West Indian supporters have been few and far between in New Zealand, but in the shade on the Hamilton boundary one recalls his years of following the team

Andrew McGlashan

20-Dec-2013

Being a West Indies supporter these days tests patience and faith. One moment they are offering the teasing prospect of improvement, the next they are crashing to a three-day innings defeat.

There are plenty of fans, though, who don't give up. Two of them were sat under shady tree at Seddon Park, offering plenty of advice to Darren Sammy. Ray Walters and Trevor Williams have travelled from London and have been at all three Tests alongside Brenda Boyce, the widow of former West Indies fast bowler Keith Boyce who has come across from Barbados.

They have a West Indies flag draped over their legs. They have become something of minor celebrities in Hamilton. West Indies supporters have been few and far between at the grounds for this series. It's a heck of a long way to come. There's a lone Jamaican flag on the other side of the ground and Trevor points out the Trinidad colours as well. They are excited to hear that Franklyn Rose was at the ground. "I have a message to pass onto him," Trevor says curiously, "but I'll have to do it myself."

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Walking through history at Tolstoy Farm

Once a crucible for Mahatma Gandhi's philosophies of community living and civil disobedience, Tolstoy Farm is now a desolate place a few kilometres away from the suburb of Lenasia

Sidharth Monga

17-Dec-2013

Around noon on Sunday, Nelson Mandela's body was lowered into his grave. Around noon on Sunday, in spirit, you find yourself in the company of another inspirational man in this country. About seven kilometres from the Indian settlement of Lenasia, through a gravel road not many can navigate, there is a boundary wall erected around what looks like wasteland. Only when you approach it do you see a giant inscription that says "Gandhi" on a big hill overlooking this land. You are headed towards Tolstoy Farm, where Mahatma Gandhi lived on and off with his fellow protestors for about four years in the early 1900s.

It is a peaceful plot of land. There is no mobile signal here. The hills surrounding the farm are green. However, the farm, as history knew it, is no more. Although a humble structure at the best of times - a shed and four dilapidated rooms - there is nothing left of it now. A brick company, which owned the land, has given it up, but it is difficult to look after the farm, given how far it is from the surrounding urban areas.

About 42 kilometres from Johannesburg, and two kilometres from Lawley train station, Tolstoy Farm is now just a piece of land demarcated from the area around it by a three-foot-high wall. There is no large board outside, no milestones on the way, no trail marks - nothing to suggest this narrow, unpaved lane will take you to a place of such historic importance. Mohan Hira, a 74-year-old Gandhian who looks 55, a former karate practitioner and now a coach, and a local leader in Lenasia, knows the way well. He was the one who gathered people in 2010 to carry those white stones up the hill and inscribe 'Gandhi' there. The stones need a new coat of paint now. He comes here often to ensure that the wall has not been brought down by riff-raffs. He has done Gandhi-style walks from Johannesburg to Natal for charity.

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A tent against the torrent

With a state-of-the-art drainage system, a 12-foot-high tent protecting the pitch and groundsmen working hard day and night, Supersport Park in Centurion has all the resources at its disposal to negotiate a rain threat

Sidharth Monga in Centurion

11-Dec-2013

Empty cricket grounds are wonderful places to be in, especially a day before a big match. When the seats are being cleaned for magic to be made the next day. When the mind is free to relive past deeds of enchantment, of heroism, of guile, of close matches. When electricity flows through the stands and empty grass stands. When you can imagine future scenarios. When you can watch some of the most unsung heroes of cricket going about their work.

It has been raining persistently since last evening in Centurion, it is cold and miserable, but there are men in trenchcoats and gumboots trying to erect a temporary structure over the covered pitch. Different groundsmen over the world have come up with different home-grown methods to fight weather. Sri Lankan groundsmen cover the whole field when it rains. Inmates in the nearby prisons are employed to do the work. The groundsmen get labour and the inmates fresh air to breathe. Some in Australian grounds know their weather so well they rush out onto the field even before it starts raining. Some players leave flummoxed, but soon realise - as massive rain falls - a lot of time has been saved by this proactive covering of the field. Some Indian grounds have used helicopters to dry the surface. Glue was once used to keep powdery surfaces together in India.

Here in Centurion, you have the tent erected over the pitch. It is a master move for days like this when the showers are not short and sharp, but persistent and slow. The excellent drainage takes care of the outfield, but such rain doesn't give you time to prepare the pitch, the rolling, shaving and what-have-you. The metal structure takes about an hour to erect, after which the groundstaff pulls over one of the ground covers over it to make the tent. They don't use professional ready-made tents because they can't take so much rain.

