The Malay Quarter tour--January 25, 2012

Because a friend had given Evangel a birthday present of three coupons for a tour of Bo Kaap--previously known as the Malay Quarter in Cape Town--she, her mom, and I made an appointment for the day before I left for home. It was a broiling hot day, and the tour was a walking one, so we sought shade whenever we could. The neighborhood was delightful to photograph, however.

This was a structure which was a haven for graffiti vandals, until recently when several artists were hired to redecorate it to depict the area's history, including the Malaysians having been brought to South Africa as slaves.

These Bo Kaap homes are brightly colorful and cheerful, many from the 17th and 19th  centuries. The tour guide, also the owner of the company, is in white.

There are at least eleven mosques in Bo Kaap. Our guide assured us ladies that the clothing restrictions for women are chosen by the ladies themselves ("Those cover-all veils are just man-made rules!"), and pants and/or long dresses in the mosque are worn, "...so the men won't look up our butts." Don't mind us, ma'am, just go ahead and express yourself however you like. Actually, I couldn't understand most of what she said, but apparently the bulk of it was complaining about the lack of government handouts and other persecutions for righteousness. I did, however, get part of the procedures Muslim corpses undergo, here in South Africa, and in Mecca (assembly line style there, due to the high traffic of "becoming late", as Mma. Ramotsewe would say.). After they've been entombed a while, then they are elbowed out of the way for fresh corpses, their bones left in a pile beside the tomb. At least that is how I understood the process.

Inside the owner's home for lunch, which was delicious, if small. The seating was not designed for tall people; I didn't know what to do with mine, and I'm not even tall, so I sat cross-legged. Still, an attractive room.

Two large windows opposite each other provided a lovely breeze for the room, and afford a nice view overlooking Cape Town.

We walked further up Signal Hill, and  our tour guide was walking so slow and gasping, I thought I might have to get behind her and push. In the distance is Lion's Head, which two or so years ago, a group of us climbed in the dark (never again, my dears).

The goal at the top, a cemetery. There is a tomb of one of the notable Muslims, which they even call "saints", plus the most pitiful-looking cemetery I've ever laid eyes upon. You can see the grave markers in the center of the picture--small, uneven, scattered. It's too late for those people, but many other Muslims can learn how to find eternal life through repentance and faith in Christ Jesus, if someone will just tell them.

 Our group standing at a spot past the cemetery, at the edge of a sharp drop-off. I wouldn't go near because it made me nervous with its loose rocks and no railing whatsoever. To stumble would probably mean death or permanent disablement. But my view was nice, much better than you'd get rolling down the hill.

Returning to our cars and thinking happy thoughts about air conditioning and ice cream awaiting us at Canal Walk.