HomeBru Nationals 2019

It’s the 2018 Open Nationals final and HomeBru is lining up against the defending champions. In the pool stages, the Long Donkeys defeated us handsomely but this time, we felt we had adjusted and had the tactical nuance to challenge them for the title. But the men from Pietermaritzburg, a humble town in eastern South Africa, are ruthless. Almost every turn generated by their suffocating zone results in a deep shot they chase down. The Donkeys run away with the match while many of us look at our bootlaces on the sideline. Next year, we say, next year…

Our 2019 season starts ten weeks before the first pull of Open Nationals and has a solitary but significant goal: To beat the Donkeys. Their only loss in the Open division came six years prior, when Chili from Cape Town beat them in the final. Since, the Donkeys has had a stranglehold on the open division (and mixed, but that’s another story) in South Africa.

Over the course of our first training sessions, we are introduced to a strategy developed by the HomeBru Brains Trust to break their legendary zone and we drill to be much tighter on man-defence. The Yellow Submarine – as we had become known due to our yellow kit – has training twice a week, excluding a League match on Monday nights and the leadership threw in three full training weekends as we continued to sharpen our skills.

For Open Nationals, Homebru benefited personnel wise with some additions from the University of Cape Town who did not send a team following an admin slip-up, a harsh reminder that ultimate isn’t just played on the field. Complete with our new additions, our 17-strong squad descended upon the green pastures of the KwaZulu-Natal midlands primed and ready for the task at hand.

We proved we deserved our favourites tag on the opening day, comfortably putting away our opposition with clinical offence and throwing the odd zone. The closest scoreline was 15-10, but HomeBru was yet to hit top gear. Meanwhile, the Donkeys were as lethal as ever, crushing some teams 15-1 as they cruised into the final four.

HomeBru’s Sunday started with an 8am pull for the semi-final against an athletic Maties outfit who had given us trouble in League. Unfortunately for them, we would handle the prevailing gusty wind with more experience, patiently picking apart their flat zone to eventually go two breaks up. Now chasing the game, Maties turned to their hucking game, literally throwing caution to the wind, which gobbled up many attempts. Our best performance yet earned us a 12-6 victory and a chance to fulfill our destiny against the Donkeys in the final.

Whatever the weather, the Donkeys are a zone defence team. The former basketballers use their wingspan in a flat zone while their other athletes hunt down any deep threats. Sure enough, this was deployed in the opening points in the final. However, after HomeBru showed we had the patience to break the zone, they had to adapt. Up until that first half, the Donkeys hadn’t played a point of man defence all tournament and with their adjustment to man marking, we knew we had sufficiently rattled them. We even had the crowd in our favour despite the tournament being in the Donkeys’ neck of the woods.

But it was not enough.

The Donkeys’ man defence began to earn the turns they needed and they came out on top in a number of long points as the game began to get loose, desperation appearing across many faces. With cap beckoning, they were 12-10 up with HomeBru on offence. A sliding endzone shot was chased down in vain, the disc just centimeters out of reach from a laying out HomeBru cutter. The Donkeys worked their way back up the field and eked out the key score to make it 13-10, game to 14.

A layout block in the midfield effectively ended Homebru’s hopes and a final flick into the endzone saw the Donkeys dash our dreams and retain their title.

When you work so hard for something that doesn’t go your way, the loss is real. For months we had pursued this goal, our one-track mindset fueling us during training, motivating us in the gym and pumping us up for the tournament. Now there was no next session, no more drills, no more grinding, no more victories.

There was much emotion in the post-match huddle, which was only turned up to 11 when one of our players told us that his father had passed away that morning. He had taken the difficult and admirable decision to deal with it alone rather than change the focus of the day. We immediately circled around him in a group hug of condolence, sunscreen, dirt, sweat and tears.

Despite not achieving our goal, there was something special that happened to HomeBru this year. The Open division is still developing at the tip of Africa but we have established a strong club identity over the last few seasons and more importantly, a camaraderie that leaves us counting the days until the next season.

The Yellow Submarine will resurface in 2020 and I cannot wait.

Three days with the sweet people of Watamu

The realisation of a beach holiday did much to dissipate the Post-Tournament Depression that descends upon so many ultimate players.

