David Conrad's History of South Africa
September 28, 2011 | Tags: David ConradIf you are anything like me, exploring a country means not only appreciating its aesthetics, but also getting to the core of how its people and culture have shaped its history. And, the amazing part of Zegrahm’s upcoming expedition to South Africa is that we’ll see its rich history come to life. Our journey is punctuated by encounters with the local people—enjoying their food, language, and customs—and visits to some of the country’s most historically significant places.
Acknowledged as a cradle of the human species, South Africa is also regarded as the source of human creative art. This fascinating fact is based on several findings that attest to the time-depth of South Africa’s cultural history. Imagine the discovery of 75,000 year-old snail shells drilled with holes, indicating they were meant to be strung as a necklace; paintings on flat stones by San people that, in some cases, may be 26,000 years old; and cave paintings dating to around 10,000 bce. The San, who were mainly hunter-gatherers, and the culturally similar Khoikhoi, who were mostly pastoralists, were the only indigenous inhabitants of South Africa’s western Cape. The eastern Cape, south of the Limpopo River, was home to Bantu-speaking black African cultures including, among several others, Zulu in the north and Xhosa in the south. During our voyage we’ll have the opportunity to enjoy a traditional Xhosa lunch, after visiting New Brighton Township.
In the mid-seventeenth century, South Africa’s human history changed drastically as the Cape became a station for re-supplying Dutch ships bound for the East Indies. A colony of Dutch farmers (eventually known as “Boers”) was established, and they were joined by smaller populations of English, Scandinavian, and French settlers. To produce commodities cheaply enough to make a profit, they all acquired slave labor from West Africa, the East Indies, and local Khoisan groups. Essence of the French and Dutch will be especially prevalent during our time in Franschhoek and Stellenbosch with distinct architectural styles and tastings at wineries, where the settlers originally brought French grapes over to create their vineyards.
The language of Dutch seamen and elements of other European settlers’ vocabulary mixed with local African languages and those of imported slaves, gradually developed into the Afrikaans language of today. The scarcity of white women within the European community led to the mating of white settlers with nonwhite slaves and indigenous folk, producing a mixed class of “Cape Colored” people who became a major population group also known as “Griqua.”
By 1805 the Cape was under British control, and the rest of the nineteenth century saw conflicts of varying intensity between antagonists competing for land, cattle, and political power. Boer slave owners fought against British abolitionism, and both Boer and Griqua skirmished with Xhosa and other Bantu farming and cattle-herding populations. Several great African leaders emerged using armies to establish their own states. Three of the most talented and successful of these were Shaka, the famous Zulu leader, Moshoeshoe, who founded what eventually became Lesotho, and Mzilikazi, who became king of a Zulu group called Ndebele. Conflict between British and Boer settlers led to the latter’s “Great Trek” northward across the Orange and Vaal rivers, and establishment of two independent Afrikaner republics, the Orange Free State and Transvaal. Nearby, in a disputed region called Griqualand West, diamonds were discovered, and in 1871 the British joined the northward movement by annexing that territory. The 19th-century influence of the British is quite obvious as we explore the Victoria and Albert Waterfront during our overnight in Cape Town.
Success in the diamond fields led to vast wealth for Cecil Rhodes who became Prime Minister of the Cape in 1890 and influenced events that led to the Anglo-Boer War (1899-1902). Despite the Boers’ military defeat, Afrikaner nationalism gained strength until the Nationalist Party was voted into office by a white electorate in 1948 and apartheid became official government policy. Opposition by the African National Congress (ANC) evolved into increasingly militant resistance with the appearance of a new generation of black leaders led by Oliver Tambo, Walter Sisulu, and Nelson Mandela, many of whom were imprisoned in the mid-1960s. Decades of vicious white nationalist oppression ended when Mandela gained his freedom and in 1994 became president of an ANC-led Government of National Unity. A particularly interesting excursion is a visit to Robben Island, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and the prison where Mandela was incarcerated for 18 of his 26 imprisoned years.
Interested in the nature of South Africa? Read Jonathan Rossouw's description, here.
To learn more about our incredible South Africa & Namibia by Sea expedition, visit our trip page.
On Location: The Danube River
September 26, 2011With a fiery orange sun rising above the sea to our stern, we maneuvered into one of the main channels at the mouth of the 1,750-mile long Danube River. The delta of this river covers an amazing 5,000 square kilometers and, as we looked out over the ship’s railing, we came to realize that we were completely surrounded by extensive reed beds stretching out to the horizon. Huge flocks of white pelicans fished in the marsh, while the appropriately named pygmy cormorant perched conspicuously on snags along the river’s edge.
