Today I went to see a working mine and processing facility located near the resort in Mica. As the name suggests “mica” was originally discovered at this mine. It is a natural Crystal that forms in flat layers it looks like a man made processed plastic that flacks off in layers and looks shiny and metallic to the eye. When Processed it is used in loads of things: an additive in paint to make it waterproof . Cosmetics to give it sparkle. It is a good insulator and is found as a main ingredient in silicon chips and in the element in your kettle. I had been invited by the owner to go there after getting in to a conversation with him at Hippo pools.
This place had been running for almost 60 years, and has been actively mined since the 60’s. The methods had not changed either. Imagine about 30 disinterested Africans sat on rocks chipping away with pick axes and crow bars. Like a load of convicts in a chain gang. Occasionally they would stop to have a cigarette by bundles of Dynamite. You could not make it up. The mine manager – Roy was as Old school as you can get. Worked in a mine for his entire life – this one for 13 years. He must have been born with a pick axe in his hand.
We (Ryan was there too) clambered into the back of a pick up truck and drove into this deep mine shaft into darkness with a glow coming from the back of the tunnel. When we emerged in the light we saw a massive cavity and tunnel network, the result of 60 years of digging and blasting away into the ground. A Fine powdery dust hung in the air making me wonder about health and safety (or lack of it) but then again remembering the kid in the “slaghuis” this was never really much of a consideration out here.
After the mine a tour of the processing facility was completed. There seemed to be several teams working with 1960 equipment and a definite hierarchy in jobs. My favourite (and probably the lowest) was the beater. This was a guy who was paid to bang the shit out of a brown paper bag as it filled up with the very fine powdered Mica. This mica was a 10th of a Micron and had to be bashed to let the air get out of the powder. The stick man was the solution.
Next up the chain you had shovel man. Shovel man would gleefully shovel a mixture of Mica and dust in a sludgy soup into the massive 8 foot industrial grinders in order to crush up the mica into powder form. Not to bad considering this is hard labour, but then add the 40c African sun into the equation and it starts to get pretty nasty. Then further up the chain you have the miners. At least the don’t have to work in the sun, they just have the prospect of dust fucked lungs, roof collapse or if the are lucky blowing themselves to small parts with dynamite.
It was pretty interesting seeing the crystals in the Rock and seeing how they are processed to finished product. This mine produced 3% of the world Mica between not many guys is very old fashioned conditions. I found this fascinating. More so that some large corporation probably spends £200000 on investing in an automated brown paper bag beater which no doubt breaks down, when they could just get an African guy to do it for £100 a month. And more over if they have someone particularly career orientated, he has the prospect of sludge humping and blowing himself up to look forward to if he beats enough bags with enough enthusiasm.
That evening I was relaxing by the pool at the resort surrounded by frogs. One of them – a particularly large and warty looking fella decided that my left shoe was to be his new home. Good job I checked them before I put them on. A vigorous shaking resulted in a fat slapping sound and a very disgruntled frog being evicted.
Second Posting.
South Africa Gap Year Research Trip
14th February
A Gay Date in the worst Irish Pub in Africa.
Today Hen went back to England for 2 weeks, I was going to be heading off to Cape town myself but instead I decided to stay and start my flying instruction.
In the evening I went out for dinner with Ryan, I forgot it was valentines day as we entered “O Hagans”. This place was a semi Irish/semi African watering hole. Imagine a few Irish signs pointing the way to Tipperary (a bloody long way from here eh?), and marketing posters for Jameson’s coupled with A thatched room and you have the idea.
As we sat down at the bar the bar man gave us a funny look, slowly lent over the bar top and said:
“You guys fancy eating? Tonight we are doing a special valentines day dinner” Ryan and I glanced at each other in then stated in unison. “We are NOT gay.” Not sure he believed us, as we did look pretty gay turning up for dinner on Valentines day. Anyway we decided to eat and had a lovely romantic valentines day dinner, however I declined on the candles and roses.
It was while we were in the pub that Ryan told me a funny story. Apparently he was having a few problems with his staff a few months ago, things were going missing from the rooms, one day he found the culprit, one of the girls had stuffed a curtain in her bag. This revelation was met with a bemused look on my faced followed by “What the fuck! Who steals a curtain.”.
“She was going to give it to her mother to make a dress.”
Another bemused look. “Eh? Who the fuck makes a dress out of a curtain?”
It was then that it hit me, there were some overly flowery numbers and pastle dresses on some of the women in the bar. It was at this point I resolved to keep a very close eye on my mosquito net, or before long some dude would be walking down the road in a mosquito net shirt at my expense.( probably Ste Campey – he always did go for materials he describes as “floaty”).
Thailand gap year | Kenya gap year | Brazil gap year | Tanzania gap year | Mozambique gap year | Ecuador gap year | Namibia gap year | Brazil gap year | Tanzania gap year | Mozambique gap year | Ecuador gap year | Venezuela gap year | | south africa gap year | | australia gap year | | africa gap year | | asia gap year | | Fiji gap year | | New Zealand gap year | fitness holiday | Gap Year Diving
