination of pinot noir and hermitage. The idea was not only to taste the wines but also to see how the combination with particular cheeses affected the taste. It was all good! This was about 10:30 a.m. Quite a way to start the day!

Fairview cheese and wine pairings

Fairview set a high standard for the rest of the day as we headed north into the area known as Franschhoek (French corner), named for Huguenots who settled there when they escaped from France. The Afrikaaners welcomed them on the condition they must drop French and learn Afrikaans, a deal they accepted. 

We then seemed to enter into the alternate reality of travel writing in the style of Lilian Langseth-Christiansen, who wrote for Gourmet Magazine in the 1980s. Her articles comprised my travel agenda for years (recall the Grand Asparagus Tour in Germany!). There we were with Lilian by our side entering a long drive through an arching bower of trees. At the end we were in front of a classic Dutch Farmstead, painted white with dark green shutters. This was the home of Graham Beck, a big name in South African wine, who died just a few years ago. His farm and property were purchased by his neighbor Antonij Rupert. The house looks like it should be a high-end (very high-end) B&B but for now it is simply preserved in the way it was used by Beck. The main floor rooms are very spacious, with high ceilings and floor to ceiling windows. The dining room is set for a wine tasting for maybe 35 people at one long highly polished table. Two bedrooms and the main parlor are sumptuously furnished with antiques and fabric that begs for a touch.

Rupert whites

Most famous for their Methode Cap Classique, they were regrettably unable to give us a taste, having long ago sold out their inventory. This wine is the South African version of champagne, a term that is legally the property of a region in France. Instead we did a tasting of four white wines--sauvignon blanc, riesling, semillon and chardonnay--produced on the Rupert properties. The sauvignon blanc that came from vineyards at an elevation of 500 meters was the best, in my opinion. The chardonnay here and elsewhere had very little oak by comparison to California or Australian chardonnay.

Beet-goat cheese souffle surrounded by other beets at La Motte

Our drive to lunch at another vineyard, LaMotte, was marked by views of the aptly named Drakenstein (dragon stone) Mountains, covered at the highest peaks with snow. It is not enough snow to ski but it was beautiful at a distance on a sunny day. We did not do a tasting at LaMotte but settled instead for a fabulous three-course lunch with wines produced there. 

NG Church in Franschhoek

We ended our day browsing the village shops in Franschhoek, which would be as great weekend destination--lots of lovely B&Bs and nearby wineries. Good roads for biking, fun shops, a picturesque Dutch Reformed church, a memorial to the Huguenots (thought about Stro's Grandma Jacot). As we left the village, the trunk was full of wine and other acquisitions. I was starting to wonder how we were going to get it all home to Congo.

Arrangements for this day, indeed for most of what we did in Cape Town, were made by Raymond Carelse, a Concierge Extraordinaire. So extraordinary that on the way back into town from our big day of wines he got a call saying we could have a table at The Test Kitchen that night at 8:30. According to locals, this is simply unheard of. One usually waits six months for a table. But Raymond has made friends with Katje, the reservation goddess, and she had a last minute cancellation. We did not hesitate to say yes, but it took a nap and a bath for me to regroup! We'd had a lot of wine.

Tasting Menus and Wine Pairings - The Best of Cape Town's Restaurants

I feel compelled to begin with the family qualifier to all matters culinary, "Not that food is important." Of course, at times it is all-important and Cape Town was one of those times and places where we went for the gold, with help from family, friends, and the capable Raymond who gave us suggestions.

Tasting menus and wine pairings--where you have 4, 5, or even 8 courses with wines specifically selected to go with each course--seem to be de rigueur in the Western Cape. This must be part of a concerted effort to promote South African wines, which are the only wines on the menus. And well they should be promoted, especially the whites.

We managed to survive three consecutive evenings of fine dining, two of which featured tasting menus. The three restaurants were in Cape Town. The Test Kitchen is the current hot spot. Its decor is somewhat industrial and it is located in a renovated complex called The Biscuit Factory. During the day many high-end shops offer all kinds of discretionary spending opportunities, including clothing and crafts. On Saturdays there is an open air farmer's market there as well. That is on the "next time" list for sure.

Key to dessert art: squeeze bottles.

