I forgot to mention to all of you lovely supporters who have bookmarked my South Africa and Nepal blogs that I have moved my blog onto my photography website, www.wanderinglens.net. The site design is brand new, and my blog is better than ever. Talk to you soon.

K

posted: 03/07/08

You just never know when you'll be invited to a party thrown by the king of the Zulus. King Goodwill Zwelithini.

So here I am, after a full morning of driving around deciding what to do, with money in hand waiting to pay for a night at the Kosi Bay backpackers lodge, and my phone rings. "Kelsey, where are you?"

Now lets think for a minute. It's been my mission the whole time coming to this area, to see Kosi Bay. The backpackers isn't even on the bay, so I can stay here by myself, or go to a pary thrown by King Zwelithini, and stay another night with some new friends. That was a tough call.

I hightailed it out of the backpackers, money in hand, leaving the clerk with a bewildered look on his face, saying "what am I going to tell the boss?" and went straight back to meet Lorato.

We drive through Ingwavuma, parked, and hitched a ride into the kings compound. Some pre ceremony singing and dancing was going on, a group of old Zulu men, and another group of old Swazi men.

The king emerges from his home w/ little fanfare besides a few hand shakes to a line of men standing by his door, and goes off to choose which two cows are to be slaughtered.

The precession heads out of the compound to the tent where the ceremony is being held. Huge masses of women are dancing. Long speaches inside the tent are going on. They bring the podium onto the grass in front of the tent for the kings speach.

Of course this whole time I'm playing my usual game of "I've got a camera, I'm important, don't question me" Little do they know. So for the speach I'm in the unfortunate position of sitting right at the kings feet in the middle of a very large opening. All the women are still sitting around where they were dancing, creating a large square of un occupied grass, where me and a half a dozen camera men are sitting.

That's a great place to be if you want to photograph a man speaking, but honestly, it's a boring shot. I didn't even take one. After over an hour of listening to a drawn out speach in a language I don't understand, I finally get too bored, and back myself away from the camera men, get up, and walk away. If I were in the UK, I'd've gotten shot. Fortunately the Zulu's don't have the same western concept of etiquite that the brits do. Hardly anyone batted an eye.

Tea with the brits and obligations?

Dancing with the Zulu's and who gives a shit?

Your choice

More dancing and singing, and as it gets dark the ceremony ends and we head out. Or so I thought. I find out a little later while having dinner at a friends house that the party just broke from 6 to 9, then will resume and go all night. When I left their house in Ingwavuma, there were fireworks and music coming from the Kings compound. I went home.

Tomorrow I'll see the bay.

--Tomorrow--

I get up in the morning and decide I'm making it to the bay. I made it. I drove almost all the way to the Mozambique border, then turned down a dirt road on a whim, and ended up at the entrance to the nature reserve. The guy at the gate wouldn't let me in cause I didn't have a passport or a 4x4. After a bit of chatting, he lets me park my car outside the gate and walk in. It's over 40 degrees C and I'm walking in loose hot sand. I was dying. The pictures are worth it. I walked the couple km's out the the mouth on the Indian Ocean, then turned around and walked back.

Everything but the heat was lovely. I still don't know why I chose to come to a hot place, I always do, and I always complain. I don't really like the heat.

posted: 02/25/08

Hello there.

It's been a long time. Since I left you in Nepal, a lot has changed, but every thing is the same.

The exciting news at the moment is that operation of the first ever self sustaining Wizzy Courier route just began.

I've filmed it too so you know what the hell I'm talking about, but it will take me a while to edit the footage, so stay tuned.

Meet Mr. Chinsammy. He is the Deputy Principal of Habeni Primary, and a man dedicated to his students. Every morning, he drives the rugged 20km drive to reach his school in the Habeni Area, an ex-apartheid Zulu reserve.

On his way out of Eshowe, Mr. Chinsammy passes Eshowe High School. In a quick 2 min. stop, he picks up the days emails, and the new web scoops requested the previous day.

Habeni Primary has no telephone line. They have no running water, only large containers for rain water collection. Approximately 70 percent of the students are orphans. The feeding scheme, funded by the department of education, at times, may be their only meal in a day. Many cannot afford the 20R (@3) taxi ride to the nearest library in Eshowe, and a 20km (12 mile) walk each way is more than the most energetic 7 year can tackle after school. So, how can these students benefit from email and internet access?

How do they get it?

Wizzy Digital Courier. The brain child of Andy Rabagliati, Wizzy's innovative software allows Mr. Chinsammy to physically carry his disconnected internet on a USB stick.

A Wizzy I-Box was installed at Eshowe High School. Utilizing their existing ADSL line, they have generously sponsored the internet connection for Habeni Primary, at no cost.

At 7:25 am, Mr. Chinsammy plugs his USB stick into the I-Box at Eshowe High, and collects his new offline content. Upon arriving at school, he plugs his USB stick into his I-Box there, and the new emails and web content is available to the whole lab. They have email access to the world where there is no phone line, daily international news where no newspaper is sold, educational websites, and any info their hears desire.

So how does this affect these children, who's household incomes are often solely provided by their grand parents pensions of R740 (@110) a month?

Their perception of the world has grown from walking distance, to the entire globe. They can follow what the world around them is doing. They can learn from others mistakes before they make them. Vital health information can be relayed, and up to date. Crucial in an area where over 29% of the population is infected with HIV/AIDS, and every year 236 people still die from tuberculoses.

Without ready access to information, how can these students break free from a vicious cycle of oppression, poverty, and ignorance?

At one point, we have all seen the uncanny ability of young children to understand technology. By starting out on computers, and learning to use the internet at an early age, these children are getting a kick start on life.

When they reach high school, they will be armed with the ability to further their education, find scholarships, and possibly move on to university.

When they reach the job market, they will no longer be afraid of a technological work place. The number of jobs in which they posses the skill set, will dramatically increase. Their opportunities in life will broaden along with their perspective. Given the chance, any one can achieve wonders.

Thanks to innovative solutions provided by Wizzy Digital, despite poor economic situations, and a lack of infrastructure, the students of Habeni Primary School, and other school like it will receive a broader education, and be better prepared for the technologically enhanced life that awaits them.

When given the opportunity, every one can succeed.

posted: 02/27/2008

It's a mild breeze blowing through dry grass, providing the only relief from a blistering heat

Groups of quiet observers squatting in the only shade to be found, silently feeling the earth rotate

An ever willfull life, being worked to the ground in the oppressive heat

Where rivers turn to sand rescinding back to land.

Sung are the songs of the grass and the weeds

And to worthy mates those songs do lead

Leaves always swaying in trees, waiting to be eaten.

This is a land of nature

This is the land of man

Predators roam free dying to eat

While life moves by under the heat.

To go without, means more will come soon.

for now I sit, in this African afternoon.