Pole dancing in the Northern Cape
My first Northern Captonian wedding, this Saturday 25th April at 4.30.
BRIDE? the last child to be married, of prominent local family… major landowners /farmers/ entrepreneurs, who have commanded our presence.
OUTLOOK..For it to be “the wedding of all weddings”.
STYLE.word on grape vine is ‘fairytale’.
Having never attended a Northern Capetonian wedding, I have no idea of “the form” on any level, and there is absolutely no sense in asking Bossy, as these things simply don’t register for him.
So, after short consideration, I made a decision of what NOT to wear:
No hat, no frock, no painted nails [either hand or toe],
No bling and no BIG hair ,as it never stays big enough for long enough, so no huge amounts of coiffing and certainly no hair spray.
I opted for very understated, black trousers and khaki [coloured] silk tunic…enlivened with silver jewelry, including the beautiful venetian glass heart with pearl pendant that Jane gave me, and a stonking pair of shoes that Jane also, encouraged me to buy in Oxford, last year. I have had only one occasion to wear them thus far, and they sit in the dressing room, beckoning me to pet them…Yikes!..I`m turning into Moses!
When they were tried on with the outfit …and worked!....Air punching [learned behavior from Little] took place in the privacy of the bathroom.
So, my chosen look for this” wedding of weddings”, will be minimalist.
The shoes make me so tall, that I even outstretch Bossy…which tickles me, and will put a spring in my step, and gird me for what I’m sure will be plenty of “interaction” with the combined forces of both Kak & UP wives……Joy of joys.
Thank goodness Both Marica and Magda will be attending.
*Note to self…..ON NO ACCOUNT TRIP OVER!*
Bossy and I missed the “Kirk” bit… we knew there would be around 250 guests, and the church holds a max 150,and there were far more people interested in attending that part , so we happily relinquished our places.
Moving Straight onto the Reception
An army, of around 200 friends and associates, of the bride & groom…..and as importantly, of their mothers and fathers.
A central core of around 50 cherished family members….including ancient grannies and grandpas, who were respectfully wheeled to the outer edges of the hall, to avoid being accidentally dragged onto the dance floor ,by over exuberant dancers,[and there were many], and whose deaf aids would not scream in competition with the best mans and the Grooms speech, which took place in the centre of the dance floor, in front of an exceptionaly high rise “top table”, that I thought on entry, was an alter!
The venue was “our English” equivalent of a large village hall, chosen, I imagine, on account of its cavernous space and most definitely not for its architectural beauty!.
At the main entrance and exit huge tents had been erected, one offering ready prepared “cocktails” in every colour of the rainbow, to arriving guests, along with all kinds of unusual nibbles ,the other providing overflow seating.
I was handed a turquoise cocktail in a martini glass, which tasted like a non iced slush puppy, mercifully not loaded with alcohol, but definitely with plenty adrenalin producing chemicals. Bossy was handed a radioactive green cocktail, and whilst these cocktails seemed to go down very well with all the other guests, Bossy and I struggled to navigate the fruits that had been impaled on the rim ,and then to swallow the concoctions contained therein. Taking a few polite sips and then discreetly losing them.
Some clever souls had decked the main hall, out [ceiling and walls] in meters and meters of white gauzy fabric with maroon coloured accents, so that it resembled the interior of a marquee…….. and it did!!!
Huge amounts of twinkly lights, plenty of greenery and some stunning raised flower displays, using fresh and very exotic south African flowers, really gave the feeling of a tented hall…quite fairytale like. The girlies of the wedding party were geared in chiffon, floaty dresses in shades of rust, and the bride was in white along with her bridesmaid’s. They all looked gorgeous. Lounge suits for the boys.[who mostly looked like they had put on a few pounds since they last wore them!]
The main area of the hall, has a wide [load bearing] column at its middle point, all the ceiling drapes were billowed upwards towards its centre ,and the column itself was twisted with roses and twinkly lights, and was to become a pivotal feature for the entire wedding.
The order of things is somewhat different to that of the English wedding, in that dancing was encouraged from the moment the Bride and Groom arrived [ app. an hour an half after the rest of the guests. as they had been having a photo shoot., the gusts seemed perfectly happy to drain the radioactive “cocktail supply” during their absence.]
