VIEWS FROM THE ROOF OF AFRICA

The area we were staying in in South Africa reminded us of where we come from in New Zealand; lush, green hills as far as the eye can see used by dairy and sheep farmers. The difference here is that sheep farmers face real threats, both human and animal. Caracals, jackals, hyenas and maybe even leopards are still in the area. Lambs and sheep make an easy target for these creatures. Sheep are also conveniently sized for human poachers, you can strap a sheep onto your back but it’s hard to do that with a dairy cow. It was Christmas Eve as we set out for Lesotho, and signs written in Zulu hung from some of the farm gates expressing the availability or not of Christmas lambs.

The order of the day was to take a trip into Lesotho, a small country completely surrounded by South Africa. Lesotho is made up almost entirely of Basotho people, 99.7% of people identify as being Basotho, making Lesotho one of the more homogeneous countries in the world. As well as being breathtakingly beautiful (admittedly an impression made from only three hours in the country), it is extremely poor with many of the population surviving on less than a buck 50 a day. HIV is endemic, with the prevalence at around 23%, one of the highest in the world. Many of Lesotho’s most notable facts relate to its geography. It is a geographical curiosity, given that it is entirely landlocked by South Africa and as such is the southernmost landlocked country. For the record, it is the only independent state in the world that lies entirely above 1,400 metres (4,593 ft) in elevation. Its lowest point of 1,400 metres (4,593 ft) is the highest lowest point for any country (if that makes sense). Over 80% of the country lies above 1,800 metres. It may surprise you that South Africa didn’t swallow up Lesotho but it wasn't (some would say it was saved) because they were a crown colony of Britain, rather than being administered by either the Cape colonial government or by one of the Boer Republics. It remained a colony until its independence from Britain in 1966. Of course, its economy remains closely linked to South Africa’s, with water sold to that country and the remittance of workers (both legal and illegal) from South Africa, are both major contributors to Lesotho’s economy. However, the agricultural sector is still the biggest player in Lesotho.

To get there, our first port of call was to go to the Sani Pass Hotel, where we would meet up with Ruan, our guide and driver for the day. You can’t drive yourself, at least not in a sedan. The way to Lesotho from this part of Kwazulu-Natal is via the Sani Pass, a treacherous 9km stretch of road that winds through the Drakensberg mountains, in a no-mans land between the South African and the Lesotho immigration that sane people say requires a 4-wheel drive vehicle and a lot of nous to navigate it (Luckily, Ruan was behind the wheel of a pretty robust looking Land Rover). The Sani Pass is the highest road in Africa and is reputably the third highest anywhere in the world, rising to 3,000 metres above sea level.

Many rivers to cross.

We set off along the bumpy track that was only going to get bumpier. Fortunately, in Ruan, we had an experienced driver who probably drove the Sani pass in excess of 100 times a year. He could navigate past potholes that looked like meteor strikes and ruts that looked like the handiwork of giant earthworms. At the South African border, we handed our passports over to Ruan. He took care of the formalities, leaving us to mingle with some migrant workers going home for the holiday season. If we thought our conditions were cramped, these guys were much worse off. 15 or so people in a van filled to the brim with gifts and luggage can’t have lead to a pleasant journey up the pass.

Waiting at the SA immigration office.

After the immigration office, the road got progressively worse, the incline steeper. The Sani Pass was created following the trail made by pack animals carrying goods into Lesotho from South Africa that in turn were made by following the migratory paths of animals etched out over centuries. It was finally extended into its only just vehicle friendly nature in the 1940s. We forded small streams, gazed up at waterfalls and took in the scenery of the Drakensbergs, one of South Africa’s prime nature spots and a UNESCO World Heritage site. We could make out our destination, the top of the Sani Pass, someway off in the distance. Here and there, birds would flit past, rollers and sunbirds, birds of extravagant colours and ridiculous tails. We were on the look out for bearded vultures, a rare bird in this region now. We stopped at one lookout, where we found a hyena track and saw some shy baboons, far removed from the inquisitive and aggressive beasts we had seen on the Cape peninsula. Leopards had been spotted recently but there was to be no such feline sighting for us. Proteas, the strangely beautiful flower that serves as a symbol for South African sports teams post apartheid, grew here. We were buffeted with fierce winds, an indication that we were getting some elevation and that we were trapped in a wind tunnel of a valley where the weather could be capricious. Ruan took us around every rut, through well-worn paths that I’m sure tested him and would have exposed the inexperienced driver. Towards the top, we climbed via a succession of kickbacks, going past one of the overloaded vans we had seen earlier (gear on the side off the road, people presumably taken in other vehicles in an attempt to get home before Christmas). At another point, we passed the remnants of a long broken down SUV, and passed another that had seemed to have overheated on the way up. Despite the sharp corners, Ruan managed to take them all in one go, which given their sharpness, it wouldn’t have been a loss of face if he had had to resort to a couple of attempts to get around some of them. It was both a relief and a disappointment to reach the top, although I didn’t fear for my life as my companions did. I’m not sure if that is a sign of strength or stupidity.

She's steep alright.

