All language subtitles for S.T.T.A.S01E05.South Africa [eng]

Africa.

There's nowhere
else quite like it.

A billion people speaking
thousands of languages.

A paradise for wildlife
and natural wonders.

And I'm making a journey through this place

that travels this way
aboard Africa's railways

to meet its people and
experience its breathtaking meeting.

From arid desert, to vivid grassland,
from wild forest, to pounding river,

from station to wonderful
station, a navigating, a continent.

And on this, my fifth and final journey

I'm traveling to the
very tip of South Africa.

What better way could there be?

I've seen what is probably the
most beautiful country in the world.

But by following the Iron
Road that carried its gold,

its diamonds, its guns,
and ultimately its freedom.

I'm taking a railway to the
heart of the rainbow nation.

South Africa is the big country, five
times the size of the United Kingdom.

Its national parks cover
16 and 1/2,000 square

miles with a huge
diversity of wildlife.

But the wilderness is
just one part of this nation.

More than half its 54
million people live in its cities.

Some of the busiest and most
exciting anywhere on the continent.

It's a country of extraordinary variety.

And it's a country that has seen massive
change, especially in its recent past.

And it's a country that has used
its trains seriously and politically.

South Africa is
effectively a railway state.

80% of all the railways in
Africa are here in this country.

Elsewhere in Africa, the railways
were built by colonial powers

keen to conquer territory or
to get at the continent's riches.

Where do I find the country?

But here, the railways tell the
story of South Africa's people.

From the country's mine
workers, to its farmers.

And I'm going to explore how.

If I go just out of this exit here.

And it's just in front of me.

OK, thank you very much.

Thank you.

I'm starting my journey
in the capital, Pretoria,

where I'll make a short
hop to Johannesburg.

From there, I'll go cross country
to Kimberley and Cape Town.

And then a small step to
where the railway finishes.

On the edge of the continent.

Nowhere illustrates the change this country
has seen better than Pretoria Station.

One half is a monument
to the old South Africa.

The other, just next
door, is a shining example

of the new, a bit like the
first train I'm going to catch.

I now feel as if I've suddenly dropped
down into sub-hecaratorial Scandinavia.

But this is South Africa.

And this is the country.

The how train is a
high-speed link between

Pretoria and its massive
neighbour, Johannesburg.

Good morning.

All right, thank you.

It is hard the journey time
between them to 40 minutes.

But the fact that this
is the most modern

train in Africa isn't
what makes it different.

It's that the rail company
has tried to reinvent

the idea of train travel in South
Africa to encourage new customers.

This is a brand new,
fast, efficient, clean train.

How does this compare with
the other trains in the region?

I wouldn't know.

I wouldn't know if anything
here at the end of the trip.

But why would you say
you'd come on this train?

Because it's very convenient.

And safe.

And safe.

The hard train, from my experience, is
that people who make the own business.

It's like you see a chair,
you talk to yourself,

or you talk to your phone, or you
be on your network and, you know?

This is a comfortable train.

But it's also a controlled train.

And I'm not used to the attention I
get when I try to eat my breakfast.

When I say, how are
you? Good morning.

Good morning.

I'm very good.

Thank you very much.

Yes.

Are you about to eat?

I've got to know how dreamer is.

It's not that I'm not drinking any tea.

It's OK.

Number four.

I understand.

So just going to make a guess here.

This was my breakfast.

Safe chips.

You are not totally drinking.

You're not drinking any tea anymore.

What about am I allowed
to sing on the train?

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, OK.

There is a rules that you have to obey.

And it's 16 of them.

16 rules.

16 of them.

OK.

Some of them are
quite, I see, quite simple.

No guns.

No animals.

I left my gun, my horse, I
left everything in the hotel.

I only brought my food.

I saw somebody going down there with a bun.

So yeah, definitely with a bun.

So maybe you should go
and check it, check it, check up.

OK, all right, good.

Watchful security guards are all part

of reassuring passengers
for the how train is for them.

The reason they need that
is because for South Africa's

black population, trains have long been
associated with segregation and oppression.