Our last minute seats at the Test Kitchen were at "the chef's table," meaning we sat on bar stools overlooking the preparation of food. In our case, we watched desserts and palate cleansers being prepared all night. In fact, we got way too invested in how "our two dessert guys" were doing (mostly great) and did not like the intrusions of a supervisor who scolded them (the supervisor looked like Doogie Howser). The current style of cooking that uses multiple ingredients, most of which turn out to be unrecognizable in the final product, certainly governed these desserts. But we got a lot of great ideas for presentation, including how to create a swirl of mango puree with a small paintbrush. That's just for starters. We also watched them broil sheets of paper-thin meringue that were then removed from the baking dish and scrunched into erstwhile baskets for another dessert. Obviously, we got caught up in the scene before us and lost track of time. Our foods, especially my main dish of fish, were wonderful and appropriately portioned.

Seafood course at TK--Food As Art

Next up was La Colombe, which we enjoyed with friends from the U.S. Consulate (and William and Mary) and her visiting mother, a professor at Howard. La Colombe is located in Constantia, which is now a near-suburb of the city. The restaurant has recently been bought out by the chef and will relocate in September. It is currently in the middle of an old farm/winery which has been in limbo for years. We used the a la carte menu here. The food has a striking resemblance in presentation and description to what we had seen at The Test Kitchen. It turns out the head chef at TK used to be at La Colombe. Our friends were disappointed their "personal sommelier" was not working the evening we were there. We did not suffer a lack of great wines despite his absence.

On Friday evening, after a restful day of spa treatments, we headed to Buiten Verwachting, which had been recommended by Jim and Sharon Rousmaniere. The name means "Beyond Expectations" in Afrikaans. Also in Constantia, this restaurant is part of a large farm and now has several event venues. It is a popular spot for picnics and weddings. As it is winter now, we did not have a good view of the setting because it was already long past dark when we arrived at 7:30. In fact, we drove some distance after entering the property--without the help of any lighting. When we arrived at the restaurant it was so dark we wondered if we had made some mistake and they were not open!

Chalmar steak tartare with quail egg and delicious
accompaniments at Buiten Verwachting

Fortunately they were not only open but waiting for us. We started with a glass of Methode Cap Classique while we perused the menu. It did not take long to opt for the tasting menu with wine pairings and we were escorted to a lovely table that in the light of day looks out on a veranda. Three courses stand out in my memory as among the best food we had, among many wonderful offerings. The first was a plate of steak tartare from local beef, topped with a raw quail egg planted in the top and surrounded with teeny scoops of things like minced gherkins, anchovies, egg whites, egg yolks, olive tapenade, and tiny triangle toasts. The next memorable course was a seafood chowder served in a wide bowl with a mound of seafood in the center surrounded by a creamy broth that had been whipped into a foam. Finally, perhaps the most memorable course was springbok, an antelope that is the national animal and also provides the name for the RSA rugby team. It was served much as one might see a rack of lamb served in the U.S. The meat was very lean but rich and it was surrounded by small offerings of six or seven vegetables. All the portions at Buiten Verwachting were larger than elsewhere and larger than one might expect in a five-course meal. It reminded me of great restaurants in The Netherlands that offered French-style food in generous Dutch proportions with "diverse groenten" (different vegetables).

With this meal, our week came to an end. We had three hours of sleep before our airport pick-up by Raymond. I felt as if I was still digesting dinner when we got to the airport. I couldn't even drink coffee until we got home. But what a way to go out!

Cape Peninsula - The Highlight of a Big Week!

Standing at Cape Point Lighthouse, with New York 12,000+ KM northwest, was in every way the pinnacle of a day trip out of Cape Town. The Cape Peninsula is considered one of the Cape Town Big Five--in this case not big animals, but sights: Robben Island, the Waterfront (with Ferris wheel), wine country, Kirstenbosch Gardens, and the Cape Peninsula. We managed four of the five (no gardens) plus Table Mountain and District Six, plus shopping, spa treatments, and a lot of good food and wine. It was a full week capped by seeing two oceans meet at the southwest tip of Africa, remembering those days of World History class and the explorations of Vasco Da Gama.

Before we could get started for real on the trip south, we made a stop in Woodstock, now a part of the city, to find a fabric shop called Mnando. I had been told this shop had the best selection of "blaudruk" or schweschwe cloth in town. With the patience of Job, Sean (son of Raymond) found the store and waited while we shopped. I am at my happiest planning projects and so I had a good time imagining all the things I might make. Cognizant that I don't always finish the projects I plan, I limited myself to two--a table runner and napkins from blue prints for Stro's patio table, and napkins and napkin holders in green for my own. Stay tuned on how fast I finish them after returning home.

