The Wild Coast
This article is part of a series, for Part 1, please click here.
Having bid farewell to Mamkhulu and the folk at Kosi Bay, it was time to turn the bee safari southward to track honey from our second species Apis mellifera capensis – the Cape honey bee; supposedly, more docile than the “killer” African honey bee with whom he had just collaborated. We soon discovered this would not be the case.
Mazeppa Bay was the destination – the Wild Coast of the Eastern Cape, a part of the country heralded as the birthplace of Nelson Mandela and many other prominent South Africans. This area is part of the Transkei, a section of South Africa originally given nominal autonomy by the government as a homeland for Xhosa-speaking peoples. Today, it is still under the guidance of local chiefs who tend to the regular needs of their people. It is very evident while traveling through the Transkei where the boundaries between chiefs are: better roads, houses in better condition, and cleanliness are evidence of a strong chief.
It is quite sobering to enter some regions of rural South Africa. On our way to the Wild Coast, we passed through areas that were nearly devoid of activity and severely dilapidated. Whether a poor economy, a weak chief, or ravaged by the scourge of AIDS, it was apparent that some communities need help. It lifted our hearts to know that we were providing a small hope, albeit a very small token, to the community. Beekeeping is encouraged here as a way to utilize available resources, in a renewable fashion.
Mazeppa Bay
We knew we crossed the boundary into an area of a strong Chief immediately. The countryside was cleaner, the atmosphere less ominous, the people happier, and the roads in better condition. This Chief believe in community investment, and she believed in the value of an improved infrastructure and supporting a strong community morale.
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Dr. Cambray was familiar with this area, having been part of a government-sponsored initiative several years ago – a startup beekeeping co-op was begun at the local park headquarters, for which he provided training and expertise. Rolling through the gates, Garth even spotted the hives he personally had placed on the roof of a tool shed! These hives were still in operation, and would soon be harvested.
We arrived late afternoon, and activity here was nowhere to be seen. Certainly, no beekeepers were evident and we had no direct way to contact them – all cell phone numbers had been changed in the intermediate years! Finding someone with whom we could negotiate was a paramount concern, but first we needed to find someone who could translate for us (our meadmaker possessing only rudimentary command of the local language).
A few inquiries led us down the path to a new friend who soon would become our ‘handler’ – Vatiswa Simahla, a park ranger. She was understandably quite hesitant to greet us two strangers from afar (us, with all of our questions about where people were) and she thought perhaps we might have no luck getting honey here. It was hoped, by placing these hives under the dominion of both a strong chief and park rangers, the poaching of honey from these hives would be better thwarted. Alas, we learned this was not the case as youngsters from a neighboring area had recently helped themselves to the golden bounty. Were we the ones to be thwarted?
Trust comes slowly at times, but sincerity often wins the day.
While discussing our predicament with Vatiswa (in front of her mother’s humble abode) we noticed a large chili bush off to side being grown by the family. “Ah!”, exclaims Garth, “that is an excellent chili and one we can use for mead!” Indeed, the lady of the house had a stash of dried chilies, and we proceeded to work through our ‘handler’ to procure a quantity for the next batch of Makana Meadery’s iQhilika African Chili Mead; the sincerity of our project was starting to become evident!
A cell phone was produced. Names of beekeepers from the past were suggested and – yes – we might be able to contact them. Joined by her associate ranger Lugiswa Ngqunkile, we then had the phone numbers we so desperately needed, and our pair acted as translators for the conversation. We would soon be joined by a beekeeper to discuss a purchase.
Enter: Thobile Lacha, “Tata Mkhulu” (as before: “Grandfather”). Tata was a member of the local co-op and, yes, there was honey available. But it was late in the day, and we needed his associate Boye-Boye to help the harvesting (he being much younger and having, no doubt, a much greater stamina).
The arrangement was made that we would meet at 9:00 the next morning, before which we would find Boye-Boye and give him a ride. |
Almost surprisingly, our schedule actually works – this is, after all, rural South Africa. Today, there is much more activity at the ‘office’. We soon have amassed a large team including Garth (as director), our two beekeepers, myself (as documenter), our two handlers, and four other rangers.
Each hive must be checked, and we soon determine which are the most promising ones. We sedate the bees in the hives-of-interest with a smoker – smoke masks the pheromones that trigger aggressive behavior from members of the hive; however, Boye-Boye and Tata make a critical mistake by calming only the hive they are working on and not those surrounding it!
At Kozi Bay, we had only a few boxes to handle so had ‘smoked’ them all and consequently calmed all the bees in the area. Here, though, the neighboring hives became agitated by our handling of their brethren and proceeded to chase everyone not wearing a bee suit away. Yes, this entails stinging the enemy. First up? The visiting head of the beekeeping co-op, who just dropped in to see how things were going. More a businessman than an active keeper, his clean-shaven pate must have presented an enticing target for our bee friends – much to the delight of the assembled crowd.
True, one should never laugh at another’s misfortune but it must be admitted that his running around with flailing arms was most certainly humorous! Everyone shared this moment of hilarity – he, too, being a good sport about it – until each member of the team was subsequently harassed in a similar fashion by the panicked bees.
The secret to avoiding an angry bee? Simply walk away calmly, without great animation, and watch your breathing – bees are attracted to the CO2 you exhale. |
Such shared trials, though, are truly the stuff of legend; no doubt, this episode will become a great story for those in attendance – a tale of bravery in the face of a swarm of killer bees. That will be one reward for their help that day.
Our reward? Six buckets of precious Mazeppa Bay honey, complete with comb & indigenous yeasts – a perfect addition to the Methode Accidental project.
Next: Surfer-dude honey?
You can see the hive boxes at 32°26’29.38”S, 28°36’41.03”E.