Zithulele

Right then. It seems we have finished messing around travelling for now and have come to Africa at last.

We drove here from East London yesterday after stocking up with supplies (every English newspaper, 50 litres of drinking water, two attractive folding chairs, sweets for Kimmy...). We had been told that there was no electricity or running water, and had not been for a week. Christmas was also waterless for the hospital, which must have been tough.

The N2 batters on east as before, getting a little more rough around the edges, but nonetheless generally good for 120kph cruising. The Satnav (Barbara) was doing her job well and told us when to turn off, but we had details from the hospital website anyway. The sign is for Coffee Bay and Mquanduli. Tarmac again, I smiled, as we were to go 50 further ks on this. Zoom. Guh-dunk!

There were big potholes on this stretch. BIG POTHOLES. All over the road on both sides. Thereafter it became me against the road and I had not a little fun trying to weave in and out of the holes, especially enjoying when I got a big one right between the wheels (which sounds dirty for some reason). Once, we passed a gang of little boys around a pile of straw and dry mud. They had their two fingers up in the traditional way so I locked the doors and windows and only slowed down as much as necessary, before speeding on, unharmed by these foul terrorists. Afterwards, Kim informed me that they were asking for 2 rand because they had filled in a pothole. Woops. Good job lads.

From the turn off we were back on more familiar, dirt-track territory and it was easy, but slow going – lots of fairly steep hillocks which would become a challenge in the rain, but the clouds held off. The wee Nissan Tiida handled it all admirably, save for the massive speed bumps, which were impossible to clear unscathed. Fingers crossed the undercarriage is unharmed. I look forward to picking up the Toyota Prado tomorrow.

They are, I am told, improving the road to tarmac standard (at a cost of 2 million rand (£140k per km) by 2010. The contractors are made to dispose of the rubble constructively, meaning that flat playing fields are created. Seems like a good arrangement as we passed a game of footy on an old pitch, which was seriously tilted to one side. Where they propose to flatten the hospital vegetable garden, they will relocate it elsewhere. It is not quite great crested newts (high five to DfT), but the same theory.

The scenery along the way was beautiful: green, rolling hills dotted with many pastel coloured buildings in groups of three or five, often rondavels (round, thatched). Lots of people were walking all over the roads and a good few gave a smile and a wave. The people around here are black, believe it or not, with very, very few exceptions. This is not the South Africa which we have been travelling in to date. Goats and cattle also meander about and move at the last moment, sluggishly. No horn is required from either party.

The hospital is a fairly good looking building in a razor-wired complex with guards. 20 metres down the road and opposite is another such complex with newer brick flats and garages. This is the hospital worker accommodation, where most of the staff live. Our building was built in June so we were pretty optimistic that it would be clean and good.

It was. Our place is fantastic. A very large two bedroom apartment with open plan kitchen living room, tonnes of light and built in storage. We filled it to the brim quickly with the two fold out chairs and it really began to feel like our very own squat. We just have to wait until the water stops looking like chocolate milk to give it a proper clean. Still some residual problems with the water, though the pump seems to work again.

Greeting us when we pulled in to the complex was a young woman with a distinctly pointy-out belly. She had a pretty little benappied girl (Em) by a hand and waved us in. Sally is one third (soon to be relegated to a quater) of the Le Rouxs and took us round to see the place and meet Karl. Riana pitched in and helped us to carry our bags and bags of stuff round, after ascertaining that we did drink alcohol. She seems nice. Liz appeared. Liz is a bit younger and a doctor at the hospital doing ‘community service’. I did not ask what she was done for, but she didn’t look like a robber at all. And all of these people were surrounded by dogs and cat. A community, and the braai went on shortly afterwards.

Everyone seems to be deceptively nice and friendly (Karl gave me beer and kebabs), but I am on my guard at all times like any good martial artist. I have asked Kim to attack me at random times, like Kato from the Pink Panther. It will keep me sharp and her combat skills are also sure to improve.

On Monday I pick up the real car and hopefully some more furniture and whatnot. Not only does Kim have to start a new and challenging job, but she will have to trust my choice of decor. I may be on the next flight home.