Our smiling trio, dubbed Team Beach, boarded a not-so-small twin prop plane that sent us east from Nairobi towards the warm waters of the Indian ocean.

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Team beach

A post shared by Doug (@dugiwe) on Jun 8, 2017 at 10:00am PDT

On the plane, I sat next to a guy who said he worked for the airline. Odd, considering all the selfies he was taking and snaps of the fields through the clouds. Nonetheless, I asked him for advice on transport to Watamu from Malindi. He said he would sort me out when we landed.

Sure enough, he made some phone calls and a Helen would pick us up outside. Now words such as ‘big’ or ‘vast’ are not ones you use to describe Malindi International Airport. It took us all of four minutes to disembark, grab our luggage and walk a few metres to the exit. But when we walked outside, there was a beaming Helen with my name scribbled on a piece of foolscap, the ink barely dry.

Our hosts at Paki House were great. Our smiling trio enjoyed a warm welcome in more ways than one, despite being in the dead of winter. The humid air forced us to get into beach gear pretty quickly. Second on the agenda was water, as you can’t drink what comes out the tap.

A short shopping trip by foot with our host Enoch resulted in an ATM visit, 12 litres of water from an Indian shop and some fruit from a local store. Upon return, Enoch whipped up some absolutely delicious mango smoothies with what I had just bought and we were pretty smitten sitting on the breezy porch overlooking the pool.

Watamu is Swahili and translates to ‘sweet people’, which is quite true in reality. However, Watamu and surrounds are also known as Little Italy, given the number of Italians still living there. For the most part, these are the leftovers of colonialism, as East Africa was split up amongst the British, Germans and Italians in the late 1800s.

As such, there is a touch of Italian flavour in some of the architecture, names of resorts and of course, food. And it was at one of the many Italian restaurants where we found ourselves having lunch. The fish, Italian ice cream and local beer were all delicious, but the unfriendly owner was far from it. Tipping is not customary in these small towns and our confused waiter took his dilemma to the spectacled owner who pocketed the cash and said “Thanks…”

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James on our red chariot for the day

A post shared by Doug (@dugiwe) on Jun 7, 2017 at 6:12am PDT

But that turned out to be somewhat of a blessing in disguise as it forced us to look for other options for meals. Sensing this, our other host Donald mentioned they could cook for us for a small fee and offered to take us shopping. So it was off to the beach to find the catch of the day.

After walking past a 200+ kg blue marlin alone in the back of a tuk-tuk, we found a fresh snapper and went into town with the fisherman and his posse to get it weighed. Our trek took us through old-town Watamu, with dusty streets and small colourful homes punctuated by friendly residents taking advantage of the final rays of sun.

In the fish shop, a feast was set at the table with men circling…it made for an intersting scene. We paid for the 3kg fish as the call for prayer rolled through the streets. Of course, I thought aloud. It was Ramadan and Watamu’s large Swahili-Muslim community had been fasting for the day. Some pounced on the food while one kind man invited us to eat with them. We pointed to the fish, said our goodbyes and grabbed the rest of the ingredients on the way back to Paki House.

Enoch, Donald and Patience prepared us a mouthwatering snapper dish with a light tomato and garlic sauce served with basmati rice. It was outstanding and we took some solace in the fact that this time, our tip would reach the right pockets. Aside from eating like Kings and Queens, of course.

Easing our way into the tuk-tuk life, we went to the Gedi Ruins the following day. Here, we found the ruins of a 12th century Islamic community, complete with a Great Mosque. It should come as no surprise that the port city of Mombasa just 100km south of Watamu has the highest concentration of Muslims in Kenya.

The site had old stone walls covered in rich green moss, aided by the relative shade of the forest canopy above us. Some of the trees looked just as old, with one growing on top of a wall with it’s roots drilling down into the ground, virtually keeping the wall in place. The place oozed both history and mystery.

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This tree found its way back to the soil

A post shared by Doug (@dugiwe) on Jun 7, 2017 at 6:20am PDT

Such was the area’s ties to Europe, that the Portuguese attempts at monopolising trade would lead to the abandonment of the growing town, which held an estimated 2500 inhabitants at it’s peak. Well that, and the frequent raids from the cannibalistic Wazimba tribe in the 1500’s. It must have been a rough place to live.

