A Journey To The End Of Africa
By Reuben Abati

I found myself recently in Cape Town, the well-planned, and enchanting South African city that never fails to make an impression each time you visit it. It is cleaner and much lovelier than similarly impressive cities in Europe. It is a city with a soul, with character and beguiling contrasts.

The discovery of such a beautiful spot in sub-saharan Africa is a poignant reminder that beauty is not alien to the African landscape, beauty is hewn into the African landscape by the Ultimate Maker of all things, the great architect himself but it takes a great deal of human effort and organization to extract that beauty from the landscape and turn it into poetry. Cape Town is a poetry composed from flora and fauna by sheer human effort; whereas that other South African city, Johannesburg, is fast becoming an elegy unto man's capacity to also destroy and reduce that which is beautiful, Cape Town seems unspoiled. South Africa is not just a rainbow nation on account of its racial diversity; its many colours can be seen in the organization of its landscape, in the tonality of its people's music. Cape Town intrigues its visitors. In 1580, Sir Francis Drake had enthused that "this Cape is the most stately thing and the fairest cape we saw in the whole circumference of the earth."

The evidence survives in the luxuriant majesty of the Table Mountain, and the heavenly urban settlements carved out of the mountains, and the sea side, out of heights and valleys, passes and low plains. Cape Town is also the city of fairy tales. Pat Hopkins in his Ghosts of South Africa (2006) writes about the treachery of the Southern seas of Africa, and the jagged coastline, wild weather, and ghosts, the most famous of them all being The Flying Dutchman whose story originated around the Cape in the mid-17th century. "In mid-17th century" we are told, "a Dutch Indian company trader, Der Fliegende Hollander (The Flying Dutchman) captained by Hendrik van der Decken, ran into trouble while rounding the Cape, lost its steering and floundered. The determined skipper, rather than abandon ship, cursed God and swore to continue to cruise if necessary, "until judgement day".

The ghosts are no longer so visible: but the beauty of Cape Town and its suburbs is: Simon Town, Devil's Peak, Chapman's Peak, Clifton, Fish Hoek, Lion's Head, clean, lovely beaches, houses that make you catch your breath, a city centre that is so well laid out you are tempted to pinch yourself to be sure you are in Africa, a University of Cape Town that sits atop a hill overlooking the city, bookshops that are well-stocked, a night life that is open to those who are seeking fresh discoveries, and women: the pretty, and the not so pretty (Nigerian girls are more beautiful, though). It is no wonder Cape Town is now the conference capital of Africa, and its Conference Centre, one of the busiest spots in the city. If there is any trace of those ghosts of old, it is perhaps represented by Cape Town's special wind, the fierce South Easter, or the Cape Doctor, which was furiously at work during my visit. South Africans are excited by it. They romanticize it. I think it is somewhat harsh on the skin.

Each time I hit Cape Town, I do so running. I am lucky with the presence in the city of my former coursemate in the United States, Chris, a senior and experienced journalist with the South African BusinessDay, and a most generous fellow, whose company is always a delight. Chris never tires of showing me different parts of Cape Town and beyond, in spite of his busy schedule as a newsman. We were both Hubert H. Humphrey Fellows in Journalism at the University of Maryland, College Park, 1996-97.

Before linking up with Chris this time around, I had set off on a journey of discovery of my own in the company of fellow Nigerians. Nigerians have a way of bonding together like twins whenever they are abroad. I guess this is due to shared feelings of aloneness, curiousity and vulnerability in a foreign land.. My new found gang was interested in locating a Nigerian restaurant, to get away from hotel food and have a taste of home cuisine. We soon found ourselves in the Portlands area of Cape Town where at 2, Central Avenue, a Nigerian, Ngozi Owie, MBA, mother of two, had set up EHL House, a Bed and Breakfast, which serves tasteful Nigerian food, from isi ewu to nkwobi, edi kaikong, afan, starch, banga, afia ifere, ngwo ngwo, efo riro, snail, to asun...all of which you can wash down with Star, Heineken and other brands of Nigerian beer, including the famous Nigerian palmwine. We settled down and ate like starved virgins. I later checked the guest book. The Vice President, Goodluck Jonathan, former Speaker, Patricia Etteh, and a long list of journalists who of course can be trusted to smell out the local fauna in any foreign land, had been guests at the EHL.

We later took a trip to the Table Mountain National Park, and the Cape of Good Hope. Our guide was a most lovely South African lady, Arnette, Mkpe Abang's Godmother, a communications consultant in an advert agency. There are many South Africans who genuinely love their country and who would, at no cost enthusiastically show off their country's best assets. I know Chris and his wife Pita. I met Arnette. How many Nigerians are willing to say a good word about their own country? Going to the Cape of Good Hope, two hours out of the city, the beauty of the country side was unmistakable, with a bit of South African history, represented by such spots as the Pollsmoor Prison, the President's Cape Town Villa and Robben Island.

Tricky narrow roads, carved out of the mountains, and baboons coming unto the highway. Tourists stooped and took their photographs. Someone gave them sweets and one little guerrilla took over the road battling with a wrap of sweet. Squirrels and rabbits could be seen promenading majestically. I thought of bush meat delicacy and how nice it would be to grab one of those squirrels. But the South Africans are eco-friendly. I am told you are not allowed to grab bush meat, certainly not within the vicinity of the National Park. The problem is that everywhere that I visited seemed to have been turned into a National Park, with flora and fauna enjoying as much post-apartheid liberty as human beings.

