Chapter 11 – On the Table!

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– Wakey-wakey! Breakfast’s ready!
Emma entered the guest room in which Sayowa had spent the night. She seemed quite energetic for a morning.
– And then, you depart for the Italian’s house.
She turned around and left. Sayowa heard her talking in the hallway and as she went down the stairs: “What a story, all this way to find the old Stefan Limoni.”
Sayowa stretched her arms, yawned for several seconds. It had been a while since she had slept that well. The bed was soft, comfortable, like a cloud. A nice scent of freshly cut flowers welcomed her in the world of the waken. A thick curtain darkened the room, a nice colourful bouquet was sticking out of a vase placed on the night stand. It was not there when she had gone to bed.
She sat on the side of the bed and put her clothes on. They had been washed the day before and had dried during the whole afternoon. They were as soft as the sheets which enveloped her during her slumber and smelled as good as the flowers that awoke her.
She exited the room, went to the ground floor, in the dining room where the table had been covered with plates, baskets and bottles: two different types of bread, jams of every colours, butter, juices, coffee, tea, apples, bananas. Sayowa did not know from which end to start.
Cutting her deliberations short, Emma appeared holding a frying pan which had been used to fry four eggs.
– Come on, get back your strength. You barely ate the past four days.
Sayowa sat and helped herself. The fragrance of the coffee had whet her appetite since she had arrived downstairs. She filled up her plate, her mouth, and finally her stomach.
She concluded the meal with a slide down her chair, holding her belly with both hands.
– You eat this every morning? How are you not fat?
– No, this is the selection for guests of honour. Are you finished?
– Even if I wanted to eat more, I don’t think it would physically be possible.
– Good, I wouldn’t want the signore Stefano to say I don’t feed his best friend’s granddaughter. I’m going to get Oli who will drive you.
Emma went out of the house, Sayowa remained by herself with the vestiges of the meal. Oli driving her? That meant he was older than he looked.
She was about to see Stefano. She had gone from Livingstone to Cape Town, on her own, and would finally reach her goal, after she almost gave up on it. Was that the lesson she was supposed to retain from that trip? That you have to do whatever you want to reach your objectives? Or was it just luck. Moreover, she had not really completed her mission yet. That Stefano man, she would believe him when she saw him. She remembered the Swakopmund fiasco.
The front door opened on Emma who motioned to join her. Sayowa took her chitenge on the way, now quite full, and left the house.
The small purple car was waiting in the courtyard, Oli at the wheel. Sayowa sat on the passenger seat, Emma leaned to the window.
– Take good care Sayowa. And if anything happens, there will always be room for you here.
– Thanks Emma, I’ll come back to see you one day.
– Oli, careful on the road okay?
– Yes ma’Emma.
He started, took the dented alley until the gate, and then the road.

Oli wore a purple t-shirt and white shorts in which floated his skinny arms and legs. Sayowa did not really know what to tell him, since he did not seem very loquacious. They were driving in silence.
They engaged into a valley, leaving the green hills behind, heading towards high peaks drawn far ahead. As they were getting closer, the mountains unveiled in proportions that Sayowa would have never thought possible. No comparison with the big red rocks of Damaraland. What they were heading towards was a collection of giants, which summits flirted with clouds.
For the moment, they were still progressing into a rather arid plain. Soon, they rode along what seemed to be a village, but with no real houses, only shacks made of zinc panels. As they were going forward, that village turned out to be a full on agglomeration.
– It’s the township from which I come, Oli said. The second largest in South Africa.
– Oh, it looks good, Sayowa politely said.
– No, it’s not good. It’s Emma who found me and took me away from there. Life is tough in there.
– Oh sorry.
– It’s okay, you didn’t know.
The township, she saw as she looked at it with more attention, swarmed with life. The population seemed to be important, agglutinated in disordered streets. Oli speed up, to quickly leave the slum behind.
They got closer to the sea. Searching into her geographic knowledge, Sayowa conjectured it had to either be the Atlantic or the Indian Ocean.
– Oli, what is that sea again?
– It’s the ocean.
– Yeah but Atlantic or Indian?
He shrugged, not moving his eyes away from the road.
As they bordered the deep blue stretch, the relief developed on their right, the cliff on their left. They were getting into the mountains. The road winded along the littoral, the precipice was becoming vertiginous. Sayowa could not help but think that a fall there would be deadly.
Nice big villas built on huge rocks, protected by walls and electrified fences, enjoyed the panorama.