Following this satisfying visit, we headed south to the eastern side of the Cape Peninsula. We could see Muizenberg from a distance, with its wide beaches. From some elevation on the highway we stopped to visit a shark watcher. This is someone who sits in a shaded booth high over the bay with big binoculars and looks out all day long for shadows and other telltale signs that sharks are present. In the meantime, with this assurance, surfers abound on the beaches. The last shark-sighting this year was in May.

ESM with snoek

From there we visited Kalk Bay, which has an active fishing fleet. Besides seeing the big seals hanging around the harbor for the fish trimmings, we got to see snoek being dried. Snoek (pronounced like "ooh") is a popular fish that is often sold smoked or dried. We actually enjoyed it for breakfast one morning at home with scrambled eggs (something South Africans don't do, we found out). We also saw whole yellow fin tuna for sale. Most of the boats were out after crayfish that day.

Bounders Beach - Penguins Only

Simon Town was up next. This is a city with a lot of military history and is currently home to the RSA Navy. The main attraction these days is Boulders National Park where elevated boardwalks permit humans to get close to the colony of African penguins without disturbing them. This was my first penguin experience and I think I could have watched them all day. The sand on their beach was covered with webbed footprints. There were natural nesting sites as ell as planted protected sites with families in the making. We also saw a huge dassie, which is like a big groundhog. He was just sunning himself on a big rock in the brush.

But it was time to head to Cape Point via the Cape Point National Park. This is harsh territory with boulders and scrub bushes but it has an excellent road. Special permits are available for hiking with registered guides, either for the day or for three days in a hut to hut fashion. Our destination was Cape Point lighthouse. Happily due to our wise choice of off-season travel there was actually a place to park the car. We opted for the "easy" 25 minute climb (vs. the rugged 90 minute climb from way below) out to the lighthouse). Some of it was in a fairly steep incline and other parts were stairs. I wore my left knee brace but was so worried about it that I overused my right leg on those stairs. Coming down was harder on the knees, especially the declines, which required baby steps. It might have been wiser to take the funicular, but I survived.

One of many stops along the way!

There was every excuse to stop along the way to catch my breath and gasp over the views on all sides. With every stop we took pictures, and then would find even better views at the next stop. When we got high enough to see two oceans, I felt amazed to be there. The day was brilliantly sunny and pleasantly warm (I took off my sweater while others kept on their winter jackets!). The waves crashed in foam all around down below us. My climbing efforts were rewarded by a veranda table overlooking the eastern bay at the Two Oceans Restaurant and a very good lunch of griddled hake with vegetables; Stro opted for the grilled crayfish. Everything was remarkably fresh.

We are loving the Afrikaans!

There was a lovely shop where we found some items we could not live without, and then we headed to the Cape of Good Hope, which is actually separate from Cape Point and the southwest point of Africa. Again, thank goodness for off-season travel. The line to take photos at the sign was virtually non-existent and everyone was amiable. Ostriches grazed nearby. The surf was huge and due to the rock formations, the crashes were spectacular.

Fortunately we did not have to test this assertion.

Throughout the park we noted that "Baboons are dangerous and attracted by food." But it was not until we had left the park that we saw a large family of baboons crossing the road in front of us. Led by the biggest males, the entourage included females with babies on their backs and many youngsters as well. They were coming from the hills on the left, crossing a stream and the road and then heading down an obvious driveway/lane.

By now we were headed back north on the western side of the peninsula and another fabled sunset over the Atlantic. Sean timed our entire day around getting to the right spot for sunset. It reminded both of us of driving up the coast in California. The road was narrow and curvy and in places there were big views and scary drop-offs. In fact, in one place, we saw the repairs from a huge mud and rock slide that had occurred several years ago, closing the highway for three years of repairs. We drove through several beach towns just south of Cape Town on the ocean that would be too far to commute but great locations for a second home or retirement. Unfortunately very much out of a reasonable price range, despite the weak Rand. These were towns we could see easily from the top of Table Mountain in town.

For reasons of both merit and convenience, other spots in and around Cape Town -- like Robben Island and Table Mountain -- claim more visitors than Cape Point. But we were thrilled to be able to have a full day to devote to it and the help of Raymond and Sean to make it happen. It's a struggle to pick a favorite activity or site, but this one is utterly unique so I give it #1.

