THE GLORY OF MURALS

Baking in the April sunshine

Down in the gorge, a river runs

IN REHANA'S WORDS

Sunday April 7, 2013

Sitting on the stoep of St James Lodge, cobbled with grey and golden stone. The sun is setting behind us, and there’s a shadow climbing the mountain ahead. We’re ringed by mountains, terraced up to its highest slopes with fields of mielies, some stacked into neat rows of triangular bushels. People probably walk the distance we would call a hike to plant and tend and harvest their mielies.

For a village with a population of around 1 000 (my estimate) St James has a lot to offer. To our left is a gorge and the river that carved it flows between walls of black and grey. St James Catholic School probably contributes 400 souls to the village population. There’s a convent as well, with a garden rich with vegetables and late-season apricots.

The church is astounding. Built of ancient stone like many buildings in the village, every inch of it except the floor has been decorated with the most intricate murals.

Inside St James Church

Phineas who opened the church for us

The children at the school have big dreams, but you can hear the nerves in their voices when they ask casually, “so how is it in Joburg?” You look at their beautiful, hopeful, ambitious faces and you want to warn them to stay away from the shitty city. You start to explain that you’re so glad you escaped from there to here, but you can’t crush their dreams. Yes, you can study pharmacy there, and engineering, you tell them.

There’s a shadow climbing up the mountain. It’s shaped like an eagle. I don’t know when last I watched a shadow climb a mountain. The ring of peaks to the left is bathed in rosy sunshine.

I tried to read earlier, but I couldn’t. There’s too much to do, too much to see in this tiny village and down in the gorge where the river winds its way through the mountains. 
I’m glad we’re choosing places like this village, where people stop to ask who you are and tell you a little about themselves. A few days into our trip and we’re already learning so much.

Oh, one last thing about being a member of the Landcruiser family – when I woke up and stepped out of the rondavel this morning, there was a wizened old man smiling at me, before I had my first cup of coffee which may have allowed me to return his smile. “Lesiba,” he said, pointing at himself. 
Elias, our host at the lodge, explained that the man played a lesiba, a traditional instrument, which was now being waved in front of my face. The man was going to play for me, Elias said, and I should give him money afterwards.

The lesiba has a mournful tone

A few minutes later Elias presented me with a menu for St James community tourism. We could hike to the river for R400 with a guide who will cost R80; we could do a village tour for R250 each and have lunch thrown in at someone’s house, who should also be paid. Or we could do a pony trek. 
I chose the pony trek. It was the cheapest item on the menu, but those who know me know that I really love horses and was planning a ride in Lesotho long before I got here.

Going back to my eagle-shaped shadow now. Can’t look down at a screen when there’s a spectacle of light and shadow playing on the mountains ahead of me.

THINGS I FEAR MOST ABOUT THIS JOURNEY I’VE PLANNED FOR YEARS

1. Toilets. Without a doubt my worst fear. So far so good. Noses pinched tight closed when we pass the pit latrines at St James Primary, but our lodge had a splendid en-suite offering with a fancy shower offering almost warm water. We were en-suite at Karmel Guest Farm as well, after we lowered our tent’s ladder right down to the steps of the bathroom door. Claw foot bath and all!

2. What if I don’t like this adventure? I don’t really like camping and I’m terrified of ablution blocks. Fortunately, I’ve made no promises (I hope) and we could go on holiday for a year to somewhere else if this doesn’t work out. Perhaps a tropical island with an all-inclusive resort?

3. Jules and I will snarl at each other when we can’t find a toothbrush, a tweezers or our gas tank key (don’t know yet whether we have one, or two). An adventure may test our relationship.

4. I will miss the people I love terribly. I’ve never been away for so long before. Our cellphones are working.

5. Personal safety. This fear shrunk to a peanut months ago when Outsurance told us we’ll pay much, much less after we cross the border. Since we left home there hasn’t been a locked door between us and the world – and it’s been just fine.