Oli stopped in a curve, in a place where the road got wide enough to fit a few parking spot and from where the view could be admired, protected by a low wall.
As soon as the door opened, the racket of the waves reminded Sayowa of painful memories. She got close to the small rampart, looked over to see the rocks suffer the never-ending assault of the water, several tens of metres below. The wind was going up the escarpment, striking her face. She barely heard Oli’s voice behind her.
– It’s that way.
She turned around. He was showing a nice blue house, laying on a massive rock inside the curve.
They crossed the road. From there, at the feet of the mineral wall, they could not see the house anymore. A bit further, an alley was going up through the rocks: the entrance of the residence.
Following that access, the villa became visible again. She could make out a thick garden which must have had an impressive view on the ocean.
Oli pressed a button and waited.
No answer, he pressed it again.
Sayowa’s heart was beating furiously. She had just realised that she had arrived to completion with her trip. There, at the almost south most point of Africa, she was about to accomplish the destiny on which Inyambo had set her.
Oli pressed the button regularly but nothing happened. Sayowa’s excitement dropped. “Of course, it would have been too good”, she thought.
– Mister Limoni is away.
Oli and Sayowa turned around. A man’s voice, hidden in a big 4x4 behind them, had hail those words.
– Hello Mister Van Waarden, do you know when he will be back? Oli asked.
– He told me he went to walk at Table Mountain, so he will certainly be back in the early afternoon.
– Thank you sir. Have a good day.
– Good day.
The man disappeared with a roar of the engine.
– You know him? Sayowa asked.
– This is Mr. Limoni’s neighbour
– Oh, okay. And he said he is where? Table…
– Table Mountain, it’s the highest mountain in Cape Town. What do you want to do? Go home or wait here?
– Well, is it far? Table Mountain?
– Not really, but it’s big. We probably won’t find him over there. It’s better to come back later.
– You know, with such an attitude I wouldn’t be here today. Come on Oli, be brave.
– I’m brave! But...
– Well prove it! Let’s go to Table Mountain!
Oli remained speechless as Sayowa walked away with big steps towards the car. She opened the door and sat, her legs shaking with adrenalin. The young man join her, took his spot behind the wheel.
– So? Are we going? she asked.
– Are you sure? Because he’s gonna get home and...
– If we don’t find him there, we can still come back here.
– Okay, but I’m warning you, Table Mountain is big.
– You already said that. Go!
He went.

