We made quite an impact in the station. People were not used to seeing a group like us. Bull was bigger than everyone else in the country and we walked, according to one man in the station, like we had "S's" on our chests. People did treat us like superheros to an extent. But it was based on our willingness to go anywhere and not be intimidated. That is contrary to the South African way.

 

At some point along the way, Tut became fascinated with the universal state of filthiness that existed in all the bathrooms. He's a clean fellow, and he just couldn't abide by it. A couple of times each day he would make the rest of us look at one. "A sad state of affairs," he'd say.

 

 

 

 

Five-O was certain we would see some wild baboons and he gave us elaborate instructions for retrieving objects from them, should they steal any. I felt that if one were careless enough to let a baboon pick-pocket you, they should get to keep whatever it was they took. Tut let everyone know that if a baboon tried to take any of his stuff then he would have to shake its ass up.

 

On the way Five-O told us a bit more about people's attitudes towards the townships. It seems that most people were under the impression that the people there did not want to live anywhere else, that permanent housing would only be burned down because shanties were the way they had always lived.

 

Five-O wears a copper bracelet on his right wrist. I asked him about it. He told me it was good for the health and that it had taken away the pain he had in his knee for many years. I asked him how he hurt his knee. He said, "I hurt my knee in one of those things that can only happen in Africa with a cow."

 

I was glad I had cleared that up.

 

About now was when my stomach told me, in no uncertain terms, not to put african cheese on my eggs anymore. I was able to learn a great deal about Capetown port-a-pottys for a good part of the day. I kept Tut fully informed of their condition.

 

The scenery had suddenly become beautiful and, despite the fog, we all took many pictures. I have never been in a city with mountains everywhere, nor with such a magnificent coast line. This is what it looked like:

 

We moved on to a surfing town that Sputnik had grown up in. It was pretty there, but far away from the townships and the places the Guardian Angels needed to be. But it was important for us to see all sides of the city, and meet people in each place, in order for us to get a handle on the attiudes and environments. Without that knowledge, the group would not be succesful.

 

There was a beautiful rainbow on the ocean, and while I was watching it I spoke to a man named Patrick. Patrick worked on the beach. He was a shark spotter. He had a radio and a trigger for an alarm. He also wore special glasses that allowed him to see shadows in the water more clearly. He had to keep a constant look-out, as the waters are notrious for great-white attacks. One mile down the road is where the 80 year old woman was killed by a shark. That made news all over the world. Patrick also tells me that a young boy lost his leg here two weeks ago.

 

He tells me that the surfers will usually only stay out of the water for 10 minutes or so after the alarm is given. They tell him more people die from coconuts then from sharks.

 

I didn't ask him if they meant from from eating or from them falling on people.

 

Patrick told me his real name was Rasta and his other job was getting pot for all the surfers. The two duties he had don't seem to mesh well on paper, if you ask me.

 

We were prepared for the sight of the shantys, but not for the breadth of the place. The shacks stetched as far as you could see and the ground here was sand instead of the turf and dirt we'd seen the night before.

Five-O stopped the van so we could take a few pictures, but we all poured out and went right in before anyone could try to dissuade us.

 

We saw packs of dogs ranging about, and evidence of individual shacks that were burned to the ground. It was hard to see how any order could be maintained in such a place. Five-O relayed a story of a fellow officer named Spider. It seemed Spider and his partner were on patrol when they encountered a fight of some sort. They managed to break it up and began talking to the peole involved. Spider turned his back to his partner for a moment and suddenly heard him scream "Spider!". Spider whipped around with his gun drawn and shot a man holding a panga (machete) above his partner's head. He killed the man instantly a split-second before he cleaved in the head of his partner. Spider was renowned for his speed with a gun, and in this instance it both saved and took a life. Five-O told us that the incident had hit Spider hard. We met him later in the week and I remembered the story as I shook his hand.