South Africa: Robben Island

Table Mountain over, the only other thing I knew I definitely wanted to do in Cape Town was visit Robben Island. It was interesting to learn about the pre-Mandela history of the place, as that tends to be the thing people think of when in fact it has been used for so many things in history, including a leper colony, protection of Cape Town during WWII, and a bunch of other things that I've forgotten now but promise, it was really interesting at the time.

We had a bus tour of the village first, it's so weird to know that regular people still live there, and there are even a bunch of little kids who until 2011 were schooled on the island but since the school closed they get the first boat back to the mainland at 6am every day for school. Mostly it's people who work for Robben Island museum and government staff who live there but you can still choose to live there if you want, strange though! We were taken round the prison by a former inmate, though he didn't tell us what he was imprisoned for - I thought it was probably a bit rude to ask...?! He had some cool stories about when he was imprisoned with SA president Jacob Zuma, and that was the first cell we went in to. It doesnt really look like a cell now, as it's quite big without the beds and stuff in there, and they've filled it with big poster boards and stuff telling stories about life in the prison. It was interesting but we didn't get time to read them all. As we were approaching Section B which is where the political leaders were kept (ie. Mandela), I felt a worrying wave of nausea sweep over me, and when the cold sweats started I knew for certain that I was going to throw up. Given that the cell toilets were out of action (and being stared at by tourists) I quickly assessed my options - left: monument to the fallen prisoners, right: stone wall, directly in front: the former inmate showing us round, behind: Shanaaz. I was going to plump for Shaz as I was sure she would forgive me, but I had a last second change of heart and made a run for it. It was MILES back to the jetty where there was the only toilets, and half way I almost gave up and went in a bush, but there are signs everywhere saying that it's a UNESCO world heritage site and national park so I didn't think they'd appreciate me blowing chunks all over the place...

After the throwing up incident I managed to drag myself back to Section B and reconvened with Shanaaz, even though the rest of our group had finished and disbanded I really wanted to see Mandela's cell so I went back in and had a look. It was small and bare, and impersonal, just how I'd imagined. I did however imagine it as a much more poignant moment, but just as I took a photo we heard the boat sounding its horn, which meant we had about 2 minutes to get aaaaaaaaaaaall the way back down to the jetty. Shit man. We legged it. Last people on but just in time.