The Year of Living Dangerously

I called 2014 my year of living dangerously. I had a theme song – Scissor Sisters’ Year Of Living Dangerously. Those of you who know me will tell you how afraid I am of flying. Do not be fooled by the number of (useless) frequent flier miles that I have clocked in in the past few years.

***side note*** I am writing this piece while on the plane. We just hit turbulence and I just pumped the volume up on my music player. This is the only that I can survive turbulence. At least I do not close my eyes at take off.

I called 2014 my year of living dangerously because of this one event that made me realise that I shouldn’t allow fear to stand on the way of my plans. It was early in February 2014 when I decided that I would fly to Zanzibar for Sauti Za Busara festival. This African music festival is held on the island over the second weekend of February and attracts patrons from all parts of the world. We have the legendary Bi Kidude to thank for this.

Because it was last minute, I was not able to find a lot affordable air tickets. The only affordable airline that I could take was RwandAir. I would leave Johannesburg at 8:30 and go via Kigali with a 45 minutes stopover and land in Dar Es Salaam at 15:55. Our plane leaving Johannesburg was somewhat delayed and I had to run to the KGL and DAR flight. We shall not talk about how short my African print shorts were. I was serving AfroQueer realness. 

RwandAir flew the Bombadier CRJ700 between KGL and DAR, the second smallest aircraft I had ever flown . The CRJ700 sits around 70 people. I had flown the 50-seat CRJ200 between Nairobi and Kampala in 2012 and I thought my life would end right on Lake Victoria. There was bad weather and severe turbulence. I have no idea why I thought it would be a good idea to fly a CRJ again. But I had very little choice though – it was the cheapest way for me to get to Dar.The flight was pleasant. Perhaps it was the cabin crew that made it pleasant by feeding me enough gin and tonic.

Upon landing in Dar es Salaam I would then connect to Stonetown, Zanzibar. I had to get to Stonetown that evening to be able to catch the Thursday evening festivities.  I had two options: 1) take the ferry from Dar to Zanzibar or 2) fly a light aircraft to ZNZ. The last ferry to Zanzibar leaves Dar just after 16:00. The last time I was in Dar in 2012 I was stuck in traffic from Julius Nyerere to the City Centre for almost 90 minutes. It was well after peak hour traffic, I was told. I was also stuck at customs for 45 minutes because they had somehow managed to misplace my passport. That was over two hours to get to the city from the moment I landed. If I attempted to get to the city for the 16:00 ferry would certainly not make it. There was only one other option… fly the light aircraft.

So I had no choice but to fly ZanAir on their trurboprop. You must understand this is not the CRJ200, this was a Cessna 208B that sat about 10 people. There were no allocated seats and I was a gentleman and allowed everyone to take their seats because I wanted an isle seat. The back of the aircraft was now full and I had no choice but to take the front seat, cockpit seat J See, I do not seat on window seats because I don’t want to see how far from the ground we are. I use my height as an excuse to get the isle seat. Now I had to face my fears and take the front seat and see everything that the pilot was doing. This seemed very dangerous for me. I must say, when I look back to that terrifying 20 minutes I realise that it wasn’t all that bad. Seeing my favourite island, Zanzibar from the top was amazing. The landing at sunset was spectacular.

This is ZanAir's Cessna. Source: ZanAir

The 2014 trips that followed this one proved to live up to the theme of living dangerously:

·         I took a Matatu from Mombasa to Watamu, via Gede, without any map.

·         I missed a bomb at a Matatu rank in Mombasa the day I returned from Watamu heading to Nairobi.

·         I avoided conflict in Hebron, Israel, when Israeli boys were abducted by Palestine.

·         I jumped out of a moving taxi (well sort of)  in Istanbul. 

Tel Aviv Pride

It has been almost a year since Tel Aviv Pride. I would write up a whole post about it but I thought that pictures would tell the story better than words would. 

A party wouldn't be complete without a polar bear in sight. Of course I was stoked!

The Pride precinct was filled with happy party-goers. There was a brief performance by Willam Belli of RuPaul Drag Race fame. She sang Boy is a Bottom and of course the crowd went wild!

One of my best pictures. These were German guys (I think?) that had traveled to Tel Aviv Pride. I met a bunch of people that had traveled from afar to attend the event. I had traveled all the way from South Africa... many many hours away from Tel Aviv.

