Butter the Soul

Travelling Tim makes a profound discovery about differences. This might not be the classic surf trip story, but it offers a lot of soul.

Thomas in training.

A good friend once told me that the wide open spaces of Africa feed the soul. She and I would often stay up late, and talk about the importance of soul – of giving it and living by it. You could argue we enjoyed indulging our inner hippy. Sitting in a little farm house in Africa, sandwiched between two pretty point breaks, I appreciated what she told me. After all, it had brought me there.

Here’s a story for you: An Englishman, an Irishman, an Australian and a Xhosa man take off into rural Africa in search of something different. There will be waves. We know that. We checked before we left. Some of us can surf. Others are learning. Some can’t even swim.

There will be lonely dirt tracks, big skies and empty beaches. These are things necessary to muffle the drone of city life, to reconnect us with the country. We knew it. It is why we came. None of us are city folk. We were born in the rural areas of England, Ireland, Tasmania and Transkei.

We live in Cape Town for different reasons, but the challenge bears daily fruit in the contact we have with a rich diversity of people. This trip is our reward for enduring the city, in a way. It gives us a chance for cultural exchange. It gives us a chance to slowly strengthen friendships, and a chance to learn from one and another. This is a different food for the soul, but food nonetheless.

Two important needs

Emerging from Masiphumelele, a community near the surf town of Kommetjie south of Cape Town, we wind our way through the streets and away from a small shack. This is home to Thomas, my friend and partner in crime in the children’s charity we run. He last left Cape Town in 2008, when he went to a family funeral in George, crammed into a communal taxi for seven hours. Before that, he can’t remember. ‘We’, on the other hand, leave Cape Town every weekend for adventure in the sticks.

Spoilt with a car, we rarely extend the opportunity to those who don’t. We might give a hitch-hiker a lift down the road, but the weekend trips are selfishly ours.

From Masi, we have a five-hour drive east to the Southern Cape, where a lonely farmhouse waits. We climb out of False Bay, through the mountains and into the wide spaces of the southwestern Cape. On the road, we begin to chat more openly about our differences.

As we pass rural townships we discuss life in shacks, and social hierarchy. We pull over for coffee. Our waitress is what they call ‘coloured’ in South Africa. We talk about the racial history of South Africa and issues of sexism. We talk honestly and openly, as friends. With each burst of laughter, we start to understand one another. Some issues are harder than others. Some truths are embarrassing. Others are funny.

We talk about religion, sex, HIV and AIDS. We talk about immigration, ethnic and minority violence, our childhoods in developed and underdeveloped worlds. We talk about girls; about relationships good and bad. By the time we reach the little farm on a hill between the two points, we’re ready for a few days enjoying each other’s company, enjoying our similarities and laughing at our differences.

The chance to spend good time with people from different backgrounds is rare. Maybe it’s because we never make time, or never create the opportunities. But there’s much to be learnt. It’s the differences that make us appreciate each other, which in turn breaks down the simplest barriers.

As we arrive in the bush, we unpack and unwind. Thomas heads for the TV. He is immediately disappointed. No cable. But he does not have TV at home. He sighs but the warm bath makes up for it. He emerges an hour later, grinning. We go outside and wax up his new board, he smiles as he looks out into the bush.

Sharing a moment

‘No barb wire, no fences, I wonder if I can come here on honeymoon.'

That night we eat well – home made burgers and bread on the fire. We play cards. English games, Irish games, Xhosa games, all in good humour, all of us cheating when only we know the rules. We talk.

It’s dark and the stars are out, a gentle wind in the walled garden creates a soft rustle of leaves.

‘Ay, too quiet. House music.’

Soon there’s a beat and the house is rocking.

‘Much better.’ We all laugh, and a new conversation starts.

So it goes for the few days we spend on the farm. There is no peace, or quiet. A constant beat when Thomas is awake keeps us all dancing. At meals, Thomas leads us in a prayer. Before we sleep, Thomas reads a verse from his bible. At the beach we lounge, waiting for waves to show. Thomas passes out on the rocks, breathing in the sea air. We follow suit once we’ve smothered ourselves in sun block, much to his amusement. When it’s flat, we drive. We stop often, wasting money on petty purchases. Thomas keeps his cash for precious airtime to call his girlfriend. Again, we talk.

A close friend once told me a sad story, recounting the loss of a fellow soldier. As he went to say goodbye all he found was a body that bore no semblance to the person he knew. Limp and lifeless, their soul had gone, and he realised where we find ourselves.

It’s only when you spend time together that you realise that most of our differences are superficial, skin deep. We’re all just skin and bone, and skin and bone counts for so little. We are quick to judge, too selfish to see past the obvious and find the person inside. We see colour. We see creed. We see wealth. We see poverty. We see beauty. We see ugliness. We see so many things that matter so little, and yet this is enough to make grand judgements, often on those we don’t even know. There is nothing we cannot learn if we share, if we bare a little of ourselves to someone else.

We should appreciate each other FOR our differences. We should embrace our differences. It is there we find our soul.

A while ago, by chance, I bumped into a friend at a garage during a trip into the bush. It was a strange meeting, none the less so because he gave me a bible and asked me to read it. I came across a beautiful passage that included this line:

‘And what if you gain the whole world but loose your soul in doing so’. (Mark 8 v 36).

A little soul can take you way further than you think, but in a glance it’ll pass you by. So give a little soul. It won’t cost a bean.