By this time flocks of couples young and old, were so full of chemical that they were gagging for the music to begin, so that they could take to the dance floor. To “langarm” or “sokkie” as it is also known
Firstly, the polished cement floor was sprinkled liberally with grit, and then it began…initiated by Bride and Groom, who took to the floor, to the hysterical applause of all around, dancing” langarm”, to “their special song”. The moment the music skipped delicately onto the next tune,[which sounded remarkably like the first} the floor became flooded with dancers…all dancing “langarm”,and around and around the pole they spun,for song after song after song. Just to refresh your memories,The rhythm of this most stick-like of dances is strange. One arm is extended stiff and straight upwards towards the ceiling, usually the left for the male, the right for the female. Certain step configurations are met, such as in a waltz, but there is room for improvisation, and many couples are swept away in a free-flowing enjoyment that pays homage to the man leading and the woman following.
Having watched this for some time, I asked Magda if it was usual for people to dance only in an anti clockwise direction…she seemed taken aback, and then after a great deal of thought, said..”Yes, I`ve never really thought about it before, we always dance in this direction ,even when there is no pole to dance around.”
,
Many of the more seasoned dancers, had perfected a kind on “Non plussed look”, so that whilst they were being hurtled across the floor, caught in a circular tidal wave,. they could just as easily have been stuffing a chicken,or unblocking a sink…. if one were to guage the look on their faces. Thank the lord…..Some of the younger revelers did have animated faces, and they were performing, what Magda tells me, were quite avant guard “langarm” moves…but always spinning in the same direction. It was completely fascinating…many different styles of “langarm”, some far more adrenalized than others…but nevertheless, everyone was dancing the same dance…no matter what the music, and around they all went for hours, like the horses on a merry go round, girls and boys, husbands and wives, mothers and sons, fathers and daughters. aunties and nephews, in every possible familial combination, but always….always, in the same direction and many with a strange glaze in their eyes, that I have to put down to the cocktails!
Bossy and I [who very rarely dance], were having exactly the same thoughts, and couldn’t suppress our quiet deliberations, over what would happen if we decided to take to the floor…but in a clockwise direction. Having removed ourselves to the garden, for a fag break .Magda, who doesn’t smoke, but who had accompanied us to get some relief from the assault that our ear drums were taking from the folksy music,[but had brought her addiction with her..a large chocolate truffle ],counseled us against breaking the rules…particularly at some one else’s wedding, and made both Bossy and I feel like the school children we really are! So stubbing out our fags,we decided to return and hunt out the mother and father of the bride [who had invited us] in order to congratulate them.
Fatted cows and alters spring to mind.
We found them, sitting at the “top table”,[that I thought was the alter], watching the anticlockwise swell of the ocean of dancers waving at them from far below .
The father is a veritable giant of a man,[ a more clean shaven Hagrid] big everywhere, from his broad open face, to his thick muscular and very long arms, an extremely physical type, who shakes hands with an iron grip, and then claps the person he is greeting to his chest[ where inevitably their face becomes impaled in his ample chest hair, as he always wears an open shirt.]
He is a very genial guy, I have never seen him without a smile, and despite speaking almost no English…he always manages to make himself understood. On each of the two occasions that I have met him, he has reacted to me in exactly the same way, I had hoped that on the occasion of his daughters wedding he might spare me…but no…….
He placed his ample arms around me ,planted a stonker of a kiss on my lips, and lifted me up, off the floor and into the air, crushing me to his frame, my feet, [even in shockingly high shoes], were left flailing in the air, he then began to spin [anticlockwise of course!] and I joined the heady swell of partygoers beneath me, from an aerial position… It occurred to me,[as I was flying through the air], to wonder where he found the strength to lift me up, in the same way as a father would with a small child. [I`m hardly petite]…he smiled broadly up into my face [ I am not sure how I reacted at this point, because I was still in shock, had my arms pinned to my sides and was feeling very dizzy]…and then when, eventually, he let me down, and whilst I was drawing breath and re stabilizing my footing…he proceeded to slap me and rub me on the back and let out a deep.”AAAHHH” …. I suspected he might break out into “Fee Fi Foe Fum I smell the blood of an Englishwoman .But no….. He continued in broken English “I like…… big……. women…..good…. big …..Woman,”, I then had an the overwhelming sense that I was a Nguni about to go under the hammer.
This little ritual, caused Bossy the most hysterical amusement, and yes, he was standing convulsed with laughter tears glittering in his eyes,[as he has been on the past two occasions],those with us on the alter, were also full of mirth at the spectacle.
Father of the bride….tethered me firmly to his side, as if I was about to stampede out of his presence, and eulogized in Afrikaans on the benefits of “Lekker wiffies”.To whit all around him, [including Bossy!] concurred in Afrikaans.