We traversed nearly 40 miles of the delta on our way to the town of Tulcea, waving along the way to locals fishing along the shoreline, and admiring the spectacular Romanian countryside as we steamed past. Upon arrival, we boarded small local boats to investigate the lakes and channels more closely. Swans and their nearly full-grown cygnets stretched their long necks under the water to forage on aquatic plants, while countless frogs basked in the sun on floating aquatic vegetation. Just as we were about to arrive back at the small dock, four species of heron were spotted up in a single tree, the perfect finale to our exploration of Europe’s best-preserved river delta.
Not just a culturally exciting expedition, check out our incredible staff all dressed up!
On Location: The Danube River
September 26, 2011 | Tags: Danube RiverWith a fiery orange sun rising above the sea to our stern, we maneuvered into one of the main channels at the mouth of the 1,750-mile long Danube River. The delta of this river covers an amazing 5,000 square kilometers and, as we looked out over the ship’s railing, we came to realize that we were completely surrounded by extensive reed beds stretching out to the horizon. Huge flocks of white pelicans fished in the marsh, while the appropriately named pygmy cormorant perched conspicuously on snags along the river’s edge.
We traversed nearly 40 miles of the delta on our way to the town of Tulcea, waving along the way to locals fishing along the shoreline, and admiring the spectacular Romanian countryside as we steamed past. Upon arrival, we boarded small local boats to investigate the lakes and channels more closely. Swans and their nearly full-grown cygnets stretched their long necks under the water to forage on aquatic plants, while countless frogs basked in the sun on floating aquatic vegetation. Just as we were about to arrive back at the small dock, four species of heron were spotted up in a single tree, the perfect finale to our exploration of Europe’s best-preserved river delta.
Not just a culturally exciting expedition, check out our incredible staff all dressed up!
Ode to Iceland
September 22, 2011Update: Not only is Kevin a poet, he's an artist! Check out his watercolors below, inspired by this exceptional trip.
Our recently completed Circumnavigation of Iceland expedition left quite the impression on some, including Zegrahm director, Kevin Clement.
Ode to Iceland
(with apologies to Robert Service)
There are strange things done in the Midnight sun
And one of those was our trip
Through Iceland wild, but in highest style
On the Clipper Odyssey ship.
To Iceland we came on various planes,
In a stupor induced by jet lag,
And made prayers to Odin, with a certain forebodin’,
That we’d arrive with all of our bags.
We took a big lick of old Reykjavik
And found it much to our liking,
This far northern home of trolls and of gnomes,
And sometime or other, some Vikings.
It made our hearts sing to see the old Thing
We were growing amazed and amazed-er.
A huge waterfall, and that wasn’t all:
We saw geezers—sorry, that’s “gay-sir”.
We found Odyssey, and with due modesty,
We can say she’s the perfect small size.
She was awaiting, and without hesitating,
We set sail. Our direction: clockwise.
Flatey was flat; no doubt about that,
And the terns keep their little beaks honed
It made you wanna throw rocks at the whole goddamn flock,
If you did…you’d leave no tern un-stoned.
The puffin’s a creature whose colorful features
Made it one we all wanted to see.
It lives in a burrow, or crevice, or furrow…
Since when did birds not nest in trees?
At Latrabjarg, the cliffs loomed up large
And so did the waves crashing round them.
But we found a beach, within easy reach,
Went searching for puffins, and found them.
Isafjordur’s museums are great—you should see ‘em;
But what left an indelible mark
On our memory’s slate was the moment we ate
That hideous putrefied shark.
On the island of Vigur, the terns were most eager:
They came at you from farther and wider.
If someone yelled “Duck!” you might be out of luck…
Unless they were talking ‘bout eider.
Our next hike’s destination, the old radar station
At Adalvik, lay up a steep trail.
But I sure was beat after just 700 feet…
That is, on the Mike Messick scale.
Hornvik had horns, in dozens of forms,
And zillions of seabirds to boot.
We got to know pronto the fragrance of guano—
But still, those damn puffins are cute.
We sailed ever north, and in due course
Reached the half-Arctic island of Grimsey.
We couldn’t agree where the Circle should be;
Where they put up the sign was pure whimsy.
And in a short time, we sailed to the Line
Where the Arctic Sea truly does start
With water so frigid, the swimmers went rigid
Well, except for certain parts.
Siglufjordur has a show made to order
For those who like herring and history.
The museum’s displays explain the old ways,
But that movie shall remain a mystery.
At Lake Myvatn, you might wonder what in
The heck those weird formations are.
The short explanation is that, in this nation,
Trolls are as real as you are.
In Seydisfjordur, you might say the order
Of the day was waterfalls on high.
But a bigger surprise, quite hard on the eyes,
Was this strange bright ball in the sky.
On Vatnajokull we met with some locals
Who taught us to drive snowmobiles.