Cold and rainy museum day

It's winter in South Africa. When we checked the weather before leaving 90-degree Congo, we saw 60s and 40s at night in Cape Town. We thought, "Oh, a sweater." Wrong. There is 60 and there is 60. When you live "up north" and you go to Florida in the winter and it is 60, it's great. You are on the beach. When you go from Congo to South Africa and it is 60 and rainy, it feels really cold and damp.
So we declared cold and rainy Monday as Museum Day.

The District Six Museum came highly recommended.  Basically, here is the story. Once Apartheid became official in 1948, every day life in a large swath of Cape Town had to change to conform. A diverse, very densely populated neighborhood called District Six had to be demolished and the people sent to segregated housing estates elsewhere. This meant that mixed race Christian families that lived alongside Jews and Muslims were forced into new neighborhoods by color categories.It made no sense except that those in power were exercising it over others. The disconnect had profound social, economic, and personal effects.

District Six street signs on stair risers

The museum documents the history of life in District Six before and after the forced relocations. They have captured the personal stories of people who lived through this upheaval. Our visit was significantly enhanced by a guided tour from Ruth, one of eleven children of a racially mixed marriage. Her story of life in District Six and the impact of the forced upheaval on her widowed white mother put a face on Apartheid. Within days of forced relocation and after announcing the new place would never be home, her mother died.The cause of death on her death certificate was heart failure. She was an otherwise healthy 58 year old. Death from a broken heart is not on the list of causes of death, I suspect.

As moving as the stories encapsulated by District Six are, I wondered if the museum was stuck a bit in the period just before 2000. As critical as it is to claim the history of oppression and to name it, there might be lessons from the many Holocaust museums in the world about how best to marry this mission with witness to oppression to preventing oppression.

We walked from District Six Museum, to the Slave Lodge, one of the oldest buildings in Cape Town and the original site of the slave market. Today this building looks like it could be any old, well-maintained government building. Indeed, recent use included housing the Supreme Court of Cape Province. A stone's throw from the South African Parliament building, the Slave Lodge is now a museum documenting the history of slavery in and around Cape Town as well as promoting all things South African.

Installation pof record labels

In fact, the Slave Lodge as a museum is struggling for an identity. Its exhibits both permanent and temporary fail to offer an overall theme. There is a very well curated multimedia history of slavery in Cape Town as well as a large collection of Dutch and English colonial artifacts (think, clocks and silver). In addition, there is an unusual but very striking installation of colorful record labels hung in curtains that document South African music produced on 78 rpm records.

There is an enchanting protest music exhibit focusing on the songs of protest and the use of music as a means of communicating during the period of Apartheid. When media were in fact controlled by the oppressors, people turned to music to communicate. They composed lyrics in hard-to-translate dialects and sent news of revolution far and wide. Some, like Miriam Makeba, went into exile and told their stories from afar through music.

Traditionally built woman in red block print.

The exhibit that drew me to the museum and remains my favorite was a special exhibition on "isischweschwe" cloth. In other words, it involved fiber and they had me at hello. Actually, this exhibit filled an important gap left by a fabulous exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston called something like "300 Years of Textile Trade." What the MFA exhibit did not include was the importance of the stopover point in South Africa between the Far East and Europe in the sea routes that took over textile trade from the Silk Route.

DaGama 3 Cats Brand

In fact, block printed cotton was introduced to South Africa by the 16-17th C. Portuguese, British and Dutch sea traders stopping en route to Europe from India and China. It was also brought to the Cape by European settlers who had already adopted this style of printed cotton fabric as a result of the Far East trade. The early forms were blue and the term "blaudruck" or blue print was applied. Today there only one manufacturer of the fabric still operating, the "DaGama 3 Cats Blaudruk,"
whose mark is left on the wrong side of the bolt much like a water mark on fine paper. This exhibit showed the use of the fabric in European folk costumes as well as a wide variety of ways it was used in South Africa. Today's top designers are fashioning everything from evening dresses to children's shoes from this cloth. Creativity seems to be running rampant.

Once alerted to it, the alert observer sees isischweschwe everywhere--in waiter shirts, in one-off jacket designs (purchased by one's daughter), and in creative applications to children's clothing. When we head for the Cape of Good Hope--literally to Cape Point--I hope to stop at a store with the largest selection of isischweschwe fabric available on the bolt. Trouble ahead.

