Hard to be sneaky in Zululand

A couple weeks ago we were blessed with a long weekend. Looking around the homestead that weekend I recognized that it would be a great time to do some exploring. I looked for the highest hill in view and set off for an overnight adventure. Now from the pictures I have posted, one could easily come to the conclusion that this is a very rural area and that would be correct. That being said, you would be hard pressed to walk in any direction and not run into a village after awhile. After skirting around several such villages I made my way up to the top of the hill I was shooting for, only to realize that it was directly above another hidden village, Mlahane. Confident in my ability to blend in to the surroundings, I pitched my tent in a wooded area overlooking Mlahane and Magaga just beyond that. I had hardly finished pitching my tent when I realized I was discovered. Allow me to paint the scene from the perspective of the youngsters that happened upon my camp. You are bringing the cows in, as you do every night before sun down. You are hurrying because the sun is setting earlier and it is getting colder and colder at night. As you are walking down the hill to return home something catches your eye. Something is contrasting with the prevailing greens and grays of the hillside. You don’t believe your eyes, is that a white person?? In the woods behind my village?? Time to investigate. The last time white people set up camp in this area was 1879 and it did not end well, so you go get your older sister first. When you return you see an unshaven American man who speaks your language enough to tell you that he walked all day to get there and planned on sleeping in some kind of plastic house he brought with him. Not only does he not seem worried about snakes or the cold, there is a sense that he is thrilled to be sleeping outside…What do you do? Luckily your older sister has the phone number of the American woman who teaches at her high school. The phone call Katie soon received started something like this: “Khetiwe, I am very worried. There is an American man who is sleeping in the woods. It is very cold. I am afraid that he needs help. I want to bring him food and offer him a place to stay. What should I do?” Lucky for me Katie had heard I was off exploring and assured the girl that everything was fine, that walking up mountains and sleeping in the woods is just a cultural thing.
I pieced all of this together after the fact. From my perspective, some kids came to say hi, I told them I was going to sleep here and that I only live a couple miles away. Twenty minutes later I get a phone call from Katie, “Are you sleeping in the woods? Okay, just making sure.” Love Zululand