And so we move on to Tuesday… Brother, what a day that turned out to be! Up bright and early, in time to get out and catch the nine o’clock hotel shuttle to the waterfront, although our hotel is right on the waterfront. (smile) But it’s a convoluted trip to get where we wanted to go, to the docks for the ferry to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela spent some 18 of his 27 years in prison, having been sentenced to life, for treason by the white apartheid government.
We bought our tickets at the Mandela Waterfront Museum, then had breakfast at a small café nearby. At ten thirty we boarded the small ferry, Sea Princess for the trip across the Cape Town Bay (Atlantic Ocean) to the Island. By the way, the ferry was full. That’s one thing about South Africa; they’re certainly mining the tourism aspects of their first Black President in a big way. That includes the Apartheid Museum in Joburg, which seemed to me to be more of a shrine to Mandela than a history of the fight against apartheid.
Anyway the ferry trip took approximately thirty minutes to the island. Once there, we boarded a bus for an excursion around the small island, can’t remember the exact size the guide on the bus told us, but definitely not more than about 5 square miles. Apparently the island had been first a leper colony before being turned into a prison.
Then after the bus tour, we were dropped off at the prison gates, where an ex-prisoner took us on a guided tour of the prison, showing us the old prison enclosures that were supposed to hold thirty something prisoners on double bunks, but often held fifty. That still holds true in many of today’s prisons, where overcrowding is still a serious problem.
Then we were shown the small cells where Mandela and some of the leaders of his organization spent most of their prison time; a concrete enclosure, possibly six by six, overlooking a courtyard, containing a bunk and a red bucket for waste material.
It seems that the ex-convict’s return to work as a guide at the prison was very cathartic, purging and cleansing for him. He recalls that on his first day on the job, he didn’t know what to say, but as the people began asking questions, he finally found his voice, until now, his unsettling experience as a prisoner there, doesn’t bother him like it once did. After that we walked back to the dock and boarded the ferry Madiba 1, (Mandela’s Xhosa clan name) and returned to the mainland.
We got back around minutes to three, and little did we know then that the fun was just about to begin, (smile) because our next stop was supposed to be Table Mountain; that big, awe inspiring block of stone standing at the back of Cape Town, whose top seems absolutely flat when looked at from below. We got a taxi from the docks that drove us up the steep winding road to where the activities actually began.
That meant joining a long line to purchase tickets, then joining another long one to get into an elevator to get to the cable car station. Once there, you then had to wait for one of the two cars to come back down from the brow of the mountain, because there seems to be only room for one at a time at the top. From down there though, against the great expanse of stone, the cars looked like playthings moving up and down on bits of small string.
But they were actually big and solid, the bottom parts painted red, while the top was made of solid glass, holding at least twenty people, riding on solid cables of some strong substance. And as you went up or came down, the flooring slowly spun around, allowing a good overall look at the breathtaking landscape. And the top of Table Mountain is not flat at all! (smile) It’s hilly and rocky!
But they have trails around which you can walk and see Cape Town and its environs down at the bottom, or the conjunction of the Atlantic and Indian Oceans on the other side. And the ole fella, with an extraordinary burst of energy, climbed all over and around it. (smile) Any, which way you take it though, the sight is indeed breathtaking! And the South Africans not making joke with their tourism nuh, for as you walk around, there are several small glass enclosures at the top telling you about the history of the mountain and it’s colourful flora and fauna.
The sad part though is that we had to wait some forty minutes, join another long line, to catch the cable car back down. By then it was after six, possibly closer to seven. Our taxi dropped us back at the waterfront, where there’s this big mall. Obviously the duchess wanted to go and look around, but I stopped in at Musica, a music shop, where a wonderful lady called Mary began playing me some wonderful South African Music.
As I told her, I couldn’t come to South Africa and not get some South African music, especially after berating my young daughter for not bringing any for me on her trips to the Motherland. So there I was standing with earphones on my head, listening as the lady played. And each one she played, I told her to put that aside, and the pile slowly grew.
Some one hour later, I looked around and saw the duchess standing next to me. Obviously she wasn’t thrilled because she had been waiting for me down the mall. But she knows that the music always comes first! Eventually though I bought a whole pile of C.D’s, won’t say how much, or at what price, so some people won’t get on my case, (smile) but I’ve got plenty of good listening ahead of me.
Then we went down to the other end of the mall, ate some Thai food, then got the 9.15 shuttle back to the hotel and bed. Oh one other beautiful sight I forgot to mention: on looking out of my room, the harbour looks like a necklace of jewels with all the bright lights shining around it, and the marina right at the foot of the hotel.
Oh friends, that was indeed one of the best, the busiest and most interesting days of my life. And I know some of you who know me personally, and know that I’ve been frail and sickly the last three years, must be wondering how I did all of that without falling down. Well it’s best said first by the words of Bruh David in Psalm 55: ‘Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer (permit) the righteous to be shaken (moved).’
And secondly from the oh so appropriate words of the poem ‘Footprints’ by Margaret Fishback Powers: ‘He whispered. “My precious child, I LOVE you and will never leave you, never, ever, during your trials and testings When you saw only one set of footprints it was then that I carried you.’ And all I can say to that is a loud and proud ‘Amen!’
Yeh friends, for when I look back at that day, I’m sure that only one set of footprints was visible on the path that I trod, because the Lord physically carried me! Wow! He’s ever so good to those who LOVE and trust Him!
Now let’s go home acknowledging who and whose we are through our Tuesday mantra: ‘In God’s eyes, I’m not what I do. I’m not what I have. I’m not what people say about me. I am the beloved of God, that’s who I am. No one can take that from me. I don’t have to worry. I don’t have to hurry. I can trust my friend Jesus and share His LOVE with the world. Amen!’
And now, if we’re sincere, we’ll go out and do just that! Much LOVE!
…by sincerely trusting our heavenly Father…we can do so much more…more than we can ever ask or imagine…
SCRIP-BITS 