And this all started with the birth of
the sprawling city we've just arrived at.

This is Johannesburg.

It's a place which has a lot of associations
for Brits, usually, to do with safety.

But for me, there's one thing
I'll always remember it for.

Cold chips.

Johannesburg is home
to over 4 million people.

Spread over 635 square miles.

It's one of the great cities of the world.

Thanks to its foundations.

This is a city that was made by gold.

130 years ago, there was
absolutely nothing here.

And now we're surrounded on
all sides by huge offices, which

are the offices of the great
mining corporations of the world.

The gold fields that we're standing
on here stretch for 300 miles.

It's not actually terribly
good or you have

to dig out a ton in
order to get three grams.

And yet nearly half
of the entire gold in the

entire world has been
dug from these fields.

When the gold rush began
in the 1880s, so did the

railways, and they both
transformed South Africa.

The railways weren't simply
built to take gold from the mines.

They were also used to control
the movements of the workforce,

burying them too and fro from
the outskirts of the fast growing city.

And on a sunny Sunday
morning, that's where I'm heading

to a place called Jepi to
see a legacy of the days

when the railways were
the opposite of freedom.

And this time, I'm not taking
a high-speed showpiece.

Good morning, how are you?

I'm good, thank you very much.

Am I on the right train to Jepi?

Yeah, you are, right, thank you.

Not on time. Not on time, yes, yes.

But you know that's the
same story all over the world.

I'm sorry, what is
your name, sir? Poor.

Poor. What is my name? Joyce.

My name is Chris.

Yeah, short for Griffith, I'm from
London, but I was born in Wales.

What is worse, Irish, than bliss?

Yeah, weird, that's our tribe, sir.

Paul and Joyce are on their way to church.

This is as normal a
train journey as it gets,

so it's hard to imagine
that during a part-eyed,

these suburban trains
were symbols of oppression.

Only black people took them.

I've come to Jepi to see a
rather unusual fashion show.

It began as a reaction against the
drudgery of the trains and the mines,

but I get distracted by a church choir
waiting for a bus and taking a rehearsal.

Yes, this is South Africa.

You're waiting here for transport.

We're waiting here for transport.

I'm wearing you going.

We're going to Springs.

This is a very big day, Pentecostal day.

This is the gathering day today.

I saw one of the other banks around 200.

So we are going to be gathered
together there by then, sir.

Well, I wish I could come
myself, but thank you so much.

Thank you.

They have made my morning.

I love you.

God bless you.

It's worth getting up on a
Sunday morning for that, isn't it?

But it isn't just the church choir
who have put on their Sunday best.

These are the guys I've come to see.

The swinkers.

Who every now and again,
keep up an old miners tradition.

The swinkers are over there
behind the taxi rank, getting changed.

The judge has been decided, Kenneth,
and any moment the swinking begins.

Swinking was invented
when migrants' Zulu

workers returned home to their
villages by train from the mines.

To reaffirm their individuality or their
success, they would parade like peacocks

in swanky suits to win
the attention of local girls.

Look at this world.

Already for men.

All right.

All right.

But everything is important from
the way you make your entrance.

Okay, well, now this one I like.

The point of swinking is not just the suit.

It's who looks best in the suit.

Are you going to get a suit like
that when you throw up? No, okay.

To do that, you have to draw attention
to the finer details of your outfit.

And it helps if you've developed
some pretty impressive shapes.

This does strike me as
the sort of entertainment

that you might expect to
see in a dark night club.

But we're doing it here in front
of the JEPI public toilet block.

Some of the ladies in the audience
are now getting quite excited.

And so am I.

There's time for just
one final group pose

before the swankyest
swinker will be ground.

The winner will number seven.

Lucky number seven is king for the day.

But if I'm honest, the main
event for me is still to come.

My swinking debut.

But having seen the
standard, I'm a little nervous.

My shirt.

What is this?

It's by no means form.

I haven't got the cuffions.

I've left my choreo at home.

You need this.

I need that.

Before I even start, I've seemed
to be in need of a makeover.

Yes, it's good.

