Small stories from a big world

In December, I visited St Lucia. A town about 240 km north of Durban. It is sandwiched between sea and lagoon and it is beautiful. A large nature reserve. That nature also just comes into the town. I saw a warthog grazing on a lawn in front of a house. And there are signs everywhere warning you about hippos. They walk in at night to have a taste of that tender grass. So it's better to move around by car after dark. And monkeys, of course! You can see them jumping from branch to branch in the trees, searching rubbish bins, shouting at each other. In short, nothing they don't do back home in Durban either. But one thing was different. On Sunday morning I am having breakfast served on a covered terrace. I sat at a small table between the garden and the breakfast buffet. The other guests had left early. A large troop of monkeys was roaming the neighbourhood, several of them in the garden of this lodge. But, how extraordinary, none made any attempt to take anything from the buff...

  A human being is a territorial animal. You can also see this instinct in how we try to protect our personal space. Just think of all the remedies gardeners in Europe used last year against snails. In the south, it's different pests again. In Vietnam, it was a matter of keeping rats out of the house. And cockroaches! Those really big ones with long antennae. You'd rather not hear them rustling in the dark. Accidentally step on them with your foot. Brrr. No, thanks. There are spiders and ants. In Rwanda, a cupboard was eaten by termites. Once a scorpion wandered in. Over the years, I learnt some techniques to kindly show these little uninvited guests the door or tolerate them, like the geckos whose droppings you find all over the place. Here in Durban, in the fairly tropical province of Kwa-Zulu Natal, you also have cockroaches and ants and things like that. But new to me are the monkeys that just move around in this urban environment. They are vervet monkeys. They are not ...

  Pressing the button on my remote. The garage door rolls up and I walk in quickly. It's raining, hard. That's convenient. The rain will wash away the dust that has accumulated on my car over the past few weeks. It seems symbolic. The rain clatters on the windows and washes away the last remnants of ‘holiday in Belgium’. It is quite a drastic transition. In so many ways. Saturday morning -still in Belgium- I still went jogging on a slippery road, my breath formed little white clouds and my gloves could not prevent my hands from stiffening from the cold. When I stepped off the plane on Sunday evening, it was as if a warm, wet towel was wrapped around my head. Thirty degrees warmer. Twenty-four hours of travel and being in a completely different world. Even before I leave the garage, I press the central locking button. It's safer that way. The steering wheel is on the right side. I reverse and merge into the left-hand lane. The indicators and wipers are also reversed....