Most of the books and websites talk about taking a tour up Sani Pass, a treacherous road connecting South Africa and Lesotho through the Drakensburg mountains. But somewhere we read that it’s possible to walk up. So, on our second to last weekend in South Africa, we drove through the foothills to a comfy hostel 6,000 feet up the mountain, ready to conquer the pass the next morning.
We woke up, packed as little as possible for our stay on top, and set out for the South African border post. Sani Pass is 8 kilometers long. Elevation at the bottom is just over 6,000 feet. Elevation at the top is 9,300. That’s a long way up, especially for our sea-level lungs. It was a perfect day, sunny with a gentle, cool breeze and the valley spreading out below us. Looking up, though, was a different story, with the daunting hairpin turns winding their way above us into Lesotho. By the time we arrived at the top, we were blistered, hungry, and very happy to see the highest pub in Africa. The Lesotho border post was a riot. It seemed to be an optional stop, but we wanted those stamps on our passports, so we stepped over barbed wire and abandoned tires, walked past some lethargic guards, and handed over our passports.
Fully stamped, we found our hostel, which was an old barn in the middle of a tiny traditional village. A few hundred meters away, past traditional stone homes, sheep, and some curious children was the pub, where we found some warm food, cold beers, and views that made us feel as though we were on top of the world. We asked the bartender for advice about what to do while in Lesotho. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “You should go see this tower. It’s tall and pretty neat.” Then he waxed philosophical about the benefits of watching sheep.
Armed with that advice – watch towers and sheep – we went wandering on top of the escarpment and spent the afternoon watching sheep and towers. Good pastimes in Lesotho, it turns out.
We managed to drag ourselves out of bed at 4:30 the next morning to watch the sunrise. The sun illuminated the clouds blanketing the valley below and covered the mountains in gold. It didn’t take long for the sun to burn through the clouds, and our descent was as clear as our ascent, and a lot less work. Happy to find our car still waiting for us back at the South African border post, we headed back to the sea for our last week in Durban.
Three months ago, after leaving the wilds of Kruger National Park, we arrived in the sprawling city of Johannesburg at 9:30pm and immediately got lost. After numerous u-turns and running countless red lights (our guide book says don’t stop at red lights at night), we finally drove through the large gates of our hostel. We would later adjust to the sight of walls surrounding every house, including living behind walls ourselves, but after a month travelling through rural areas, the walls were jarring. We were told that Johannesburg was a walled city, but we didn’t know what that meant until we got lost in the maze of walls on that first night.
Johannesburg is large and its reputation larger. For the past few years, my law school has not sent students to Johannesburg due to high crime rates. Arriving late at night and without good directions, we weren’t yet in a place to dispel some of the misconceptions. Two weeks ago, the chance arose to go back and visit. We took it, and had a much different experience.
Johannesburg is the wealthiest city on the continent. The discovery of gold in 1886 turned the once rural area into a sprawling city in little time. Under apartheid, the largest townships in the country were situated on the outskirts of the city, most notably Soweto. Those same townships were at the core of the anti-apartheid movement, fostering its leaders and giving rise to some of the most brutal confrontations.
We came to Johannesburg to attend a hearing at the Constitutional Court, the highest court in the land. The function of the Court is similar to the U.S. Supreme Court, but the building could not be more different. The Court sits on Constitutional Hill, an expanse that formerly housed a notorious prison. The Court is decorated by art from around South Africa, and each justice sits behind a cowhide – an important symbol in many of South Africa’s different ethnic groups. The stretch of hides represents the united front of the Court in upholding the Constitution, while each hide’s singular markings represents each justice’s individual judicial approach. The case before the court was one my organization was arguing. We spent half a day with the lawyers from my office watching the hearings.
After the hearing, we stayed on for the weekend in Johannesburg. We took a bike tour of Soweto, visiting the home of Nelson Mandela and the sites of historic import, while also touring the streets of the still growing and increasingly economically diverse city within a city. Soweto is home to over 4 million residents. We watched a one-man show at the Market Theatre, known for its progressive productions. And on our last day, we visited the Apartheid Museum. We had been told that the museum takes time to work through, and when we left having only seen half the museum, we are readily dispensing the same advice. The museum is incredible. However, I do work with some who fought in the anti-apartheid movement and take issue with the museum’s singular focus on the success of the ANC (the now ruling party that was at the front of the anti-apartheid movement).
With half a museum still to visit, we are lucky to be returning to Johannesburg for two days before starting our journey home. We will take in one more show at the Market Theatre and return to the Apartheid Museum to pick up where we left off.
Inside the chambers at the Constitutional Court.
The court building.
The court's doors, famous for their depictions of constitutional rights.
Constitutional Court, in all of South Africa's eleven official languages.
Two of the old prison towers.
The court's lobby.
Natty and Eugene, ready to conquer Soweto on their beach cruisers.
The Orlando Pirates stadium, home to one of the two major Soweto soccer teams.
A bowl of traditional beer.
At the shebeen, a traditional township watering hole.
Beer in milk cartons.
Outside the shebeen.
Memorial to the students killed in the Soweto student uprisings of 1976.
My sandwich.
At the home of one of Soweto's leading musicians from the early days of the struggle.
