My First Trip to South Africa
In August 2019, I flew from Sao Paolo, Brazil to Cape Town, South Africa, via Johannesburg. This was my first time going. I was worried about malaria, being robbed, and all the things the US government warns about on the STEP program website. I figured six months of solo bus travel around South America had taught me to trust my intuition and given me enough travel smarts to see this beautiful continent.
Arriving at the Johannesburg airport late, with under an hour to run to baggage claim, check my bags again, and board my onward flight, I was stopped by a dog-sniffing queue. We had to place our carry-on luggage against the wall while an adorable dog smelled all of them. That’s when I realized I was carrying coca leaves from Peru with me. Shit. Would I be arrested for carrying a substance that can be used to make cocaine? Thankfully, the dog passed my bag. But then a second dog sniffed, and a third dog. I started sweating. I would surely miss my connecting flight, though hopefully not due to a cavity search.
What seemed like 20 minutes later, we were all released, my coca leaves intact. I ran to collect and re-check my bags. Happily, I made my transfer flight to Cape Town. Unfortunately, one of my bags did not. I reported it missing at the relevant counter, then left to get a taxi. That’s when I realized I had left my iPhone at the lost luggage counter. I presumed someone would steal it, despite best efforts to run back as fast as I could. (Pro tip – don’t run back through customs once you’ve exited, it tends to piss off the authorities.) My phone was safe and returned to me. This was yet another example, in my travels, of how built-up pre-judgments from media about a place you visit are often completely wrong.
As my taxi brought me to my hotel, in the center of Greenmarket Square, I looked out the window. I was in Africa. I WAS IN AFRICA!!!!!!! My heart kept skipping beats as we drove. When I saw Table Mountain, I had the strangest feeling of returning home, though I had never been before. I would continue to be mesmerized by it every day I was in Cape Town. (Almost three months.)
Once checked in to my hotel, I took in the area, and quickly learned I should be back by dark. I didn’t disobey. The following day, I planned to walk to the V&A Waterfront and asked for directions. I got a stern look as the concierge said, “You do not walk to the waterfront, you take an Uber.” I was stunned because it was daylight but did as I was told. On another day, I walked just three blocks from the hotel, and noticed a man walking by check out my necklaces to see if they had any value. I zipped up my jacket and walked back towards my hotel, now understanding their warning.
I quickly befriended Myles, who ran a restaurant down the street, and Fred who ran a biltong shop with the best biltong in the entirety of the continent of Africa. I can speak with 100% certainty on this as I have been to five of the 56 African countries and disputed areas. Though Greenmarket Square is one of the more dangerous areas in Cape Town, I found it had the most community, at least before Covid. Shop owners shared resources and welcomed one another’s patrons. In fact, Myles ran out of wine one day, and ran to the bar across the street to get me some. It was like one big family, separated only by the distance between their shops and restaurants.
Walking around Greenmarket, I was surprised to notice the color of my skin. I was literally the only white person around. I had never stood out before. I felt alarmed because I couldn’t hide it. I felt oddly ashamed, like my skin was too white, and made me stick out in so many ways. Suddenly, I thought of the events and meetings I have attended in my life, in America, where someone else was the minority. I understood, for a moment, what they must feel, every day, in every room. I was humbled.
Another unexpected experience in Africa was learning more about slavery than anyone had ever explained to or taught me in America. I learned about apartheid, and still have no idea how that happened. After years of feeling, in America, that it’s taboo to talk about the racism that divides us, or know where to start, I found I could talk openly about apartheid, slavery, and racism with people in Africa, regardless of color.
Instead of seeing the danger everyone warned me about, I saw incredible beauty as I traveled across Africa. Locals I met wanted to be helpful and had beautiful stories. Colorful fabrics dazzled me as we changed from one tribe location to another. Once we reached the endless land in Namibia, I felt a visceral connection to it, coupled with fascination at the wild animals wondering freely, and me being the traveling zoo for them.
I made a new friend in Cape Town who took me to her church, where I participated in beautiful singing and dancing. I volunteered at their soup kitchen which served food to the inhabitants of a nearby squatter camp. It was heartbreaking to see innocent young children playing and see their potential future in the faces of the bitterly angry teens and the downtrodden adults living there. I went into the Kayelitsha township with a guide, and learned it’s not just corrugated houses, it is, in fact, an entire community spread from wealthy to poor. I saw things I couldn’t believe, and yet, I also saw surprising happiness in the bitterest of conditions. Every facet of humanity was reflected back to me.
Africa touched my heart and my soul. I experienced the depth of poverty and also the beauty of community in ways I had never witnessed. I miss the land, the people and the animals unlike anyplace I have traveled to in my life. I can’t wait to return.
Connect with the Author – Heather Markel
Website: https://heatherbegins.com
Instagram: @heathermarkel
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/heatherjourneys/
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