At the top of Sani Pass was the Lesotho immigration office, which consisted of a solitary, small building with Immigration, Welcome to Lesotho daubed on its white wall in black paint. It didn’t need to be high-tech. Lesotho doesn't attract huge numbers of tourists and the Sani pass is a hell of a way to get into a country. After a quick pit stop, toilet break and obligate photo under the Sani pass sign, we continued our journey on into Lesotho, known affectionately as the roof of Africa. We went past a small village, past a school building donated by Canada. The biggest building was the large, communal shearing shed. Agriculture is definitely the king here, and sheep farming is the trump card. In fact, 75% of the population of Lesotho is still rural. We passed shepherds who watched over their flocks, the sheep grazing without boundaries. Ruan said that the shepherds just had to obtain the consent of local chiefs to graze and that the annual movements were often repetitive, flocks following the same route year after year. The shepherds were young men, some orphans, willing to work for little, often to help buy off family debt. They were dressed in gumboots and all of them carried the traditional Lesotho blanket for warmth. 

Shepherds, sheep and a dog.

Shepherd with a sick sheep.

Some of them had fierce looking dogs with them, who looked like long haired golden labs on steroids, bred both to herd sheep as well as protect the flock from predators and poachers. We drove past one shepherd who was walking down the road carrying a sick sheep to who knows where. We drove for about 10 kilometres, until we found a spot to enjoy our packed lunch. From here, we could see for miles around, including the peak of the tallest mountain in Southern Africa, Thabana Ntlenyana, at 3,482 metres. I went for a walk but soon turned back, the strong head wind made progress difficult and cut through my flimsy coat.  Some of the shepherds noticed us and we watched them approach us from a distance, their long, languid strides eating up the difficult terrain, their blankets flowing from their shoulders in the strong wind. When they reached us, they initiated in conversation using those universal travelers questions, where are we from, how long would will be in the country, how old were we. We chatted for a few minutes, they showed us their cell phones (it always surprises me the spread of modern technology) and we gave them some rand and some food as a gesture of Christmas goodwill. I’m always a bit wary of giving money to individuals, preferring to give it to charities, but these guys live a lonely life in a pretty hostile environment and deserved a helping hand.  

Our three wise men on Christmas Eve.

After this, we got back into the truck and headed back towards the pass. Just before we arrived there, we stopped at a small village comprised of about 5 houses, all in the round Rondavel style, made from mud, stones and dried dung. The round lines help protect it against the strong winds that have seen many Western style houses crumple. Some older looking shepherds were hanging around, looking cozy in their traditional blankets. School aged children were reading or studying, the older ones helping the younger ones, with their reading. Pre school children were playing with what pass for toys here, rocks and an old 1.5 litre Coke bottle. The contrast between these children and the children of the family we were staying with in South Africa was immense. Our hosts children, while not spoilt, had toys to play with, books to read, DVDs to watch. In Lesotho, the children played with trash because they didn’t have toys to play with. We wondered why toys and books hadn’t been brought up from South Africa but in the end, South Africa has its own social problems to deal with and many of the children there would be no better off than the children we saw in Lesotho.

Kids reading.

We went into the front rondavel where we met a young lady who gave us some bread (very delicious) cooked over a dung fire and some alcohol (not so delicious, it reminded me of bad rice wine). We chatted with her, with Ruan acting as interpretator. We admired her radio, powered by solar panels. We traded some South African rand for Lesotho loti, bought some bread from her and purchased some cheap handicrafts. Ruan told us later that of the several companies who stop by the village, his is the only one that gives money to the villagers. All of the other companies exploit the villagers, adding to the authenticity of the tourist’s trip but give nothing back in return. The villagers (the ‘host’ for the day rotates among the woman who live here) just hope that the tourists will buy something. Sometimes they don’t, which means that they lose money from the bread they have baked. I found it shocking that tour companies didn’t pay any money to these people whose life was intruded upon so tourists could feel validated. We paid a not insubstantial sum of money to visit Lesotho and it made me sick that other companies didn’t feel the need to pass some of that money on to people who really need it.

Dung fired bread.

Last stop in Lesotho was the Sani Pass Chalet. The Sani Pass Chalet is said to be the highest pub in Africa, 3,000 metres up.  The views make that claim easy to believe, as you look back down into South Africa back down the pass, over the Drakensbergs and further out to what I imagined could well have been the Indian Ocean coast. It’s certainly the highest altitude where I’ve enjoyed a beverage, a Maluti beer, one of Lesotho’s finest.

Enjoying a bevvie at Africa's highest pub.

On the way back down the pass, Ruan mentioned how there are now plans afoot to tar the road. The reasons given are mainly for the benefit of trade and commerce between the two countries, although given the steepness and windiness of the road, big trucks would find it impossible to make it up. I’m sure that the Taxi van drivers would sure appreciate a tar road. Opponents of the tar scheme feel that it will degrade the road and the environment and make the icy winter conditions even more treacherous than they are now.  However, as a tourist, I appreciated the remote of the place and the difficulty of the drive. However, tarring would take away something of the wonder and sense of accomplishment (however shallow that sentiment is seeing as you were just a passenger in a vehicle) from reaching the top. Given that the project was supposed to start in 2006 and hasn’t yet, there might be a reprieve to tourists who want to brave this pass. The drive and Lesotho are worth it.