They left the sea side to enter the lands. Sayowa was exhilarated by the perspective of that new adventure. It was fun to mess with little Oli. She was quite decided to get him out of his shell.
The road changed into an avenue congested with vehicles. No mistake about it, they were getting into Cape Town. The buildings of that metropolis fitted its mounts: disproportionate. The crowd, the traffic, all was agitated. The city, crushing. Sayowa sat deeper into her seat. Seeing that, could Livingstone and Swakopmund still be called towns? They were regularly forced to a stop in the traffic jam. The engines screams, the urban brouhaha, were becoming exhausting.
The city was surrounded by mountains of different shapes, one of them was elongated and flat on top. Sayowa thought she identified the Table Mountain.
They left the chaos, forking on a small road which elevated in zigzags. As they were getting higher, nature reclaimed its rights. After a turn, Sayowa could see the skyscrapers, way less impressive from above, with the ocean in the background. That vision disappeared before she could enjoy it, then reappeared at the next hairpin turn and so on and so forth, the buildings getting smaller each time.
They reached a roundabout where big red double deck buses were parked. Oli stopped there too, along a metallic safety rail.
Both went out. They were at the foot of that gigantic mass Sayowa had noticed earlier. They leaned against the barrier to look down at the city. From there, you could not imagine the effervescence that ruled it. Only its echoes could be heard, like a far away buzzing.
– There, we’re here. What do you want to do now?
– I don’t know, what is Stefano doing?
– He probably went to the top.
– Then let’s go up!
– It’s not that simple...
– If a seventy year old Italian man can do it, so can we, no? Which way?
Oli, resigned, showed her a few buildings further up.
They went closer. There, people of every age, of various appearances, whites, blacks and others, were standing in line in front of a small kiosk. Others stepped in and out of shops and snacks. Sayowa heard a panel of every language.
Suddenly, something appeared in the air. She made quick instinctive step backwards at the sight of the big cube slowly floating, descending towards the ground.
– Don’t be afraid, it’s the cableway, Oli said.
– I’m not afraid? What is that?
– It’s to go on top.
The cube reached the ground. There were people inside, visible through large windows on its sides. They got out through the back, before the people of the line went in. After a few seconds, the machine took off, pulled by a cable which disappeared against the mountain.
– We have to go in there? Sayowa asked, not fully assured.
– It’s kind of expensive. Do you have money?
– Nothing. So we can’t go up?
– We can on foot, but it’s not easy.
– Did you ever do it?
– No, but I’ve been told...
Sayowa was already going away, following the road which went along the massif. She had noticed a white man and a white woman, with sport clothes, athletic, each carrying a small backpack. For sure, they were going to try the ascent on foot.
Moving away from the agitation of the cableway, the sounds of natures became audible. A few overexcited birds accompanied the little girl in her enthusiasm. The distant rumble of the city was still present.
After a few hundred metres, the two athletes stopped in front of a wooden sign, went through it conscientiously and left the asphalt for a track which got lost in high bushes.
Raising her eyes to the side of Table Mountain, Sayowa noticed little colourful spots dispersed on the slope: climbers. There were a lot, proof that the undertaking was not insurmountable. If she focused enough, she could even make out the route leading to the top, through a vertical rocky face.
Oli joined her dragging his feet.
– It’s this way, Sayowa said pointing at where the man and the woman had gone in. Do you feel up to it Oli?
– Of course, he replied with an assured voice.
Sayowa got surprised by that sudden manifestation of confidence. He stepped in front of her and the entered into the vegetation.

The path was wide enough for one person, made of soil and flat stones. It was quite steep. Sometimes a big step required the knees to rise quite high. Sayowa’s long legs revealed to be sizeable assets.
After a few minutes only, she was out of breath. She heard Oli panting in front of her. He stopped next to a minuscule stream which wet the track in a curve. Sayowa got to his level, put her hands on her knees and exhaled slowly.
– So, you still want to climb? Oli asked.
She looked downwards, they had rose quite significantly compared to their starting point. She looked up, the summit did not seem to have gotten one centimetre closer.
She stood back up straight.
– You bet!
– Let’s got then.
Oli kept the head. She slipped on a wet stone and caught hold of a branch. He had not seen anything.
Her breathing became more regular, the beating of her heart calmed, she took a measured walking pace, her eyes on the shoes of her guide. The climb became a stroll.

The vegetation got less luxurious, some bushes still grew but their size got smaller. From time to time, Oli’s sole skidded, when sand covered a flat stone. She was then careful when it was her turn to step.
They progressed for a long time. Oli made another break, in the shade of a small tree. Sayowa considered the route travelled: the road, down below, was very tiny. She checked what was left to accomplish. The crest had not moved a bit, it was still as high. How was it possible?
Oli was breathing heavily.
– You... okay? he said, inhaling between words.
– Very fine, Sayowa said, proudly.
The urban echoes had fully disappeared. Only subsisted the chirpings of nature. Cape Town looked like a scale model, stuck between mountains and ocean. As she fixed her stare on the horizon Sayowa could, for the first time in her life, see the curvature of the Earth. Her throat was taken with sharp emotion.
Oli showed a conical summit to their left, at the edge of the city.
– There, this is Lion’s Head.
– What? she said, reluctantly letting go of her contemplation.
– The mountain over there, it is called Lion’s Head, because it looks like the head of a lion.
– How?
– It does! The snout there, here an ear, the mane and the body down there.
– I don’t see it.
– You have to imagine it looks up at the sky.
Sayowa flipped her head to the side. What she saw was big pointy rock.
– Okay, let’s go no? We still have a long way to go.
That time she took the lead.

