Durban Deconstructed – Visit Inanda Valley

I visited the Inanda Valley for the first time last year and was blown away by its rich history. But Inanda Valley doesn’t just have history to offer. The people and their culture infused with the little explored scenery release an aroma of ‘I want more’. Since I had already seen much of the Inanda Heritage Route, I needed a way to tailor-make my tour. I wanted some insider info, so I headed over to the Durban Green Corridors office at Blue Lagoon and the first thing I did was…

 

Get a local guide.

 

As luck had it, Sanele, one of the cultural guides was available on the day I had in mind and together we decided on an itinerary. Like modular furniture, I was able to build onto basic tour packages making it unique and perfectly suited to my tastes. My tour smorgasbord included a chunk of nature, a sprinkle of culture, beer, meat and drizzled generously with conversation.

 

 

View the Mzinyathi Waterfall

 

No need to travel to the Midlands to see the Howick Falls. Right on our doorstep rests the majesty of the Mzinyathi Falls in the Inanda Valley. A single line of white water tumbles into the depths of the rocky calabash below, sprouting greenery wherever the life giving mists drift.

 

 

According to the rich knowledge that tumbles from Sanele’s lips, the pool at the tipping point of the falls was the original baptismal font of the Shembe religion. The pool has lost its popularity as the choice waters of cleansing in recent years. The reason, humanity has crept up and made homes too close to this natural bath.

 

 

The rift in the valley leads the waters on a gentle path toward the Inanda Dam. Hand-in-hand, the ancient trees and vertical drop in altitude creates a haven for abundant birdlife. A Twitcher’s (avid bird watcher) paradise, however, appealing to even the untrained eye.

 

Visit the Rastafarian Caves

 

A rocky path descends from the viewpoint at which I had observed the falls. Winding between natural obstacles, we plunged into the jungle below the solid plateau. You don’t really need rough terrain shoes to make it down to the caves. Sanele came in what looked like his Sunday best and we could still see his reflection in them at the end of the trail.

 

 

Two Rastafarian men greet us at the cave. It is a ritual of fist pumps and a rhyme about love for all. They are calm and gentle. I need not wonder why. Their sacred space is an overhang, beautified by tended gardens and marked by paintings on the cave wall. Some basic stone walls have been built for shelter. These are only utilised for special occasions.

 

 

The men are open to answering any and all of my questions. The significance in the colour difference between their head wraps or the significance of marijuana in their belief. The older of the pair starts to fix a pipe. I get a little bit nervous that he may expect me to partake, he doesn’t. I learn that children under 21 in their community may not smoke and it is not obligatory for the rest.

 

We discuss where the Bible suggests smoking marijuana. I think I may need to read it again, slowly, to understand this interpretation. They are excited about the change in laws surrounding marijuana in South Africa. However, they still await the day they can walk freely to a celebration, stash in hand and no concerns that they will be accosted for illegal possession.

 

Taste traditional Zulu beer

 

After hiking out of the gorge, there was a strong need to quench our thirst. A coke or fanta just wasn’t going to satisfy this desire for liquid refreshment. As I had done all along, I simply trusted the knowledge of my local guide in taking me to the best place to taste some local brew. And Sanele did not disappoint.

 

He gallantly directed my driving from left here to right there, slow down, sharp turn ahead, and stop. I looked around and all I saw were homes and children playing in the street. Surely not? Where was this wondrous place where I was about to experience my first taste of traditional Zulu beer? Well, basically it was up a driveway and into the backyard of Mrs Mlaba’s place.

 

 

I got the grand tour of the kitchen where the ingredients turn into Friday night’s drink of choice. It is made of a combination of oats, bread, sugar, pineapple and yeast. And the longer it stands, the more potent the kick. Mrs Mlaba is a very responsible brewer, no man may drink without having some food in his belly. They are served fatty meat on the bone whilst seated on upturned buckets and makeshift benches. Once they have eaten, out comes the jug of beer which is passed around and shared.

 

 

I joined the men, bought a jug, tasted the brew and shared it. Delicious. I even took a little takeaway to have with my dinner later.

 

Eat Shisa Nyama

 

I did it the wrong way, drink first, then eat. Mrs Mlaba would be saddened. At the counter of the local butchery, we chose our meat and ordered a loaf of bread to accompany it. Sanele convinced me that the local specialty is kidney cooked with onions on the fire. I agreed to give it a go. We pulled out plastic chairs and sat down under the protection of the wooden roof.

 

 

As the sun got lower, I got to watch people fetching water from the borehole a few meters away. Ladies and children carry large buckets of water down and up a hill. It is a heavy burden, did I mention that it is carried on their heads?

 

One of the local chaps wandered over and struck up a conversation. He suggested I gave it a go. I first asked the ladies permission, I did not want to insult anyone. They helped me get it up on my head, not an easy task. The added weight on your head throws off your centre of gravity and with every step, the water slops to the side. You have to be very sure footed because once the bucket is up, you can’t really look down. New respect, these ladies are tough as nails.

 

 

My effort was rewarded with juicy brown barbecued sausages and kidneys, shared with new acquaintances. We spoke about religion, politics and soccer as the day came to an end. This is Durban, this is Africa.