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A night of celebrating Mandela

Taking in the scenes outside Nelson Mandela's house in Houghton in Johannesburg, on the night he died

Sidharth Monga

06-Dec-2013

I have spent all of about 50 days in South Africa in my life. A month and a half in 2010-11, and not even a week, so far, this time round. I didn't know what to make of my being here, a 10-minute drive from Nelson Mandela's house in Houghton, when he died. This goodbye had been a freight train coming, but how do you prepare for the departure of arguably the most-loved man in the world? There was no precedent of such a big loss in my lifetime. What do you draw reference to? Is it like being a non-Indian in India when Gandhi died?

I will admit that one of my immediate concerns was what would happen to the cricket tour, because I didn't want to leave this country so soon. However, cricket, an old-fashioned thrashing of India by South Africa hours ago, felt insignificant. The man responsible for bringing this great sporting country back on to international stage was no more.

Mandela actually died at 8.50pm on Thursday, when the cricket was still on, with South Africa applying the final touches to the pasting, but the announcement was made three hours later. The nation stopped. The music stopped in the bars as they switched to the television. For five minutes, I tried to make sense of this, but realised I had to go to Houghton in order to do so. Surely I couldn't go to sleep now?

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Small crowd creates big atmosphere

More than 4000 people attended the Abu Dhabi Test on each day, adding much-needed colour in the sterile setting

Firdose Moonda

18-Oct-2013

Dancing, drum beats and die-hard fans are commonplace at most sports events, but I was warned to expect none of that in the desert. A society built on the need to make a tax-free income and stadiums situated far away from city centres or any other signs of life were listed among the reasons the players voices would be audible to journalists.

In reality, the media could hear very little. An insulated press box, five floors high and sealed behind glass windows, meant keeping an eye on the game was like observing something through a fish-tank. It was only when the crowd came in, that sound became part of the experience.

The Abu Dhabi Test was played over Eid but I can't be certain that was the only reason supporters turned up. When they did, they brought their full enthusiasm with them, playing music from the sidelines and providing the familiar claps and cheers that can serve as commentary for those moments when your eyes are on the computer screen.

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Working in the dark

A powercut in Harare left most parts of the city without electricity, forcing our correspondent to search for a plug point and an internet connection

Firdose Moonda

11-Sep-2013

The postcard version of an African morning is sunlight and still. Light seeps through the trees, the rustle of leaves and a bird's song are the only sounds and at some point the smell of strong coffee fills the air.

In reality, unless you've paid for a stay at expensive beachside or bush lodge, that is not the case. Cellphone alarms ring, people yell, cars go past, hooters are pushed - always for too long - and unless your window faces north-east, you're likely to need to turn the light on when you rise because the sun's rays won't be filling the room just yet.

When I ventured towards the switch this morning, nothing came on. I thought little of it and even less of the odd quiet which in hindsight, was unusual. I didn't have to because a few seconds later, the whirring of a generator grew louder and the lights came on.

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How yoga healed Bryan Strang

With more and more cases of depression in cricket, Firdose Moonda catches up with Bryan Strang, who had to deal with his own problems, and found a way to overcome them

Firdose Moonda

08-Sep-2013

"I used to feel completely at peace when I was bowling because there was no past and no future. There was only the present. Cricket is a form of yoga actually and that's what these guys don't realise. When they stop playing they have to continue doing yoga in some form."

The thought of Brendan Taylor or Hamilton Masakadza sitting cross legged, hands joined together, eyes closed and mind clear made both Bryan Strang and I giggle after he concluded his assessment on the healing powers of cricket. "You can't see them doing it, can you?" he asked me. I shook my head. So did he.

"Neither can I. That's why when these guys finish playing some of them don't know what to do... life can be empty."

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The experience of arriving in Zimbabwe again

One of the excitements of touring Zimbabwe occurs long before one arrives in the country. Getting there is an experience on its own

Firdose Moonda

03-Sep-2013

One of the excitements of touring Zimbabwe occurs long before one arrives in the country. Getting there is an experience on its own. While Harare is as much a capital city as London or Mumbai, it cannot be reached as seamlessly, even from right next door.

Most Zimbabweans who travel between South Africa and their home do so on the road. The queue at the Beit Bridge border can snake for kilometers, and having ticked if off my list during a long bus journey to Bulawayo two years ago, I decided I'd prefer not to go that route again.