The path evolved, became craggier, the slope steeper, she felt her legs muscles getting tighter. They were rising and so was the sun. Its rays hit them strongly. They sometimes passed next to small groups of hikers resting in the shade. They greeted them, gently cheered at each other, asked for a sip of water to cool down. Other times, they were overtaken by athletes walking at full speed, who did not have time to discuss.
On several occasions, they had to use their hands to overcome an obstacle. Sayowa’s knees trembled uncontrollably with fatigue. She often gave side glances to Oli who seemed to suffer as much as her, maybe even more, his skinny legs clearly not being made for that type of effort.
They must had done half of the way. Sayowa did not know if she would be able to complete the rest.
– Break?
– Break! Oli said with relief.
They collapsed in the shelter of a few leaves.
– We’re half way I think, right? Sayowa said.
– I don’t know, Oli replied in a wheeze.
– I think. Look, we’re almost at that wall. There at least we’ll be in the shade. And then we keep going between those two cliffs, all the way to the top.
Oli followed with his eyes the itinerary described by his partner.
– It looks even steeper than what we’ve done. If we’re half way, it might still be time to...
– Oh no! It might still be time to keep going, I hope that’s what you were about to say.
– When we’re up there, we’ll have to go all the way down again.
– That will be easy. And you’ll be able to tell Emma: “I did it! I conquered Table Mountain!”
The mention of Emma shook Oli up. He did some small movements with his head, as if he was pumping himself up.
– Yes. Yes you’re right. It’s not time to give up, we’re just warming up!
– There you go! But I mean, now we rest a bit right?
– Yes, yes.
Cape Town had become minuscule, insignificant. They were both giants capable of crushing it between their fingers.
Sayowa thought back to when she had left the village, a few days earlier: she was cold and scared, she abandoned her island for the first time. Today, she was on the roof of the world. Actually, not exactly. As Oli pointed out, what was left to accomplish seemed even harder than what they had already done.

When they stood up their cooled down muscle complained, but they only listened to their will and carried on with their hike. The mind took over the body. They did not care for their environment anymore, focused on every step.
They arrived in the shade of a tall cliff standing vertically in front of them. From there, it was straight to the top, in a gorge which shrank progressively.
They sat a moment on a rock, happy to be out of the sun, and then continued, Oli in front. Their progression was now more rock-climbing than walking. They had to use their feet, hands, knees. But the conclusion was in sight, getting closer by the minute.
Finally, Oli climbed a big white stone. He remained standing, two metres above Sayowa.
– We made it! he yelled.
– You made it, she rectified. Let me through!
He stepped aside. Sayowa grabbed a grip with both hands, put her foot on a small step, lifted her body, put the other foot, found another step, raised herself, pulled with her arms, rose. She discovered the table of the mountain: an almost perfect plain, a spread of flat rocks as far as the eye could see, from which a few small trees stuck out.
The path continued horizontally to their right. They walked effortlessly until they met a tarred promenade running along the side. When they arrived at the edge of the precipice, they were awed by the view. They overlooked the slope they had just passed. They could, with their eyes, go through the whole track, see every passage again, every tree. The city was smaller than ever, the sea mixed with the sky. Large birds glided peacefully in the air, certainly finding absurd the quantity of efforts mere humans had to deploy to master that mountain.
Oli and Sayowa sat down, their feet in the emptiness, as she had done with the fisherman at the edge of the falls, Mosi-oa-Tunya, an eternity ago. They savoured the silence and the achievement.

They then roamed the promenade which was going around the plateau until a space sprinkled with constructions: wooden platforms, benches, a restaurant, crowded with people, children, elders, a whole population they had not met during their climb.
“They took the cableway”, Oli explained.
Indeed, the basket was appearing and disappearing from the tip of the Table, regularly renewing the flow of visitors.
They slumped on a bench, observing a group of turbulent young English girls taking pictures over a platform.
It was easy to recognise those who had climbed on foot and those who had came mechanically. The sportspeople were crowned with sweat, their skin stained with sunburns, their appearance worn out. The others were serenely strolling, enjoying the cool breeze and the panorama.
Oli pointed at a small man who was calmly walking away from the crowd, looking absent-mindedly in the distance.
– Well, here is mister Stefano.

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Excerpt from “Recette de pizza pour débutant” © (SACD) Thomas Botte