Weekend in Durban, Part 0 (the teaser)

The witch doctor spiritual healer hummed softly to herself and rattled the chicken bones in her basket before pouring them out on to the floor. She stared intently at the patterns they formed, her eyes occasionally darting to our group crushed together in her small room in the township of KwaMashu on the outskirts of Durban where we were spending the night (above). We still smelled of "Zulu beer", a mason jar of which had been passed around before we entered (smelled and tasted like rotten milk). She then lit some herbs and began a long, raspy prayer in Zulu frequently punctuated with English references to LordJesusSavior.  Her words to us -- and the words of the distant ancestors she was channeling -- were soft and difficult to make out.  

We had to struggle even more to listen, as a small cluster of barefooted girls no more than 8-years old had gathered outside the thin walls and were listening to -- and singing along with -- "Call Me Maybe" for what must have been a half hour...

Our weekend in Durban was incredible for the richness we found, and even more so for the unexpected contrasts and mixtures throughout this beautiful beach city.  But since we've just returned from 6+ hours of driving and it's late Sunday night, we'll pick up with the story telling tomorrow.