The art of swinking is
about to be enhanced or

forever diminished by my
own unique, interpretation.

Soaks apart, I think I
could have a future here.

I'm sure next time you're enjoying this.

You're ready to read it
to me, but that's next time.

I know my journey through
Africa is supposed to be by rail.

But for the time being,
walking will do just fine.

I'm on my final journey
aboard Africa's railways.

South Africa is famed for its
beauty, its wilderness, and its wildlife.

And its railways are taking
me through its crowded

cities before I cross its
desert and scrub and farmland,

to the most suddenly passenger
railway station on the continent.

I want to visit a unique
train while it stops

in a small town miles
from anywhere called.

So there I can get there.

I've had to drive from
Johannesburg to Kimberley

to catch another train
that will take me there.

It leaves this evening, which
gives me time to explore.

Kimberley may not look dazzling, yet it
likes to be known as the city that sparkles.

They're so proud of the reason for its
existence, they've built not a film set,

but a full-scale replica of
what it looked like in 1867.

150 years ago, nobody would
have wanted to build a railway here.

It was poor, poor farm he made.

Until Monday, a visitor discovered
some kids playing with some pretty stones.

They turned out to be diamonds.

My bit of glass is worthless.

Real diamonds made the
lucky few extremely rich.

The railways quickly followed
the discovery of the gems bringing

more and more workers with
pigs and shovels to dig like fury.

This is the big hole.

This huge hole in the ground
quickly became the most

productive diamond line
the world had it ever seen.

By the time that they finished, they'd
extracted 22 million tons of rock and earth.

And they'd got hold of
three tons of diamonds.

And all this meant that they needed
thousands and thousands of people.

So the mine owners
started to work out a system

of regulations and
taxes and permissions,

which kept the black
workers in their place digging.

It was the beginning of segregation.

And just like the trains in
Johannesburg a decade later,

the trains of Kimberley were
used to control where the

workers moved, where they
came from and where they lived.

The train I'm catching tonight
runs on the old mine workers railway.

And it has a particular
connection not just to the

hard slog of the mines, but
to freedom from apartheid.

But first, I have to get a ticket.

I haven't worked this out.

What happens is you have to get in a
queue, and then you wait in the queue.

And then you get to see the conductor and
the conductor gives you your compartment.

I don't have a ticket,
but I've just got to

identify myself so they
can tell me where to go.

Oh, I see. It's wonderful.
I'm going to take it out.

Are you? To a funeral.

I'll be right. It's just a plastic thing.

A long way to go.

Long way to go.

Yes.

But you have a ticket, do you?

No, I have a ticket.

Okay.

The last minute I came
and said that it was close.

And you hope they will have ticket.

I hope so.

It's just too few and you could be.

Thank you.

That's my reservation.

This is a reservation.

This blank must have nothing in here.

Do you know? That's right.

You're given.

Yeah? Okay.

Do you know where
I'm supposed to be?

My name is Jones.

Okay.

You have to go to number 3-inch.

3-inch.

Yeah, 3-inch.

Thank you very much.

This is 3-inch.

Did you get your ticket?

Yes, I got my ticket.

Well done.

No, ma'am.

No, ma'am.

I'm very great.

Have a good journey.

Have a nice trip to a nice journey.

Thank you.

The train company is called Shoshalosa.

The prepute enough,
because it means go forward.

But its significance is greater
than that, especially around here,

where evidence of Kimberley's past
industry can be seen in the gloom.

We're passing in the night.

These huge minds work places.

It's been calculated that
every single tribal group,

south of the Zambezi
River, was working in

Kimberley in the first 20 years
of its existence until morning.

And as they worked,
they sang a song that

reminded them of the trains that
took them home, called Shoshalosa.

It became an expression for
the encouragement and solidarity.

After a part-eyed, Shoshalosa
became a second national anthem,

transforming the railway from a
symbol of oppression to one of hope.

140 miles from Kimberley is the railway
junction town of Daha, and it's my next stop.

Perhaps it would appear just my stop.

So the worries mean, in case we're getting
off of the wrong place, nobody else.