On a noticeboard outside the town’s second general supermarket, we had seen an advert for sunset yoga at a place called the Treehouse. This place had an incredible view, a view I was looking forward to after the tuk-tuk had to change to the lowest gear to get up the windy road through the bush.

We did yoga in a circle at the top of the Gaudi-styled white building with a 360 degree view of the ocean and the palm-tree-littered inland. As we breathed out and did our Namaste’s, our Cape Town-taught yoga instructor Morris said, “…and now you can watch the sunset.”

On cue, the big red ball hit the horizon and as the palm fronds swayed in the sea breeze. We realised this wasn’t Morris’ first rodeo.

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Yoga with a view

A post shared by Doug (@dugiwe) on Jun 8, 2017 at 10:07am PDT

After an evening eating the rest of the fish – this time made into a coconut curry – and drinking too much beer, it was time for snorkeling. It was here where we met most of the other tourists in the town, also taking advantage of the calm day.

Our boat, named Millennium, picked us up and we putted close to the white shoreline. Once stopped a few hundred meters out, the crystal clear water surface was just two or so metres about the reef, meaning we had little work to do to see the wonders of the ocean.

While the fish were beautiful and plentiful, the coral was not. Coral bleaching is an issue on the Kenyan coast and perhaps one in every 60 coral – and there sure were thousands – we saw was vibrant and healthy. At the end, the boat driver tossed some bread crumbs in the water, causing a fish frenzy all around us like an overpopulated fish tank.

The trusty Millennium Falcon dropped us off at the beach and we decided to take a stroll to town to get some lunch. And here is how we learned why it was off-season in Watamu.

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Our Millenium Falcon

A post shared by Doug (@dugiwe) on Jun 8, 2017 at 10:02am PDT

The constant onshore winds bring with them tonnes and tonnes of seaweed which builds up on the beach and dries out. It doesn’t smell or anything, but some places there isn’t a towel-sized space of white sand.

Because of it’s status as a protected marine reserve, local government is not allowed to move the seaweed and residents must wait for the wind to change direction and with the aid of the tide, nature will take it all back. This was strange, given the diggers driving on the sand doing construction on a fancy resort right next to the seaweed. Clearly, the rules can be broken.

That was Watamu Bay, which is considered the main beach. But there are many small bays along the picturesque coastline within walking distance of each other and many don’t get the Harbinger of Seaweed breeze. This is where we spent our time.

We should have learn’t our lesson the first time about it being off-season. In town, a local said he would walk us to where we wanted to go, another Italian restaurant that had been suggested to us. Papa Remo. Our man Bekker was friendly enough and took us through the old town again and back onto the beach, telling us it was a shortcut. This was another subtle clue we missed. A short cut for a man who walks seven kilometres everyday and has no job is not really a shortcut.

After some stunning scenery, we arrived at a beachhead where the tide was high, blocking our path to the next bay, where Bekker assured us the restaurant was, even though it looked pretty remote. If we timed it between the waves, it would be over waist high at best. This was a no go.

So much to Bekker’s disappointment, we had to go back to the road, the long way around. We had walked for over an hour on this shortcut in the midday sun after an early start and moods soured even more when we found Papa Remo’s to be closed. Not just the restaurant, but the entire resort was a ghost town behind a thick set rusty chained gate. I’d be lying if I said there was no swearing.

Bikes are taxis in Kenya, and one pulled up to see four sweaty strangers standing under a small tree. Bekker sent him to town, since we had marched beyond the outskirts, to get a tuk-tuk for us.

Hunger and anger had become one as we arrived at a different Italian restaurant – about 100m from where we met Bekker – and sent him on his way with a small tip he arguably didn’t deserve. We feasted on more superb seafood and ice cream, which quickly drowned that memory, before heading back to Paki House for a much needed rest.

With throwing arms starting to itch, our final afternoon was spent throwing on the beach as the sun went down behind the palms, silhouetting the coconut pickers who were scampering up the palms with nothing but their hands and feet. Boats were coming in with the day’s catch to waiting crowds, with the smallest helpers been given the biggest things to carry.