Pentecost in Cape Town

Flowers for Pentecost

This is a Pentecost to remember! A bishop arrayed in rich red silk vestments and mitre celebrating the Eucharist in the Cathedral of Saint George, Cape Town. A chamber orchestra and singers performing Mozart's Mass in B-flat K275 throughout the service, the first reading from Acts of the Apostles  done in Afrkaans, English, isiXhosa, Swahili, and German. Smells (incense) and bells galore. Lots of red...in the vestments, flowers, and the apparel of the congregation, right down to the bright red velour running suit on the guy in the pew in front of us. A trilingual bulletin (Afrikaans, English and isiXhosa), which we sensed was routine and not just because of Pentecost. A darling 13 or 14 year old thurifer who did her job with her right arm around the shoulder of an even more adorable 9-10 year old girl (known as "the boat boy" or thurifer in training in the arcane language fop the Anglican church) who carried the spare incense.

Before we even got to Cape Town we had talked about finding an Anglican church for Sunday services to celebrate Pentecost. We have been enjoying the (Catholic) services at the Little Sisters of the Poor in Brazzaville, but as similar as the liturgy may be, it just is not the same as everyone saying the Collect for Purity together in English. So when we discovered we were an easy taxi ride to St. George's Cathedral, where the main service was at 9:30, we decided some things are simply meant to be.

To give you more flavor of the setting, the neo-gothic cathedral was built in the early 19th Century by British settlers. The first service was held on Christmas 1834. In 1847 the first English bishop, Robert Gray, and his wife Sophia showed up, charged to grow the clergy and church presence. It turns out Sophia was beyond the ideal helpmeet. An architect and artist, an accomplished horsewoman, and a skilled keeper of institutional records, Sophia is credited with designing more than 40 new Anglican churches. St. George's, which was already built in imitation of St. Pancras, London, actually did not measure up to the Rt. Rev'd. Gray's image of a cathedral. Today the now-sprawling footprint of St. George's is still evolving, but includes a courtyard garden and labyrinth inspired in part by the sisterhood of St. George's with Grace Cathedral San Francisco. It is the oldest cathedral in Southern Africa and the mother church of the Anglican Diocese of Capetown.

Black Madonna carving

Known as "the people's cathedral," The Cathedral of St. George is distinguished for the fact that it has always been open to all. During the fight to end apartheid this position offered prophetic witness to needed change. Today Bishop Garth Counsell reminded us that as Anglicans we have more in common than we do differences, that in communion we can resolve what differences we have. And indeed in the closing hymn we sang,

Holy Spirit, rushing, burning,

wind and flame of Pentecost,

fire our hearts afresh with yearning

to regain what we have lost.

May your love unite our action,

nevermore to speak alone:

God, in us abolish faction,

God, through us your love make known.

An auspicious beginning for an adventure I have aspired to since 1962, when I read Cry the Beloved Country by Alan Paton.

Dinner at Home with the Dossous

An invitation to dine at someone's home is an honor, no matter where you are in the world. Recently we were honored by such an invitation from the Dossou family, whose daughter Claudia goes to church with us and is a good friend of Stro. Claudia was among the first to participate in President Obama's Young African Leaders Initiative (YALI), through the US Department of State. She is now in a high level job with the Congo branch of the MTN cell phone company doing community relations, corporate social responsibility, and special projects. Her parents, Charlotte and Claude, and her younger brother Teddy were all there.

I think I was most excited about our evening because it was a personal invitation (vs. the diplo circuit) and because I would be able to get past the outer walls of a house and garden. As we drive and walk around here we are always on the outside of mostly nondescript to pretty unkempt metal or concrete walls that hide all the details of the life behind. So it was a delight to enter Charlotte's well-loved and very tidy garden. Her big potted plants border the sitting porch and have obviously never suffered neglect. They have a wall of lemon grass in two varieties, the milder of which made for an excellent infusion at the end of the meal (citronelle).  The walk is bordered by a version of boxwood that is a lighter green and very happy in this climate. In the corner is a moringa olifeira tree, the leaves of which are used in salads and also pounded and ground into a dried herb. It is supposed to cure over 300 maladies -- in other words, it's "good for what ails you," as my grandmother might have said.

Charlotte is a Brazzaville native. She is tall and dresses beautifully in a locally understated way. She speaks French and Lingala and I felt very frustrated that I would not converse with her more, but will try again, even if I have to take a translator. She is active in the fabric business in some way and has a boutique I hope to visit. She recognized the fabric in my pagne as having come from a big Ivorian design house called Woodin. Charlotte is also an esthetician.