I am., as always ….with this gentleman…completely at a loss…I have no idea how to deal with him, he is a very kind man…a real “ family man”, he is generous and good hearted, his actions are not the result of too much alcohol,. simply the actions of someone who operates on diametrically opposite social indices to my own. This man, is the most extreme example of how Northern Captonian men behave. Yes, on my scale of social behavior ….. chauvinistic and a touch too forward for someone I don’t consider a close friend, but any other form of behavior is utterly outside of his experience, clearly he believes that physical expressions of lets say “affection” are to be encouraged, and it seems everyone around him agrees. I shall just have to find some way of handling this man…and I don’t think I’m physically capable of giving him a taste of his own medicine!
Once released ,we took up our seats for supper, I sporadically kept an eye on “ father of the bride”, from the safe distance of our table ,in the farthest depths of the marquee, I. noticed that he was very physical with all he greeted…but none were treated [male or female] to the “airlift”.
As the entire event was taken up with so much dancing, I had no contact with The KAK/UP wives who actually seemed pretty thin on the ground on this occasion, and I spent much of the afternoon & evening in very congenial company.
Quite apart from the “flying incident”. Which found Bossy still giggling, on our way home!!!.The wedding was a very happy occasion, much “langarm” around the maypole [anti clockwise], much late eating, a banquet of meats fit for a king, & so stacked with protein,it would make a dietician weep. A great deal of imbibing of alcoholic beverages. Whilst it wasn’t grand in the “Royal” sense, nor “Bling” in the Beckham sense, it WAS fairytale…..in the “Grimms” sense.
I very regretfully,forgot my camera!!!!!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Bossy looking moody
Me: being more than moody!..... in response to demands for photos of us ...best I can do!!
There are many many more, but you get the picture.
Gerrit and Marica have a herd of Nguni,[I think around 60 beasts] ,I have been lucky enough to find them on a couple of occasions , as they roam the farm land quite freely, often paying a visit to the guests, in the four chalets that are set in the game park at the end of the lake. This is where I took these pictures.
Also some rather random pictures of the departure of some visitors from UP, who arrived at the lake on Easter Monday, in a helicopter. Rather flash don’t you think....but you can see the guest house through the helicopter image.
Fruits of the farm
I have begun to measure up the back garden, in order to plot it on graph paper and begin to make some sense of it and decisions about its long term layout. There is currently a rickety chicken wire fence that stands about 7 meters beyond the end of the pool and the braii room, this fence stretches out, either side for around 150 meters and then drops at right angles away from the house and down a small incline,for another 100 meters, with a similarly rickety fence running parallel beyond, forming a small craal, directly behind the rear outlook of the farm…the craal, has an old cement watering hole, and the entire space is currently used by Moses when he wants to contain his chickens. Bossy has long term visions of stocking this area, with a few Springbok., but in order to do this we need to carefully reconsider the entire fencing arrangement. I have a feeling that the rather bare crall,which is mostly rock face, will have to be covered in top soil and planted with grass seed ,if we are to get Bokkies to graze happily …another task for the “To do list”.
The back garden is currently the thin stretch of sand that lies between the edge of the pool,and beyond, to the boundary of the craal fence.
Far beyond the house, but within this “back garden” are four or five uncared for orange trees [I didn’t realize that orange trees had thorns….. and they do, very spiteful ones about 2 inches long!]. As I was measuring yesterday, I realized that oranges were ready for the picking and collected a basket full of them…with intention of squeezing them, and freezing the juice. Having been left to grow semi wild, they are all gnarly and not very tempting to eat…so this year they will be juiced….when they have finished fruiting, I have the promise of some expert pruning help, so maybe this time next year, we will have some large ,edible oranges.
Not oranges..but neverthe less "Fruits"...from our randon rock collecting around the farm!
Anyway…back to the garden. Stretching out from these citrus trees to the craal fence is a portion of good unused ground, the builders tended to use this as their dumping ground…this is where I plan my raised vegetable beds…four of them to start with. We have a great deal of work to do here before we can even consider planting. Hence the layout, to see exactly how the land relates to the house.
To my great surprise the development of my seeds is giving me the most immense pleasure…Taz, your peppers have finally germinated and the entire herb garden, begins to look as though something is happening…..Moses, is very amused at how dedicated I am to it…standing for periods just inspecting the growth of my seedlings….he smiles and sais “Its alrrrright Missus” [with that curious rolling “R” that they do here], then I realize that I have been looking for rather a long time at them, and slope off feeling a tad embarrassed.
Vestiges of my days at Klinkenberg UK Ltd and the delights of HM revenue & Customs.