Nobody else leaving the train at all.

But I've left the Shoshalosa
train here for a reason.

I just can't see it in the dark.

The R is a sleepy town
built around the railway.

The name means artery, not
because of the train lines, but

because of the underground
springs, the provided's water.

But today, the name seems
particularly appropriate,

because the R is
playing host to a knife line.

I got here to R in the middle of
the night, last night, so I didn't

notice this huge silver train here
on the other side of the platform.

But this is what I've come to see.

This isn't just a train, it's a hospital.

Almost as far as I can see, this huge
train, it's nearly a kilometre long, untold.

All the way along.

These are clinics of one kind or another.

What an inspired, simple idea.

But this massive train can get to
places which no hospital service could.

It's estimated one doctor
for every 5,000 people.

In Britain, we have a
doctor for every 370 people

and a hospital or health
centre in almost every town.

I'm meeting Lynette
Frusk, who keeps healthcare

on the move on South
Africa's rail network.

What's it called, the train?

The pillow paper train.

What does that mean?

That's from two different languages.

Swanna and Sutu, so it
means good clean health.

Because that's what we aim to do in
the different communities that we deserve.

How do you think for the railway?

I say the train is wonderful,
because it reaches every ages.

Because I just talked to a dancer.

So you've been to the team to her dad.

They've cleaned me, and
I feel fresh and healthy.

This is really wonderful to know ourselves.

Go to myself and I'm proud of
myself, because I can smile and laugh.

Yes.

There's surgery, counselling and screening.

But there's one part
of the train that always

has the most traffic
when it rolls into town.

This is where magic happens.

You see the joy in their eyes, because
some of them never had vision before.

So I actually know that you've got so
much impact on many people's lives.

This is the machine that we use to park.

Melissa and her colleagues
don't simply carry out eye tests.

They make glasses for their patients
on the spot around 200 per day.

Not a van really?

We have your glasses here.

Would you put them on and just read this?

It's a little bit nice.

Is it Canadian or Mercy? Yeah.

Okay.

As long as Muida is lucky.

Yeah, I'm just Muida.

Okay.

Good.

Here is the case.

The job glass is going.

Okay.

So we're talking Afrikaans down.

Yeah.

Okay.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Let's speak Afrikaans.

Thank you.

This train will continue
transforming people's lives into

R before moving along the
tracks to its next destination.

I have to do the same.

I've nearly reached the end of my epic
journey through this enormous continent.

But there's more of South Africa I
want to see before I reach my final stop.

All right, now about halfway between
Johannesburg and Cape Town.

And it shows up as a
tiny bit on this giant map.

Afrika is a big place.

I'm traveling by rail
through South Africa across

its great open spaces
and through its busy cities.

I'm heading for the end of the
line of the Cape, exploring the

connections between the
railways and South Africa's peoples.

South of the railway
town of Dar is the town of

Utson, which lies in
the western Cape region.

They come to witness the unique spectacle.

This is farming country where
the railways connected people

to the outside world and
took their produce to market.

Some of the fancy
buildings in this small town

seem to imply that
there was money in this.

The project is one of the palaces of Utson.

It was built at a time
when this town was

one of the wealthiest
places in South Africa.

And that was all based on one commodity.

Just for a short period,
this product became

pound for pound more
valuable than diamonds.

But that's because pound for
pound, it was as light as a feather.

In fact, it was a feather.

Although I'm taking to the air
to see these feathers for myself,

the birds they're attached to
are very much on the ground.

That's their fair, I think.

My out of Africa experience
gives me a bird's eye view

of one of the largest
ostrich farms in the country.

It's owned and managed
by my pilot, Mornie Yonka.

So how many ostrich do you have as a farm?

We farm with about 50,000 oyels, of which
the breeding birds, about 4,400 of them.

Most farmers have a tractor.

But this large kite attached to a glorified
lawn mower is the only way morna.

It can keep an eye on his birds.

Wow!

That's me, Taffia!

What an amazing treat for
me to have a look like this.

Well, what I can say is, Mornie was
12 redfoot, which made me now straight.

