Mark Palmer
DURBAN NOTEBOOK
N
o one likes uncertainty and in
Britain we’ve got more than our
fair share. But spare a thought for
South Africa, where the uncertainty
is in danger of morphing into national
paralysis. ‘What are your plans for the
future?’ I ask a friend who lives near
Durban. ‘We have no plans. We might be
packing up next year and heading out.’
A lot rests on next year. The general
election appears to be set for May and
with every day the pressure on President
Cyril Ramaphosa increases. The 65-year-
old millionaire is stuck between the rock
of his more militant ANC supporters
and the hard place of those impatient
for root-and-branch change. Which
means stamping out corruption, tackling
unemployment (some commentators
put it at 40 per cent), dealing with violent
crime, resolving the redistribution of
land issue and rehabilitating, variously,
the tax collection agencies, police
investigation teams, security firms
and the prosecution service. That’s
for starters. No wonder Ramaphosa is
lying low. ‘I am going to vote for the
ANC for the first time in my life and
just hope Ramaphosa wins a thumping
majority and then sets about rebuilding
this country,’ says my friend’s husband.
‘Right now it could go either way.’
T
he lying-low policy is not proving
easy. I awake to headlines about
how the president’s finance minister,
Nhlanhla Nene, has resigned over
links to the notorious Gupta family,
who allegedly controlled cabinet
appointments and state contracts during
Jacob Zuma’s disastrous nine-year
presidency. Within hours, the rand falls
and the prospects of the appalling Julius
Malema, leader of the far-left Economic
Freedom Fighters (EFF), seem brighter.
Then comes news that the Zulu king,
Goodwill Zwelithini, is forming an
alliance with a hard-line Afrikaner
group to protect tribal territory and that
‘anyone who wants to be elected by us
must come and kneel here and commit that
[he] will never touch our land’. Never mind
that former interim president Kgalema
Motlanthe has described leaders such as
King Goodwill as ‘tinpot dictators’.A
nd yet South Africa is also joyful. We
stop for petrol at a service station
near Melmoth deep into KwaZulu-Natal.
A smiling young man offers to clean
our windscreen for ten pence, and a ‘hot
hero’ sandwich costs 90 pence. An elderly,
aristocratic white woman is speaking fluent
Zulu to a woman behind the counter and
soon every member of staff is listening
intently before bending double in laughter.
Apparently she’s telling them she’s had a
furious row with her farmer husband and
is looking for a ‘hot hero’ to cheer her up.
The banter continues back and forth. No
one gets served for the next five minutes,
but customers leave with clean windscreens
and happy hearts. Things are a little
different at the Welcome Break service
station on the M4 near Junction 15.R
oelof ‘Pik’ Botha, who died last week,
was a government minister who
served in both the white National Party
and Nelson Mandela’s ANC government.
He said South Africa was like a zebra: ‘If
you put a bullet into the black stripe or the
white stripe, the animal will die.’T
here are hitch-hikers in this province.
They tell you where they are going via
sign language. An up and down motion of
the hand means they are heading for the
coast; palm facing down means they justwant to get to the next village; and a
raised palm means they are happy to
give a few rand in exchange for a lift.F
or all the chaos, British Airways is
about to start direct flights from
London to Durban. Smart move.
Safaris here tend to be cheaper than in
hot spots closer to Johannesburg, and the
Indian Ocean is gloriously warm, with
designated swimming areas protected
from the killer sharks. If you’re partial
to a curry, you’ll like Durban, which has
the highest concentration of Indians
anywhere in the country. Direct flights
also make it easy to stay at the iconic
Oyster Box about 20 minutes up the
coast in Umhlanga. Owned by the
indefatigable Stanley and Bea Tollman
(both well into their eighties) and part of
the Red Carnation group, it was rebuilt
in 2007 at a cost of more than £30 million
but remains loyal to its colonial past. The
Palm Court, where high tea is served, has
chandeliers bought at auction from the
Savoy Hotel in London.M
y father-in-law was a district
commissioner in Malawi leading
up to when the country gained its
independence in 1964. On official duties
he sported a crisp white suit and pith
helmet. I am forever under instructions
from my wife to bring home a helmet
similar to the one her father wore. It’s
never happened. But when I arrive at
the Oyster Box, the doorman is wearing
just the job. I ask him if he knows where
I might find one. ‘Talk to Mr Wayne,’
he says. Wayne Coetzer is the genial
general manager. I track him down and
pop the question. ‘I have a spare one
in my office and it’s all yours,’ he says,
adding that his mainly black staff love
wearing their pith helmets and even
chose to do so recently when asked to
vote on the matter. Elections in South
Africa can throw up surprising results.Mark Palmer is the Daily Mail’s travel editor.