For the past few days I have been trying to pin down the report and accounts for Klink UK..no mean feat since its being done from afar now. Our UK accountants and Companies house for that matter, just cannot grasp the fact that we are now in the middle of the desert and have NO access to FEDEX or DHL in order to get urgent signed docs back to the UK. They guffawed, when I explained that the requested documentation was being handed to one of our lorry drivers, who having trucked 20 tons of raisins to Cape Town harbour,[a 10 hour trip] ,would hand documents over to our freight forwarders, who would then use the services of FEDEX and send them onto the UK from Cape Town…..they commented that it sounded much like the “pony express”….They are right…all other forms of communication are up to the mark here…but to get original documents at speed …..Anywhere [even within SA] requires a little ingenuity.
On this note, I have to just mention something that has amazed me and restored a little faith in “the system”
In order to support Finn with his student loan, I agreed to be means tested by LEA. They had been chasing me for months in England without my being aware of it [our post gets collected for us by the lovely Tony & Inga, and I collect it when I am back in the UK].
Anyhow, the LEA, had become so understandably sick, of my lack of response, that they had simply stopped Finns loan [YIKES!] at Easter. Mercifully Finn was with me, when I opened the rather depressing group of letters from LEA…we both looked at each other and did synchronized screaming ……AGAIN!, then calmed down…not to be defeated, I made a note of what was required and contacted my Tax office on 14th April, someone there, noted my request, explained that it was not a problem, nor indeed was it a problem to send this document to South Africa. Yeaahhh right, was my inward response! And to expect a statement in due course. I sent a cautionary email to the LEA, explaining what I had done and asking them to “bear with me” for a period of 8 weeks.
Today the statement from HM Revenue & Customs in the UK, arrived on Bossy`s desk…only 9 days after my telephone conversation!!!! AMAZED OR WHAT! It has been scanned and emailed off to the LEA and I hope that Finn will be able to eat within a matter of days!!!!!!
Goodbye for now
Sending much love to all, very special Birthday thoughts for Dottie.And a big “Happy Birthday” to Hen.
Pam, I hope that you are gliding around, in a pristine new kitchen space.
Lots of love and wishes of strength to my sisters [painful anniversaries this month]. Jane….are your results out yet ?and Taz, I know it still hurts, but good news there is no lasting damage to your back!
Huge cuddles for Jelly who is now deep into revision mode ..and I know will be at the stage of drinking coffee whilst sitting half way up the stairs.5 more weeks’ darling.
To Tommy, well done for standing firm with your bosses and good luck with your surgeon!!!!!!!!
To Little, work hard and stay happy, and to Finn…well all I can say is…….happy eating!!!!! And good luck with the exams.
As always huge thanks for all the great emails and calls and letters, I really would be bereft without them. As for Skype ,I cant sing its praises highly enough...great to talk with "Family Hall"..lets hope our comms are better next time..same goes for Viki!!!!!
I do feel somewhat errant this month, for not being in such good contact with everyone, but hope I am forgiven ,as a result of having the house a little busier than usual.
Kisses on the Lips for everyone!!!!
DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
PS: Loops and Di, I emailed the lady from Cape Town uni…[despite trying very hard to make the missive unstalkerish]….. she HASN’T emailed me back!!!!!!
Fond Farewells to Finn
How sad Little and I were, to say “farewell” to Finn at Up`s tiny “International” airport, on Easter Monday. An altogether transformed young man from the one that arrived three weeks ago.Now sporting a serious tan and looking strong, fit.& healthy.He had told me, that his stay hadn’t really felt like being on holiday at all…. It had felt like being home. Apart from being a very poignant statement…..and one that still pulls on my heart strings. He was right, we simply slipped back into our established routines of teasing and fiesting, lounging and busying. The boys receiving slaps on the wrists for grabbing at sandwhiches, and my grateful thanks for clearing dishes,& it was all normal and joyous and rather comforting to know that regardless of where in the world you are, and under what circumstances, familial customs and ties hold firm.
Finn finally masters the art of "stand up" jet ski ing
How sad Little and I were, to say “farewell” to Finn at Up`s tiny “International” airport, on Easter Monday. An altogether transformed young man from the one that arrived three weeks ago.Now sporting a serious tan and looking strong, fit.& healthy.He had told me, that his stay hadn’t really felt like being on holiday at all…. It had felt like being home. Apart from being a very poignant statement…..and one that still pulls on my heart strings. He was right, we simply slipped back into our established routines of teasing and fiesting, lounging and busying. The boys receiving slaps on the wrists for grabbing at sandwhiches, and my grateful thanks for clearing dishes,& it was all normal and joyous and rather comforting to know that regardless of where in the world you are, and under what circumstances, familial customs and ties hold firm.