Where are we heading, Mornie?

Did you let go of there? I see.

The farmhand spent eight hours
a day, tending these giant birds.

And today, they're going to get plucked.

This one's escape?

Keeping ostriches in
line isn't easy, when

they can cover five
meters in a single stride.

Something totally a Jurassic
Park about these creatures.

Where do you get up
close? There they go.

They're through the gate.

What a sight!

Feather gathering coincides with the
molten season and is over in seconds.

Before the bird even
realises, it's been mugged.

The bottoms are now
as naked as a Christmas

turkey, and they can't
even ruffle their feathers.

This is all because some deeper in
a karaoke bark, I'm going down the

Rio Carnival without four or five
plumes out of the top of the rat.

A day's work on the
farm certainly builds up an

appetite, and ostriches are
a gift that keeps on giving.

Oh!

About twenty four
times the size of a hectic.

Good.

Here is the egg, and it goes like that.

Don't let it settle.

I'm quite sure how to achieve this.

They just don't have this
problem in MasterChef.

But it's time for me to do my Jamie Oliver.

Come in toast here,
have a look at that,

there we are, British
scrambled egg delicious.

Okay, now come on,
come on, have a little bit of

this, have a little bit,
come on, have a little bit.

Delicious isn't it delicious, it's
delicious, it's fantastically good.

Tastes like strawberries.

Now it does not actually taste like egg.

That's what it tastes
like, tastes like scrambled

egg, there's just quite
a lot of it to go around.

The freight line that
took the ostriches feathers

to market goes along
the coast to Cape Town.

But I'm travelling there on a different
line, and on a very different kind of train.

It leaves 150 miles northwest of Utson
from a town called Maggaspondane.

Maggaspondane is a quaint,
and he had rather strange place.

It wouldn't exist without the railways.

Little bank, little post
office, it's got everything

you need, it's tiny set down
in the heart of the desert.

And it's charming, and it was
built as the ultimate station buffet.

Before the days of in-car dining on
trains, this was one of the few stops

where passengers could alight to
quench their thirst and stretch their legs.

But the railway didn't just leave
a time capsule of Victoriaana.

A hundred years ago, it played a
role in a battle for the surrounding land.

The British realised that
if they wanted to control

the newly discovered gold
mines near Johannesburg,

they'd have to take over the
territory occupied by the Dutch.

The Caroon, a vast area of
semi-desert, became a battleground

of the Boer War, and the
British used the railway to invade.

Look at this.

This whole area is littered with
these empty, rusted tin cans.

They've got a hundred
years old, and they're all

remains of a vast army that
camped here, a British army,

which had come to engage
in a war, to grab all the

land to the north, for the
British, and for the gold.

They'd only just finished the
railway to get at the diamonds

in Kimberley, and now they
used it to bring 10,000 men,

20,000 horses, and camped them over
here in order to fight the Second Boer War.

The officers had rather better
accommodation over there.

Me too.

The army officers are long
gone, but the hotel is still popular.

I feel compelled to
showcase my singing heritage,

Even if I do need to
stumble through the words of

Shoshalosa, South Africa's
unofficial national anthem.

Shoshalosa.

That's the sound of the train.

Keep on going, Shoshalosa,
through the mountains of South Africa.

Stimmela Pum�sas, Frigar,
do you know the song?

Come sing it with us, you
know it better than I do.

Right there, under my head.

The next morning is departure time.

And I'm about to board a special train,
a train that combines the promise of the

golden age of travel with modern conveniences
to create an illusion of a lost era.

This is the most luxurious train
in Africa, possibly the entire world.

My penultimate train journey
in Africa will be a leisurely one,

and a completed contrast to the
suburban trains of Johannesburg.

Seven hours to Cape Town on a train
hydraulically balanced to ensure a smooth ride.

These railway carriages are,
by no means, something new.

Almost as soon as they built the railways, they
started putting on them, the most extraordinary,

private, tourist carriages to carry people up to
the far parts of the newly discovered country.

And yet they were built under
the most extreme conditions.

The railway that linked
Johannesburg to the east

of the coast was called
the railway of death.

