By public transport, there are two ways to reach the Independent Kingdom of Swaziland from Joburg. The luxury bus costs around 35 Euros and my old friend the Minibus 13. Both take around 4 hours for the 370Km journey, but the minibuses once again, are used almost exclusively by the black community.
It's a little cramped, but very hospitable and lots of fun. Swazi people ae gentle, friendly and immensely proud of their tiny country. I very soon found out why. Arriving at the border, things were efficient and impersonal on the South African side, but the Swazi immigration officer seemed positively pleased to see me. I was given a colour brochure, packed with maps, accommodation lists and photos of wildlife. From this, I was able chose the Sondzela backpacker lodge, situated inside the Mlilwane nature reserve.
A short hop later and I was decanted in the diminutive capital Mbabane. Almost immediately I was approached by a taxi driver. Scam alert flashed into action, but this guy offered me his cell phone to call the lodge I had chosen and then agreed to take me the 35Km for a paltry 15 Euros.
Swaziland is only a few KM wide and approximately 150KM long. It has 3 distinct climatic zones, the Highveld, similar to Joburg, Middleveld, where October temperatures can reach 32c and the lowlands, which are sub tropical. This landlocked country is mountainous, but in a gentle rather rgreen and rolling way. Milwane is in the Middleveld and is a refuge for Warthogs, Zebra, several different kinds of antelope, Wildebeest, Monkeys, Hippos and Crocodiles.
The backpackers lodge costs about 8 Euro per night, dinner is less than 4 Euros and beers,50 cents a pop from the bar. African nights can be cold at his time of year, so a huge fire is lit, chairs drawn up around and the dinner, announced by drum beats, is served outside in African style, straight from the pot onto a bed of mealie porridge. Immense portions, exotic vegetables, grills, stews, salads and always coleslaw.
As the fire heats up, beers appear and there is lots of chilled chat with perhaps some music. Southern Africans are all pyromaniacs. There is nothing they love better than a braai, (barbie), and a fire. Soon the blaze was reaching November 5th proportions, stoked by an gleeful ranger, armed with a pump action shotgun, (in case of marauding hippos), who gleefully added to the conflagration. Meanwhile, the Swazi wildlife was cranking up its African night sounds repetoire to max.
A South African couple, Sam and Rita passed me a beer, invited me to pull up a chair nearer the fire and we watched as the blaze died down to expose the core of the fire My new friends lost no time in putting empty Castle bottles into its heart. 10 minutes later, the semi melted glass was molded into ashtrays, candle holders and plain weird sculptures. Apparently a popular pass time whilst watching African TV, in other words, a flickering fire.
