South Africa Diary, Part 2 – IT’S ONLY A FLESH WOUND!

I have the blood of Africa running through my veins, and now I’ll be leaving some of that same blood on the old continent.  More about that later.

If I may make a suggestion – if you ever get the chance to go on tour somewhere exotic on the coattails of Renée Fleming – TAKE IT!  Renée and her family (daughters, brother & family, mom, personal assistant) got into Durban, South Africa on Tuesday morning.  Tuesday at lunch we had our “presentation.”  This is when the schedule was revealed.

This is Renée’s first trip to South Africa and the folks here are pulling out all the stops.  Handlers have been hired to arrange family travel, interviews, sightseeing, eating, whatever you want.  Quite a production, but this is really big stuff for the country so they want it all to work out right.  Her picture is everywhere, there is press to placate, politicians to glad-hand, etc.  One thing I noticed almost immediately was a large, quiet, nattily dressed young man wearing dark sunglasses.  His name is Raymond and he’s a very nice guy, but he’s such a stereotype that you keep expecting to see him talk into his shirt collar.  If you pay attention you notice that Renée is always in his sight, and there seems to be a slight bulge in the neighborhood of his right jacket pocket.  The South Africans are taking no chances with La Diva.

In the evening we drive into Durban to do a press conference (or should I say that I sat there smiling while the press fawns all over the lady to my right) and then it is my pleasure to introduce Renée to the KZN Phil and the chorus.  They’re thrilled to have her here and they’re even more thrilled after a few classic vocal moments.  It is always a pleasure to see smiles break out in an orchestra.  The rehearsal itself is a slog, though.  This seems like a long program with lots of music, and then to add a little spice Renée makes a change.  We are scheduled to perform the Ave Maria from Verdi’s Otello but she suggest we do the whole scene, which is all well and good except that the last time I’ve either seen the score to or heard anything from that opera is 1995.  Time to sight-conduct some Verdi.  Fortunately everyone else is in the same boat, except for Renée.  And fortunately it’s Renée we’re working with – she’s an extremely patient artist and I wish that more divas were like this Diva.

Wednesday is the day of the dress rehearsal but since that will be in the evening our handlers have scheduled various sight-seeing things during the day.  The entire entourage piles into 3 vehicle and we head for the hills – the Valley of a Thousand Hills to be exact.  This beautiful area just west of Durban starts to get into the heart of Zulu territory.  First stop is a classic tourist trap called pheZulu (pronounced pay-zulu) which I recognize from my first visit to Durban in 1998.  It is a reproduction of a typical Zulu village complete with the re-enactments of Zulu dancing, stories about the culture, etc.  You know the drill.  To the locals it’s either old hat or history, but to us it’s pretty exotic.  The Zulu folk are hilarious and very interesting and I much prefer their dancing to that step stuff that my other ancestors (the Irish) do.

Renée was so enthused by the Zulu dancing that she gave a little impromptu performance.  This is where things went awry.  One of the Zulu warriors was so taken by her singing that he insisted that she become his 3^rd wife!  There was a to-do, and because Raymond was in the loo I found myself having to defend Renée’s honor, so I leapt to her defense and fought the great Zulu warrior.  The battle was fierce and I took a wound to the top of my head, but in the end I defeated him and he relinquished his claim to her.

Or at least that’s the story I told the orchestra that evening.  What really happened is that I neglected to duck enough when coming out of one of the Zulu huts and managed to put a nice gash right onto the top of my head.  Scalp wounds being what they are I immediately started bleeding like a stuck pig which didn’t go over so well with my wife and kids.  Fortunately it wasn’t such a bad wound and I received medical attention from the vet who tends to the  crocodile farm attached to pheZulu.  I know – there’s a joke in there somewhere – a conductor having something in common with reptiles.  Nothing to do but take myself and my wounded pride onto our next stop, the iThala game resort.

In another classic example of “ride Renée’s coattails when you can” our lunch was at the lone house situated in iThala, and I would be stunned if this place isn’t featured in some architecture or travel magazine somewhere.  Just use your imagination and assume that if you have enough money to buy your way into a game resort you do not live in a double-wide trailer.  Hopefully I’ll remember to post some pictures along.

After lunch we spend two hours on a tour of the reserve.  Highlights include being within spitting distance of a male Giraffe, as well as the encounter with a Rhino and her calf merrily munching away on the veld.  The psychology of the Rhino was fascinating.  We were very close to them in the Range Rover but as long as we all stayed seated and didn’t talk too loudly mama was just fine with it.  The theory is that because of their generally poor eyesight we were perceived as one large creature and therefore not much of a threat. Obviously the Rhino species has something in common with most Brass sections.  But when one of the boys accidentally dropped a water bottle onto the ground things changed.  This forced our guide, Simon, to go out after it and that broke the “single entity” ideal that the Rhino perceived.  Suddenly, quite suddenly, mama Rhino was paying extremely close attention to us.  And did I mention that she had a calf with her?  Simon was very wary getting out of the Rover and picking up the bottle and frankly I can’t blame him.  There’s nothing quite like being stared at by an annoyed female Rhino from about 15 meters.

After a long day of battling the Zulu nation and hunting big game across the country Renée and I hurried off to the dress rehearsal.  Things at rehearsal started to come together but there was a helluva lot of music to get through.  One lovely quirk is that we are doing the famous Brindisi duet from La Traviata and the orchestra manager has arranged for two young tenors to alternate singing the duet with Renée.  No pressure.  There will be new young singers to fulfill that role in each city that we visit.

The day of the concert is a traditional day of rest for La Diva and frankly I can’t blame her.  Between the jetlag, the 5 rehearsals, and the various family adventures I’m exhausted.  I think a nap is in order, because you just know there’s a reception after the performance.  Things could get interesting.