And then let us go to live or die in the snow…
Now we know how a young puffin feels.
It’s always a fine day out there on Heimaey,
A town that a volcano threatened.
The locals fought back and stopped the attack,
By keeping the lava flow wettened.
For those who are jaded; the luster has faded
From the old, the familiar, the cutesy--
We offer a view that is guaranteed new:
The brand spanking-new island of Surtsey.
And so back to the outset, and we just cannot let
Ourselves give in to temptation
To pause or retreat, or we mightn’t complete
Our Icelandic circumnavigation.
Through the Icelandic best, with hardly a rest
We’ve come with our trusty small ship.
Our story must end, but there’s a moral, my friends,
And it’s not to let protections slip.
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
And Iceland’s a wild destination.
I think you can see, when you get home you’ll need
A vacation from your vacation.
Ode to Iceland
September 22, 2011 | Tags: IcelandUpdate: Not only is Kevin a poet, he's an artist! Check out his watercolors below, inspired by this exceptional trip.
Our recently completed Circumnavigation of Iceland expedition left quite the impression on some, including Zegrahm director, Kevin Clement.
Ode to Iceland
(with apologies to Robert Service)
There are strange things done in the Midnight sun
And one of those was our trip
Through Iceland wild, but in highest style
On the Clipper Odyssey ship.
To Iceland we came on various planes,
In a stupor induced by jet lag,
And made prayers to Odin, with a certain forebodin’,
That we’d arrive with all of our bags.
We took a big lick of old Reykjavik
And found it much to our liking,
This far northern home of trolls and of gnomes,
And sometime or other, some Vikings.
It made our hearts sing to see the old Thing
We were growing amazed and amazed-er.
A huge waterfall, and that wasn’t all:
We saw geezers—sorry, that’s “gay-sir”.
We found Odyssey, and with due modesty,
We can say she’s the perfect small size.
She was awaiting, and without hesitating,
We set sail. Our direction: clockwise.
Flatey was flat; no doubt about that,
And the terns keep their little beaks honed
It made you wanna throw rocks at the whole goddamn flock,
If you did…you’d leave no tern un-stoned.
The puffin’s a creature whose colorful features
Made it one we all wanted to see.
It lives in a burrow, or crevice, or furrow…
Since when did birds not nest in trees?
At Latrabjarg, the cliffs loomed up large
And so did the waves crashing round them.
But we found a beach, within easy reach,
Went searching for puffins, and found them.
Isafjordur’s museums are great—you should see ‘em;
But what left an indelible mark
On our memory’s slate was the moment we ate
That hideous putrefied shark.
On the island of Vigur, the terns were most eager:
They came at you from farther and wider.
If someone yelled “Duck!” you might be out of luck…
Unless they were talking ‘bout eider.
Our next hike’s destination, the old radar station
At Adalvik, lay up a steep trail.
But I sure was beat after just 700 feet…
That is, on the Mike Messick scale.
Hornvik had horns, in dozens of forms,
And zillions of seabirds to boot.
We got to know pronto the fragrance of guano—
But still, those damn puffins are cute.
We sailed ever north, and in due course
Reached the half-Arctic island of Grimsey.
We couldn’t agree where the Circle should be;
Where they put up the sign was pure whimsy.
And in a short time, we sailed to the Line
Where the Arctic Sea truly does start
With water so frigid, the swimmers went rigid
Well, except for certain parts.
Siglufjordur has a show made to order
For those who like herring and history.
The museum’s displays explain the old ways,
But that movie shall remain a mystery.
At Lake Myvatn, you might wonder what in
The heck those weird formations are.
The short explanation is that, in this nation,
Trolls are as real as you are.
In Seydisfjordur, you might say the order
Of the day was waterfalls on high.
But a bigger surprise, quite hard on the eyes,
Was this strange bright ball in the sky.
On Vatnajokull we met with some locals
Who taught us to drive snowmobiles.
And then let us go to live or die in the snow…
Now we know how a young puffin feels.
It’s always a fine day out there on Heimaey,
A town that a volcano threatened.
The locals fought back and stopped the attack,
By keeping the lava flow wettened.
For those who are jaded; the luster has faded
From the old, the familiar, the cutesy--
We offer a view that is guaranteed new:
The brand spanking-new island of Surtsey.
And so back to the outset, and we just cannot let
Ourselves give in to temptation
To pause or retreat, or we mightn’t complete
Our Icelandic circumnavigation.
Through the Icelandic best, with hardly a rest
We’ve come with our trusty small ship.
Our story must end, but there’s a moral, my friends,
And it’s not to let protections slip.
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
And Iceland’s a wild destination.
I think you can see, when you get home you’ll need
A vacation from your vacation.