Charlotte's husband Claude is a native of Benin and he travels frequently in West Africa and around Congo. He is very active with International Lions Club and is excited that the international president is coming to Congo next year. Claude is much shorter than Charlotte and has a great sense of humor. I can see in Claudia some of his personality and her features clearly come from both parents.

Little brother Teddy is 18 and writing his baccalaureate exams this week. His dream is to work in systems security in the banking industry. He is headed to university in Bordeaux and will study "informatique," or computer science. He has the look of a student and is tall and lanky like his mom. It took awhile but eventually we got Teddy talking, back and forth in English and French but in French very fast!

All of them were involved in playing host, first by offering drinks and some snacks and then assisting us with the buffet. The feast spread on the large colorfully decorated table looked to me to be enough food for twice as many as we were. Charlotte and Claudia had gone to the considerable effort to put together a meal of traditional dishes--manioc, white yam, a Beninois dish of dark greens braised with fish, fried fish, roasted chicken leg quarters, rice, green beans and carrots, a special warm onion relish, a huge platter of salad, smaller salads with hard-boiled eggs and avocados, and an array of fresh fruits, including papaya, watermelon, apples and oranges. And of course her very own pili-pili (very hot pepper sauce). I am enjoying trying everyone's very own pili-pili sauce. So far, Well-come is winning. His is both flavorful and hot.

We started by being served salad on our plates and then sitting in the all-rattan seating area to eat. At the second course, we were invited to continue on our own with lots of hovering to explain what we were eating. The same with the fruit dessert. Thanks to Stro's and Claudia's bilingual skills we managed to carry on a lively conversation throughout the evening.

It took some time to take our leave, which is typical of social events here. One "asks for the road," which is only the beginning of the departure process. Each person says goodbye with two kisses, just as we said hello. The departing guests are wished "bon vent," or good winds. We got into a round of picture-taking with many cameras that prolonged our goodbyes, but in the end the Dossous walked us out of the gate (also customary) to our car. The night was soft with a slight breeze. Our tummies and our hearts were full.

Brazza shopping adventure: supermarket!

You might assume that a place called Park'n Shop would have a parking lot. But not in Brazzaville. Street parking outside is available for those with Parking Karma (Montpelierites know this phenomenon). This very large glass-front grocery store on steroids (they stock freezers, baby strollers, ironing boards and other household items far beyond even a big grocery in the US)  has very high ceilings and sits on a busy corner in the center of Brazzaville. Designed by an Indian architect, it was built just a few years ago by a Chinese construction company time on time, within budget, to specifications.

Double deck carts with two removable baskets are available when you enter the store. The removable part comes in handy at check out when a staff member puts your baskets on the checkout counter and removes the rest of the basket structure. Montpelier Shaw's could take a tip. These carts take up much less room in the aisles and are easy to navigate through narrow spaces. The aisles are wide and the store is immaculate.

This, my first visit, was a continuation in following Well-come around town while he bought what he needed to fix an Indian vegetarian dinner, right down to gluten-free chapatis. Well-come went about his work and we got our own basket just for fun. Of course, our basket was as full as his at the end. We found the wine and liquor section, the snacks section, oohed and ahhed but did not buy in the outrageously priced imported cheese section, and generally engaged in recreational acquisitioning, an old family tradition, along with making up words.

Along the way I could see that for a price one could buy almost anything one could buy in the States or Europe. The large selection of Kellogg's cereals ran to their sugary lines, leading me to a "tsk" about US exports of bad eating habits.  But then I got caught up looking at wine, most of which is French. Nothing looked familiar to me. Even the cheapest champagne was $40/btl and Taittinger much more. Smirnoff's 80-proof vodka on the other hand was about the same price as a fifth at home (I am embarrassed that I am in command of this fact, but there you go). Some items seem reasonably priced, others bear the burden of carbon imprints from shipping. However, it was the only place we saw cauliflower and broccoli, imported from Europe and purchased as part of the vegetable curry enterprise.

I resisted temptation in the fruit juice aisle, for now, by selecting only apricot and mange juices, which I find make great fruit spritzers with club soda (okay, and maybe a splash of vodka). But that's only the beginning. Some fruits are totally new to me and others I have known only in other tropical locations. I intend to do more exploring. But maybe on a Tuesday morning. This was Saturday before noon. The checkout lines moved quickly but were long. We took our own carry bags but noted that those who did not bring their own received bags made of recycled materials that can be reused and are not plastic. The store is open all day but closes from one to three on Saturday, so while we were checking out we heard the "store is closing" signals. At the door we were ushered out by the uniformed guard whose colleagues were probably holding him personally responsible for the timing of their lunch break.