Because so many people
had died, just trying to create it.

So it's ironic that this railway
also built to strip South Africa of

its mineral assets is today generating
money for the tourist industry,

which caters for almost
10 million visitors a

year, and employs one in
12 South African workers.

Today, I'm honored to join them
as a new recruit to the on train staff.

That's right, let's do it right.

Don't you ready? Okay, ready to go, do it.

It's approaching lunchtime, and
with a free bar on the Pride of Africa,

it's all hands to the pump for
these thirsty Australian tourists.

Well, I don't want to say
this, just in case you worried,

there's about a lifetime
supply of booze down here.

With everyone watered, but
not yet, fed, I'm slipping away

while they have lunch to try
something I never thought possible.

I think this is the first time,
a hundred bar from a train.

Now, this is what we're worried about.

We're going over a
point, and suddenly, I think

I'll fit a sort of tsunami
in my bar from coming on.

But it's all right, so I'm about a few.

There we are, that's the
nature of South African trains.

Things to be built by
dreamers. Somebody thought,

what the hell, let's
have a bar from the train.

I've almost reached the end of
my travels through South Africa.

I've been exploring how its
railways tell the story of its people,

and on a railway line built
to get diamonds, but now

enjoyed by tourists, I'm
heading towards Cape Town.

The first European
settlers came to Cape Town,

and it was the Dutch
who set up a little farm.

They're simply to supply
ships with garden projects.

And then, as the British arrived, and
the British arrived after a series of wars,

the Dutch farmers spread further
into the interior to get away from.

Pushing out the black
Africans who lived there already.

It's a sobering thought that
such a beautiful landscape

could harbour such a
dark and turbulent history.

Just over there, that's the great blue
misty, snare above table mountain.

The only city of the world has gone
such a identifiable natural monument.

Tell you exactly where you are.

Cape Town.

Seven hours after I
boarded this luxurious

illusion of the perfect golden age of
travel, I come back to earth with a bump.

Stepping into a dimly lit
underground platform in the city.

But just above me, it's
rather more picturesque.

This is South Africa's
biggest city, and this is

one of the continents,
most recognisable views.

There's the railway
station over there, nearly

700 trains a day in and
out of Cape Town now.

But the first train didn't
arrive here till quite late in

the railway age, around 1860,
and they almost disappeared.

Because after two years, they'd
only built two kilometres of line.

They had to wait until those
diamonds made them get to work.

But I'm not staying to
explore, because there's

one more railway excursion
that I have to make.

It'll be the very last train of
my journeys through Africa.

It's a little less grand
than the previous

one, but at least it's
a real working train,

used by ordinary South
Africans every day.

This is just a little addition now.

Just a final train ride to take me as
far south as the railway would allow.

It's going to transport
me from Cape Town to

the little coastal
settlement of Simon's Town.

I don't think it's
anything that's peaceful.

At least for the city on
a suburban train and

peering into people's
private back gardens.

With past bony and
greens, rugby pitches,

little cemeteries, lots
and lots of bungalows.

This is the Wimbledonisation of Africa.

Simon's Town is a surface paradise.

It's also the most southerly
passenger station in Africa.

I'm at the very tip of the
African continent, Cape Point.

I've come as far as I can
come by South African Rail,

which means I've come as
far as I can by African Rail.

This is my grand southerly terminus.

I've travelled a total of some 7,000 miles.

And I found that Africa's railways
tell the story of colonial Africa.

They were great feats of engineering.

The vast majority built by
Europeans for their own English.

The railways created
colonies, allowed resources

to be plundered, even
controlled African people.

But Africa has taken its railways back.

The ones still found
to be useful at any rate.

And they might not always be
the easiest way to get around,

but as I steamed, chunted and
clackety-clanked through this

vast continent, I discovered
that they create connections.

I've met some extraordinary people.

Oh, wonderful, mate. I like the winter.

I've got up close to Africa's wildlife.

And I've seen some of the
world's most stupidest scenery.

What an experience.

What a journey.

What a continent.

I wish I had a return ticket.

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