We had gone full circle, as we were in the same bay we bought the snapper on the first night. Only this time, we were doing our best to take it all in, because we didn’t really want to leave that stunning place.

Hakuna Matata, Watamu.

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Afternoon crowds welcomimg the days catch

A post shared by Doug (@dugiwe) on Jun 8, 2017 at 10:09am PDT

• Watamu

From a Bunny’s Perspective – A Rocktober Review

I am fortunate to be a part an Ultimate Frisbee team. I love my team like brothers and sisters. Here is a review on a tournament we recently attended.

“I have a wedding to go to”. And that was it, we did not have enough girls to go to the tournament. 10 guys were left standing at the altar. But then a message of hope came from afar: Two lovely ladies were looking for team to join, and the Prawn Bunnies snapped them up. Rocktober was a GO!

Saturday

Our first game was against a fit and fast Maties. We had heard that they had upped their training regime and it certainly showed on the field. We traded points and ended up on 7 each at soft cap. Despite the lack of wind, the brains trust decided to throw a cup and it came off very well, leaving the Maties handlers with few options. We took the next 2 points without a sweat and won the game 9-7.

Our second game was a much tougher assignment as we faced former winners Ghost. With some slick offence and a couple great skies, we found ourselves 3-1 up. Despite the early lead, Ghost’s heavy hitters remained on the side-line. They eventually brought it back to 4 a piece with patient disc. Ghost’s zone defence cramped up our handlers and they established a lead we could not surpass. While the final score-line was 10-6, we felt we had done ourselves proud.

The heat of the Highveld was at its worst for our third game of the day against UCT. With the temperature in the low 30’s, both teams toiled hard for points. Our leaky man defence was eventually put to the sword and the youngsters raced away to a 13-4 victory. Mentally, we were just not in that game.

Our final game saw us take on the newly formed Wits team. The bye and the much cooler afternoon air left us feeling refreshed, and it showed on the field. The inexperienced Wits handlers could not deal with our cup defence and we forced turnover after turnover, racing to an 11-0 lead. Eventually, some miscommunication and fast offence from Wits lead to their only point much to the joy of the Wits side line. Final score: 13-1.

Sunday

A much appreciated bye made sure we were well rested before we faced a spirited and fast Mozambique outfit. We exchanged points early on, but our cup defence started to expose Mozambique’s lack of handlers and the turnovers began to rack up. We finished strong with some great hucks leading to a 10-5 final score.

Next up were the Golden Oldies. This team had more experience than Jake Whites World Cup winning side and quality all over the field. We were nervous. Thankfully, the wind was starting to pick up which played into the hands of our cup. Initially, they worked our cup around effortlessly using 4 handlers and the odd popper. They made it look so easy. But yet again, our stoic cup began to force sketchy throws which saw us score a couple upwind points. We lead into soft cap where there was a much disputed time out call by a Bunny which left the side line outraged, but it was within the rules. We scored that point and never looked back. We beat the grizzly oldies 11-6.

In our final game of the tournament, we faced a much improved Polokwane outfit in the 5^th/6^th place playoff. Three years ago they had one player who kind of knew the rules and a lot of cutters chasing errand throws. But this year, they meant business. It seemed we were always chasing the game, with tons of accurate hammers turning our cup around and leading to easy scores. Our tired legs lead to an over reliance on our long game which was nevertheless keeping us in touch on the scoreboard. Hardcap was reached and we played universal point where we pulled to them and set up our cup one last time. Patient disc saw Polokwane eke out a memorable 11-10 win with, you guessed it, a hammer into the endzone.

In Sum

Considering  The Prawn Bunnies were already down on personnel even before they suffered early injuries to important players, we did ourselves proud. I am sure there would have been many questioning our stunning 6^th place finish at Nationals in April. This performance has backed it up and we will continue our upward trend.

There are a few players who deserve a special mention. Cathy Pineo unfortunately tore a ligament in the very first game, but she made herself part of the team and was a constant source of support. The rest of our girls, Amy Bray, Joy Waddle and Ella Alcock ran their hearts out and were still smiling at the end of the day. Hats off to you ladies, you were superb. Finally, congratulations to Jarrod Banks and Amy Bray on winning MVP Male & Female of the Tournament respectively. Which this space: There is much more to come from the Prawn Bunnies.