Searchin' for the meaning of "higher education" in such places as Finland, Oxford, Portugal, South Africa, and Athens, Georgia, USA.
The (mis)adventures of academia, travel, culture, and the best cup of tea.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Nightlife in Cape Town!

The Backpack, where I stayed during my Cape Town visit hosts a drumming circle on Thursday nights. So, my Canadian friend and I joined the Congo boys for African drumming. I never knew how raw your hands get as a drumming neophyte or just how musically UNtalented I am. Nonetheless, we had a great night and the Canadian was proposed to by one of the drumming instructors from Congo (totally normal in Africa!)

On Friday night, I signed up for an unique tour of the Reggae culture in Cape Town. We started at Alan's (quite a character) house who lived in Jamaica for a good portion of his life, he fed us fresh banana bread as educated us on the origins of Reggae. Then, we drove to the black township where a local musician hosted us in his house/music studio. His wife cooked us traditional Rastafarian food (vegetarian curry) and we listened to a spontaneous bass guitar performance. But the REAL cultural experience was in the Marcus Garvey township at the REGGAE DANCEHALL in the black Rastafarian township. Ok, let me just say I walked into a big puff of smoke. Ganga is a sacred weed to the Rastafarian community as they believe the spirit lives in the ganga. The evening was quite relaxed (surprise, surprise) and people just danced the night away until the lights went out (literally, a black out hit the township). This was yet another night in a black township, where I was one of four other whites. I actually like this feeling. I have quickly learned to read my gut feeling about people...and there are a good load of friendly and compassionate people in the townships...
I went to the toilet shack in the dancehall and a woman said..."Don't go in there, it is really dirty, I will take you to a clean toilet." She grabbed my hand and we walked out the front door, around the corner, through a hole in the fence and she opened the door to what looked like another shack. It was a clean toilet. She guarded the door and walked me back to the dancehall and told me all about the Rastafarian men (they are NO good for dating!)

1 comment:

Mama Weimer said...

Leasa, as much as you like to have fun, you were riight in your element with bongos and dancing. Looks like you wee having a really good time. The toilet was not in the bushes this time. Lucky you!!!!