The Cape of Good Hope, with its old light house, the Flying Dutchman Funicular, Curio shop etc is often advertised as the most south westerly point of Africa, the very point where two major waters, the Indian Ocean and the Atlantic meet. The South Africans have invested heavily in tourism, generating substantial annual revenue from tourism. Every summer, tourists troop to the Cape of Good Hope. They want to see the end of Africa. Is Nigeria selling anything to tourists? Or are we not so self-defeating? We could hardly find space to park Arnette's car. But really the end of Africa lies somewhere else, at Cape Agulhas, a lesser known community, also about two hours out of Cape Town, indeed the authors of the leaflet on the Cape of Good Hope locate the original most southern promontory as follows: "Geographically however, the Indian Ocean joins the Atlantic Ocean at Cape Agulhas National Park".

My friend, Chris van Gass, has his home at Cape Agulhas. His wife, Pita also runs a Bed and Breakfast there called The Pebble Beach. Every weekend, Chris goes home to Cape Agulhas and returns later on Sunday to work in Cape Town. Would I love to see the authentic end of Africa?, he had offered. It is a two-hour drive. I hadn't seen Chris's family since we left the US in 1997. Kate and Olivia, his two young daughters are now big girls as we say. Kate is a university teacher doing a Ph.D in Linguistics, Olivia is a violinist, and a social work volunteer. We set out for Cape Agulhas, through Somerset West, Sir Lowrie's Pass, Bardensdorf, Caledon etc. At Sir Lowrie's Pass, when you look down, the beauty of the Cape Peninsula unfolds like the petals of a well-scented flower. We drove through plain fields, wine fields, wheat farms, pine tree plantations, sheep and cattle grazing, so much wealth, so much beauty. I listened to Chris offer a speech about the differences in terms of taste and pricing between wines produced by Corporations and those rolled out by Co-operatives. Such a beautiful countryside, right in an African country: Now, I began to understand why the Americans spoke a little more longingly about South Africa and treated Nigeria like a problem country. What we need to do in Nigeria is to organise our country a bit more sensibly and explore other economic opportunities apart from oil and gas. Chris had quietly pointed out that we were in the Afrikaan side of the country.

We got to Cape Agulhas at night and headed straight for the local enjoyment spot, later joined by Pita and her 88-year old mother, a very active octogenarian with a brilliant mind. Every community has a soul. The duty of the visitor is to locate the pulse or be guided towards it. The following morning, Chris and I set out on a tour of the community. The Harbour, the lovely well-laid out streets, rich houses, an amazing community chiseled out of the landscape, a tribute to human capacity. Cape Agulhas is a brand new community growing at a furious pace, but land is now expensive, the cost of real estate is rising, and it is not difficult to see why. This is the end of Africa, the farthest point in Africa.

The roads in Cape Agulhas are the last roads in Africa, and the road to Chris's house is the very last road itself. Outside my room at The Pebble Beach, was the sea, nothing but the horizon, the only boundary was provided by mice, birds, especially the Blue Crane, South Africa's national bird, jagged rocks jutting out of the sea, white pebbles. There were bush fowls and big snails by the window. I had suggested that we should capture some of these and prepare them as delicacy but my hosts disagreed. They'd rather preserve the animal species. On the other side of the community, there were highlands, rocks of varying shapes, and all around so much silence, not eerie, but divine, making Cape Agulhas one of the most inspiring spots in Africa if not the whole world. The lesson of Agulhas: there is no such thing as an abandoned space: with human imagination beauty can be carved out of the most unlikely places.

We visited the very point where Africa ends. This has not yet been developed into a tourist attraction, but there are landmarks, a stone marker, part of which has been stolen, and two pictorial boards. Agulhas is a Portuguese word for "needle." Portuguese explorers around the Cape in the 14th Century discovered that at a precise point around Cape Agulhas, the needle of their compass pointed Northwards without any deviation. At that point till date, is the last point of the longitude of Africa, beyond it is the Indian Ocean kissing the Atlantic. In the horizon, ships could be seen, closer home is the remains of a shipwreck, that has become part of the local folklore.

South Africa is truly an interesting country. But only the white sections enjoy the advantages. A sharp, striking contrast is provided by the poverty of the black population. There is an emergent black middle class yes, but the majority of the black population is trapped in townships, in tin houses and congested spaces. The beauty of the land is punctuated by encounters with black settlements, where all the stories about HIV/AIDS, poverty, rape and violence seem to be common staple. South Africa is still economically, a racially divided country with little racial mixing. The Springboks won the Rugby World Cup and there was joint celebration of the victory by both Blacks and Whites even if few Blacks play Rugby. But that is all there is to post-apartheid racial mixing. There is greater freedom of movement and choice in South Africa today than there was during the apartheid years. Yes, this is an achievement that cannot be overlooked. But this is a troubled country, with an uncertain future.

Thabo Mbeki and Jacob Zuma are busy fighting over the leadership of the African National Congress (ANC). ANC is the party is in power, and will remain so forever it seems, but it is split down the middle. There is so much violent crime in the country, with Johannesburg now practically a dangerous zone: Lucky Dube has been killed, Mike Larkin, a commercial law professor was also stabbed to death because he wouldn't give up his bag; service delivery is poor, corruption is flourishing in the new South Africa. Mark Gevisser has just written an uneven but interesting book titled "The Dream Deferred: Thabo Mbek (2007, 892 pp)." It took him eight years to put together. It is a flattering portrait of the South African President, but is the South African dream deferred, or is it drying up like a raisin in the sun? Or "maybe it just sags like a heavy load". Our biggest fear is that South Africa may one day, turn out like Zimbabwe.

Robot  # 1 | 16.12.2007 10:13

I found myself recently in Cape Town, the well-planned, and enchanting South African city that never...Read the full article.

ifeolooni  # 2 | 17.12.2007 16:15

mr abati have u sorted out those staffs cos i blive ds is nt time for beautiful city but to state your position on the scheming in the guardian just like mbeki and zuma abati and co are knocking out their staffs:D thnk you sir!