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Spa

“So do you think we can?”

“I think so. Don’t you?”

We have been talking like this for most of the day. Dr Kekana told us about a spa resort near the hospital which she went to last week. “You must go,” she said, “it is so nice!” We mentioned it to the manager’s secretary and she said she would arrange transport. However it kind of goes against the grain – leaving the site when you are supposed to be available.

“It’s only 7km away – we can be back in 15 minutes if we need to.” I say.

At 5pm a hospital 4WD rocks up outside the house. We climb in and set off. Our driver, Adolph, is a genial fellow who works in the Facilities department. As we chat it turns out he is not Zulu at all but Sotho, from Limpopo. He came to KZN some years ago for work.

The spa is only a few minutes drive down the dirt track. We park and find the bar. It is a highly improbable set up – “luxury” accommodation and a restaurant nestled in a valley in this remote part of rural Zululand and full of elderly Afrikaaners – come to “take the water” I suppose. Villas line the slopes, each with dramatic views over the valley. The spas themselves look as if they have seen better days. The brochure says they are 41 degrees – a dip of a toe reveals this to be an exaggeration.

We sit in the bar for a drink with Adolph and flip through the fliers on the table. Apparently you can also hunt here – shoot a Zebra for only R650.

One of the younger Afrikaaners comes over and gets into conversation with us. He explains to me with great animation how exactly to kill an elephant (shoot out its knee and then blow out its brains just in front of the ear. The skull is too thick if you try between the eyes apparently).

Dinner is steak – fantastic after nice, but slightly same-y hospital food. Adolph watches the Afrikaaner group as they in turn watch the news. There is lots about the strike. Adolph leans forward and whispers, “If they knew I was ANC – phew!”

We wrap up after an hour and half. We are on call after all. We get back and Hendy nips into outpatients. He comes back to the house 5 minutes later. “No one,” he says with satisfaction as he slips “Spaced, series 1” into the DVD player and we both settle back for another tough evening on call.

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