Meeting the South African WiseMan

Hermit Hovel by RollingMan

So, when I met with the three of them (the WiseMan and his two friends), they were all drunk on white wine. It was a hot and sunny and beautiful Saturday afternoon in South Africa - and I guess a few chilled glasses of white wine could hit the spot.

I introduced myself and gave the WiseMan the red wine I brought for him as a gift. One of his friends was a winemaker, and he was in a very good mood - a very good mood indeed.

After they found out I hitchhiked, the WineMaker would hear nothing more about it. I was going to stay with him the night. He showed incredible South African hospitality.

We all chit chatted about this and that, about the small things and the great things, but unfortunately not about the important things. They were drunk and not in the mood for it.

The WiseMan had pizza delivered to us. It was a sign of his hospitality, because I told him I was hungry. I had been traveling for hours to see him.

After, they brought out two more bottles of white wine. In total, they may have each drank a bottle or more of wine that day. The WiseMan's cheeks turned a bright baboon red, and he said he needed a rest.

I was disappointed. I came all this way. I wanted to share my story. I wanted some wisdom. I needed some help. But it happens. Whatever it was.

The WineMaker and his buddy took me around town. We went to a bar on the hill. The WineMaker kept talking about how bad the methodists were for some reason. Later, he introduced me to a number of friends and his girlfriend.

One of the WineMaker's friend said, "My grandmother believed in only two things: Methodists and Jan Smut. Methodists aren't good people." I wondered what was wrong with these methodists.

After the sun had set behind the hill, he took me to his place. He had a cozy and well-built and well-designed home. I slept in a nice bed. I had to take a short shower. Their area had so little water - everyone was waiting for Day Zero to hit soon.

The WineMaker talked with his girlfriend and friends. He was rather drunk - so much of it didn't have too much relevance, but some of it was interesting.

I slept for 9 hours, but when I woke up, I didn't feel rested. I think I had a glass of wine too much too.

The WineMaker and I and one friend had breakfast. It was decent but nothing to rave about. Nobody was in a good mood; they all looked hung over.

I stopped by the WiseMan's place. He looked hung over too. I said good bye to him. I was still a bit disappointed I didn't get the wisdom I was seeking.

After, the WineMaker took me back to town through the backroads - where I was able to see some beautiful African birds fly through the fields. I even saw African deer that looked like a unicorn.

Before he dropped me off at my AirBnB, we did another wine tasting. That lifted both our moods. What is it about wine that it could do that?

The WineMaker told me about all the different varieties in the region. He knew them well, and he even knew the year of each one. We overlooked more of the mountains, and I told him stories, like when that speed boat almost tried to kill me Colombia. We talked a lot about travel.

After, the WineMaker paid. That was generous of him. I tried to pay. I regretted not paying, so much so, I thought about it for days after. He was such a generous man.

After he dropped me off, I met my next host - who turned out later to be a White Supremacist that believed the Jewish race was trying to enslave or kill him. Imagine staying with someone like that. He tried to be polite, but he was so full of rage and anger and stress, it was hard to be around him.

In any event, the next morning, my next host gave me a ride to the nearest train station. I was able to make it back into town, but I kept wondering what was the point of all that. I didn't learn much. They seemed kind of suspicious of me, but they were too drunk to let me even explain my story.

I wish I could have told them that their wisdom needs to be invested in the next generation for mission to continue. I wish I could have told them that I probably had knowledge for them as well, or more about my own journey. But perhaps next time. There could be a next time, however and whenever that happens.

But I was still proud of myself, I had did it against the odds. When I came back, I was welcomed with smiles as I told everyone: I did it! I saw the WiseMan of the South African Mountains, and I told the people my story.