Richard Stupart

Last weekend was spent in Swaziland. If you have no idea where that is, then you would be forgiven. As long as you are not South African, in which case knowing the names of the landlocked nuggets of independence that constitute Swaziland and Lesotho really is expected. But I digress. Aside from such bizarre experiences crammed into 48 hours as a massage in a nightclub and watching a man dressed in an admiral’s outfit jam to the tunes in a club called House on Fire (Swaziland is landlocked. No I am not making this up), we also had a near brush with death on the first night traveling to the border.

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OK, so it will be more of a wild and brief  road trip than a proper voyage of exploration – but my camera and I and a good friend will be off to see Swaziland this weekend. It’s one of the perks of living in South Africa that we have the two vassal states of Lesotho and Swaziland which, although accepted internationally as real, bona-fide nations, are relatively nearby nuggets of land embedded in the superstructure of South Africa. This makes it possible to visit them in a weekend and make it back while still having time to do more than watch the world blur past a bug-encrusted windscreen.

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