The night before the main Pride event I went to Evita on Yavne Street where I paid through my ears for drinks. It was a nice place with a typical gay crowd. While there we were invited to a party at comfort13 on the outskirts of the city. BOY were we blown away!!! The crowd screamed "welcome to Palestine" and we all stood there and wondered if it were a good idea to go in. The club played Arabic pop music and I found myself dancing all night till 6 am. Pictured above is Arisa, a renowned drag queen in Israel.

Serving... FACE!!

Of course I found myself a husbear!

Seen in the crowd. One of my favourite images. 

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Tel Aviv has been voted the best gay destination for a 2011 and 2012. Israel has been in the forefront of gay rights for years now. Gays serve openly in Israel's military and parliament and many popular artists and entertainers are gay. The gay pride is attended by a majority of the people of Israel. There has been claims that the Israel Government has been 'pink washing' - using LGBT rights as a form of propaganda.

Fire in the Bush

“If you want something new, you have to stop doing something old”  Peter F. Drucker.

All the events leading to the 2015 Bushfire Festival indicated that I would be better off if I stayed at home. This was to be my second Bushfire Festival, an annual arts and music festival held in Swaziland that draws crowds and artists from all over the world. Last year after Sauti Za Busara, another African music festival held in Zanzibar, I promised myself to go to at least one African music festival a year. With the year slowly coming to an end I knew that if I did not go to Bushfire this year I would have to break my promise. 

A picture of the crowd at Bushfire. The crowd is always up for major fun.

Last year I drove with a bunch of friends and we stayed at the beautiful Lugogo Sun in Ezulwini, Swaziland. Beautifully air-conditioned rooms with white linen sheet. Breakfast was always an event. We would wake up at 9 am and go for a long buffet breakfast with mimosas on tap. It was a typical weekend away with friends, I wouldn't have it any other way. This was the life I was accustomed to.

Unfortunately life has its curve balls, everyone that I was meant to go to Bushfire with was unable to attend - I find this out twelve days before departure. I thought of staying at home and having a champagne party for one while watching some or other show. I called my friend, Mohau, who reminded me that I am a solo traveler and can take the trip on my own. I immediately went online and looked for accomodation at Lugogo and Royal Swazi Hotels. Everything was fully booked. I tried all my tricks - Hotels.com, Agoda, Kayak, roomkey, etc - nothing worked. I made so many phone calls until I realised that I should give up and try the alternative - camping. 

And no, by camping I don't mean singing along to all of Judy Garland's songs while mincing up and down. I mean camping in the woods. And by woods I don't mean... I had to prepare myself for my first ever camping kit. I had imagined that if I am ever going to camp I will certainly glamp (glamorous camping). Unfortunately that was not happening this time around. 

My journey into 'emancipation' started at 8 am at OR Tambo where I would catch the bus to Swaziland. My patience has never been so tested like that day. We got to Swaziland at 19:00 after hours of drinking to numb the pain from waiting. The first tasks was to pitch a tent. I had never pitched a tent before (well unless we are talking about THAT tent) and I was quite nervous that the damn thing would be blown away in the middle of the night. The tour leader gave us a quick tutorial and he helped me pitch mine. It was relatively easy so I offered to help my fellow campers who, I might add, had never pitched tents before. 

I had gone to Cape Union Mart before leaving SA to get camping gear. The shop assistant was very helpful and probably earned an easy commission from me. I bought pretty much everything the he recommended. I was worried that I had spent a lot more money on this camp that I should have. My first night camping was really great. This was because I had bought the right equipment and this kept me warm. 

The trouble, however, came in the morning - the showers. That was where I drew the line. I took a combi from Mahlanya to Ezulwini for my spa appointment where I hap a 3 hour session planned out strategically so that I can take a shower and have a warm brunch. This was the best thing I had ever done for myself. I had a good 4.5 hours to myself with no cellphone reception. I felt so relaxed. Do not ask me where I showered on Saturday morning. 

This camp was a great reminder to try something new regularly. It came at a very right time - a month before my first trip to India. Getting out of my comfort zone is what makes one a traveler, not a tourist.

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Per Swazi law intentional sexual relations per anum between two human males was unlawful. I am not aware of any men that have been jailed recently over homosexuality. It was very interesting to see the LGBT out and about in the festival having fun. I met a few locals that assured me that they are safe in the country. The Swazi people are still very conservative so public display of affection among the LGBT may be frowned upon.