Brazza Shopping Adventures: Marché Total

Need a mini-brioche pan?

On a recent Saturday I won the shopping trifecta--open market, grocery store, and fabrics! Starting with the Marché Total, Stro and I followed Well-come around while he bought fruits and vegetables for a dinner party he was preparing later. The Marché Total is the huge outdoor central market in Brazzaville when you can buy big bunches of fresh sorrel, a new or used whisk and other batterie de cuisine, a wig, fabric, or a watermelon! In other words, you name it, it can probably be found there.

Clay sticks for pregnant women to eat

The section I saw was not pretty. Busy, yes. It was early in the morning, vendors were just setting up. Enough onions for the whole country seemed to be in the process of being unloaded in 50 kg bags and relocated via very rickety wheelbarrows or on the backs of porters. We tried to get out of their way on the narrow dirt paths between sellers spread on the ground with their goods. Garbage is dumped in the center of what must be a wide road when the market is empty so at times we were caught between the garbage pile and sellers. I wondered how often if ever the garbage was bull-dozed out. I was glad I wore my biggest shoes and socks.

Variegated sorrel--makes a fab sour green dish

Goods are sold by the pile or bunch. There are no scales. So if you want tomatoes, you buy a small pile of maybe 5 that have been arranged on a table or ground cloth. Same with cucumbers. You never buy one cuke. Early in the visit we came across a woman bundling spinach for sale. She had a 7 months old baby girl who looked just like her tied to her back. The baby was completely asleep. Her mother could stand, sit, twist and the baby would just rock in her tied-on cradle of cloth. Her bigger sister was nearby scratching some kind of writing on an old brick wall. Clearly, they were there for the day. When we bought spinach from her we asked if we might take a photo of her baby. She thought that was very funny but agreed. Thanks to the iPhone I could show her the photo right away.

Our new market friend

One of the offerings that struck me hard was sticks of clay. I stood and looked at these piles trying to figure out what it was. My first guess was fat incense sticks. I finally had to have Well-come explain. This is clay to eat, not use like Play-Dough. Women, especially pregnant women, crave it and eat it. The craving may be due to a nutritional deficiency (perhaps iron). In another lifetime I worked as a medical social worker with young pregnant women from rural North Carolina who ate clay. They had their own secret holes where the clay was sweet and they would not tell anyone where their holes were for fear of being poached. I hope those days are over in the US, but they are not over here.

The best sight was an individual vendor selling a plastic device for slicing, dicing, and doing other magic with fruits and vegetables. The day seemed oppressively hot to me but he sported a cap that would have made a Greenlander warm in winter, complete with earflaps down. He attracted quite a crowd but did not speak loudly to attract attention. If he had a spiel it was quiet. Reminded me of the days of those TV ads for wondrous convenience devices like Propeel's Vegematic, only without the yelling.

Onion bag recycled to hold potatoes

Although there are no recycling programs that Americans or Europeans would recognize as such in Congo, everything gets reused to the extent possible. Witness all the old liquor bottles in the market that were filled with peanuts for sale. Or the big mesh bags with "Spanish onions" on the label that held small potatoes. Plastic bags have been outlawed (Vermont: take a tip) and replaced by reusable bags made from recycled material. Various containers that once held food or cosmetics were for sale in the market, ready for purposing.

The people of the market were mostly women, many with babies and toddlers, some very elderly. To my eye they seemed to take little interest or pride in their goods. They were not aggressive. Everyone says "bonjour" when it is said to them. But there are few smiles. This was the most stark contrast to most of the markets I have seen around the world. From Montpelier to Istanbul, market sellers typically show great pride in what they have on offer. I remember an elderly Italian lady in the West Side Market in Cleveland back in the 1960s. She had to interview you before she let her tomatoes go home with you. She probably grew those tomatoes. But even in India where the vegetable sellers were not the farmers, they proudly built pyramids of green beans and eggplants to show their veggies to good advantage. I left the market wondering about this--was the pride missing or could I not see it?

Sunset Over the Atlantic

Looking down hill across the lagoon to the surf.

