The Backpack, where I stayed during my

Cape Town visit hosts a drumming circle on Thursday n
ights. So, my Canadian friend and I joined the Congo boys for
Af
rican 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 C

ape 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
cultu
ral 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!)