Thursday, 1 January 1987: Travelling by Steam Train to a Lush Resort

Gaborone, Botswana, January 1987

I was awakened by my travel alarm clock at 2:45 AM.  Agh man – a grim way to welcome in the New Year.  With my three bags in tow, I staggered out into the cool night air of Kimberley.  Would I have to spend the next four hours on a cold bench on the station platform?  NO!  A station employee pointed to the coaches which were all assembled for the day train to Mafikeng.  Sure, it was okay to find a compartment and get some sleep before the train departed in a few hours.  Second class was practically deserted and stayed that way, so I had a quiet little room all to myself. 

Around 8:30 that morning in Warrenton, 1½ hours north of Kimberley, we left the electrified main line.  The electric locomotive was disconnected at the station and a big ol’ black Class 25NC 4-8-4 steamer took over.  The day turned out to be a busy one for me.  It was a slow trip with lots of stops in African villages as the line went through two enclaves of the Bophuthatswana black “homeland”.  At practically every stop, I’d jump out to get photos of the iron house blowing off steam or adding water.  There were also numerous colorful African subjects available on the platforms for candid shots with my 200 mm telephoto lens.

This big guy (the locomotive, not the chubby railroad employee) pulled us from Warrenton to Mafikeng.

 

I was practically out of food, there was no dining car on the train, and it was New Year’s Day out in the platteland which reduced the odds of finding anything to eat at our various stops.  At noon, we had a 20 minute stop in Vryburg, and I managed to find a café next to the station.  Other than candy, chips, and soft drinks, all the African lady had for lunch were hot Russian sausage sandwiches.  I took my chances, found the sandwich quite tasty, and was relieved not to get sick. 

The only other people in my car were two Afrikaner boys, aged about 15 and 18 with their mother.  They were on their way to Johannesburg to visit relatives when their car broke down near Vryburg.  So they decided to catch the train to Mafikeng.  From there, they would ride the overnight train to Jo’burg.  The boys spent some time visiting me in my compartment.  We talked about sports, politics, and the differences between life in South Africa and America.  When his younger brother wasn’t around, the older one asked what I thought about dagga (marijuana). I told him it was fine if used in moderation.  It was fun corrupting an Afrikaner youth.  

Rounding a curve in the flat, arid landscape north of Madibogo, Bophuthatswana.   

There was a four hour wait in Mafikeng for the Jo’burg-Bulawayo express which I would be taking to Gaborone.  I’d had three previous layovers in Mafikeng, not exactly the most exciting place to wait for a train.  This time I decided to splurge and got a ride in an African mini-bus to the Mmabatho Sun Hotel & Casino.  Sun chain hotels are found all over southern Africa, particularly where gambling is legal as it is in the Bop homelands.  Their most well-known resort is Sun City located in another Bop enclave about 140 km northwest of Jo’burg near Rustenburg.   It has been popularized by the 1985 anti-Apartheid song, “I Ain’t Gonna Play Sun City” recorded by the Artists United Against Apartheid who declared they would not play gigs at Sun City.  See the video:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aopKk56jM-I  

The well-irrigated grounds at the Mmabatho Sun Resort provide quite a dramatic contrast with their arid surroundings populated by poor Africans.

 

Being neither a gambler nor an aficionado of Las Vegas-type resorts, I had never “played” any of the Sun Resorts during my nine months in Africa.  The Mmabatho Sun is a smaller version of Sun City.  There was nothing spectacular about the setting – flat bush country just down the road from the Bophuthatswana national stadium.  The hotel grounds had the appearance of an oasis.  They were lavishly appointed with fountains, flowers, and lush vegetation.  I wondered from whom they had stolen all their wasted water that might have been better used to irrigate vegetable crops by the local people.  In addition to the guest rooms, there were the usual restaurants, conference facilities, swimming pool, casino, and other recreational amenities. 

I had an early dinner in the Sun’s informal restaurant.  The food was so-so and overpriced – R16.40 including a couple beers and tip.  I got the impression that this particular resort catered to families.  It was dinner hour for the kiddies, and dozens of little buggers were noisily chomping away at nearby tables.  A dork in a clown suit was going around reminding them of the evening’s activities.  May of the kids were accompanied by their upper middle class, white South African mothers, who were apparently having their dinners later.  There were even a couple of black nannies present.  And, there was a table occupied by Indian mothers and children who were allowed to be in the restaurant with whites because Apartheid technically does not apply in the black homelands. 

It was difficult finding a taxi back to Mafikeng, and I made it to the station only 15 minutes before my train pulled out.  Four hours later I was back in Gaborone, four days before the start of the second semester at the university.