Congo's Cote Sauvage, or "wild coast" lies along the eastern edge of the Atlantic Ocean, not far from the Equator. My recent visit provided a new experience--watching the sun set instead of rise over the Atlantic. Given the proximity to the Equator, it was not a lingering experience. There is a ball of fire and then dark. Short and spectacular. Followed by mosquitoes.

After a busy weekend in and around Pointe Noire we gave ourselves over to the temptations of a quiet beach resort for five days. Malonda Lodge (www.malondalodge.com) sits on a bluff with views of a tidal lagoon, sand barriers, and wild surf. It offers a beautifully landscaped respite in simple traditional surroundings that fit in naturally--27 thatched roof bungalows with porches, open air bar and restaurant, lovely swimming pool, tennis courts, and lots of beach to walk. French continental breakfast of pastries and coffee with juice was included but omelets were also available to order. Dinners were on offer a la carte and to my delight offered great variety and uniformly high quality. The fresh hearts of palm salad and a brochette of grilled "kareng," a meaty white fish,won for my best menu picks.

Our hut--with air-conditioning!

The brace and hard sand helped on the beach walks.

We found the tide chart on the bar bulletin board and timed most of our beach walking for morning low tide so as to have some relatively hard sand to walk on. I found it easier to walk barefoot and by the third walk or so I was grateful to have my knee brace. Walking on sand--even hard sand--requires more of our ligaments and muscles than we are aware of! The strong undertow and the huge waves were enough to keep me at toe-dipping occasionally.

How many times have I taken this picture in my life?

A reward for coming out at low tide was seeing the local fishermen at work. Keep in mind we never saw more than maybe three people total on the beach. It was pretty deserted. But in the morning the stick fishing polls with line but no reels were in the sand here and there waiting for a strike. A pair of pirogues (narrow but heavy carved out wooden boats) at the edge of the lagoon offered one guy a chance to pole out to fish. Our last two days were national holidays, so we saw a pair of probably city dudes with more serious looking reels out for a day of surf casting. They caught a large sea eel, which they said made good eating. It made me think of the first time I saw live eel slithering in sawdust in the market in The Netherlands--it put me off ever tasting smoked eel (gerookte paling), a national delicacy.

On the occasion when we did see someone, we performed a traditional greeting of a stranger. That is, we raised both our hands up and waved them back and forth. This is a way of "seeing" or acknowledging someone and assuring them you are not a threat. The gesture was always returned. I have observed that in social situations here it seems very important to acknowledge individually everyone you might possibly know and maybe even introduce yourself to someone you do not know. The two-handed greeting wave is slightly less personal but essential.

Most days (also true in Brazzaville) seem to start out cloudy and then get sunny. Our weather was perfect for the beach. The surf thunders in this place. Up close it is loud and even up on the bluff, I was aware of its constancy. In fact when I woke in the middle of the first night I mistook it for thunder and thought maybe we were going to have a big storm.  Alas, we had no dramatic storms--just sunny days. The sun is strong and requires pretty close attention to sun screen. I reacquired some dormant freckles but did not get burned!

Pool Goddess

Malonda Lodge is the dream and vision of a Portuguese woman named Grace, who has been creating it for 30+ years and has visions for the future. She is about to open a large conference center and gift shop.Her French husband Gerard is retired from the oil industry and now supports Grace's vision full-time, ready to help out when the pump goes out (which it did) or the power fails or flutters (a regular experience). They are gracious hosts, able assisted by two labrador retrievers (father and son) who bring guests their bill in a bag carried in their mouth.

The cashier

This is a place to go and stay--not only because of the amenities, but also because going back and forth into town is a slog. The access road is an unpaved, spine-jarring experience, followed by a paved road full of traffic, pedestrians, and lots of very noisy commercial activity along the way. I have learned anew how to ride in a car here. The worst thing one can do it resist the road. It is far better to think of myself as a willow or an invertebrate and simply give in to the bounces and rolls. It does help to be in a vehicle with good shocks, which not all the taxis have.

We left Malonda reluctantly but until we received our bill from one of the house dogs--who walked up with a raffia bag around his neck containing the bill! How could one not pay up to such a charming cashier? But we left in anticipation of a busy fun weekend continuation of the Best of Brazza Tour. Although the return flight is quite short, Stro tried to get us reseated in the exit rows. The flight attendant took one look at me and shook her head, saying "en peu age" (a little old). Oops. That was a first. And she didn't even see my knee brace.