Finn finally masters the art of "stand up" jet ski ingThe Pied piper of Marchand AKA Moses. [Not sure if “pied” is the correct patterning term though]
“We” are now busy, managing our 4 hectares of vines; they have survived their first enthusiastic pruning, post harvest, and are now being fertilized and sprayed. A reasonably complex process, which involves tables of instructions on volume and types of fertilizer, to be mixed to water. For specific rows of vines, and in a very particular order. Once sprayed., piles of manure are spread around the roots.
Moses has taken on the task of the day to day running of the vines with great pride, and now spends much of his time in the “pump house”, swirling great vats of noxious concoctions, with a sturdy branch, whilst humming to himself in his deep and melodious native tongue. He looks like some kind of Shaman, humming and stirring, completely mesmerized by his work.
If he catches us watching him, he beams one of his smiles and shrieks “Hallo Missus”, waving with one of his vast hands and continuing to stir with the other, then carrying on with his humming, which bounces off the empty walls of the pump house, so that we can hear him all around the farm. .I get the feeling, that he is very pleased with this latest task.
Wherever Moses is, his presence is always given away, by the humming or his gentle deep rhythmical singing…a few days ago, unbeknownst to me, he decided to move his entire flock of chickens off the farm and into the campon, whilst fertilizer was being spread on the vines…apparently this fertilizer is not so good for the chickens, who are normally allowed to peck around to their hearts content during the day…
Whilst mooching outside a few days ago, I heard Moses` singing coming from somewhere deep inside the vines, eventually he strode around the corner of the vineyards, in full song, followed by a large flock of his chickens, I reckon about 50/60, they followed his every footstep, and seemed utterly transfixed by him…It really was quite a sight to behold…He broke the rhythm of his song, to flap an arm in our direction, and shout a buoyant “Mornin Missus”, [at which point most of the chickens, turned and looked in the dogs and my direction as well] then they all pottered onwards, following the chanting of their leader, over the brow of the hill, towards the campong and disappearing out of our sight ,Bongo Bee and I remained utterly static and completely lost for words.
I`m not sure how, but we have discovered that Moses has something of a passion for shoes…not in the Imelda Marcos sense!![ actually, I imagine, that given the opportunity, he may well get there, such is his interest] ,but he does delight in cleaning, repairing and renovating shoes…sitting in deep deliberation, with a large needle and waxed thread, poised in his hand. Moses takes his cobbling very seriously, insisting that all shoes are scrubbed to within an inch of their lives before he sets to work on them. He has re stitched Bossy`s favorite pair of suede moccasins, [that Bongo worked long and hard to unravel,] and all Little’s trainers are sparkling white again…I really don’t want to know how he achieves his results on trainers, but they are spectacular. It may re assure you to learn, that he receives ample recompense, for his shoe fetishism.
He really is a great guy…I have become extremely fond of him, and very often thank my lucky stars, that we have his upbeat, genial & humming company at the farm.
“We” are now busy, managing our 4 hectares of vines; they have survived their first enthusiastic pruning, post harvest, and are now being fertilized and sprayed. A reasonably complex process, which involves tables of instructions on volume and types of fertilizer, to be mixed to water. For specific rows of vines, and in a very particular order. Once sprayed., piles of manure are spread around the roots.
Moses has taken on the task of the day to day running of the vines with great pride, and now spends much of his time in the “pump house”, swirling great vats of noxious concoctions, with a sturdy branch, whilst humming to himself in his deep and melodious native tongue. He looks like some kind of Shaman, humming and stirring, completely mesmerized by his work.
If he catches us watching him, he beams one of his smiles and shrieks “Hallo Missus”, waving with one of his vast hands and continuing to stir with the other, then carrying on with his humming, which bounces off the empty walls of the pump house, so that we can hear him all around the farm. .I get the feeling, that he is very pleased with this latest task.
Wherever Moses is, his presence is always given away, by the humming or his gentle deep rhythmical singing…a few days ago, unbeknownst to me, he decided to move his entire flock of chickens off the farm and into the campon, whilst fertilizer was being spread on the vines…apparently this fertilizer is not so good for the chickens, who are normally allowed to peck around to their hearts content during the day…
Whilst mooching outside a few days ago, I heard Moses` singing coming from somewhere deep inside the vines, eventually he strode around the corner of the vineyards, in full song, followed by a large flock of his chickens, I reckon about 50/60, they followed his every footstep, and seemed utterly transfixed by him…It really was quite a sight to behold…He broke the rhythm of his song, to flap an arm in our direction, and shout a buoyant “Mornin Missus”, [at which point most of the chickens, turned and looked in the dogs and my direction as well] then they all pottered onwards, following the chanting of their leader, over the brow of the hill, towards the campong and disappearing out of our sight ,Bongo Bee and I remained utterly static and completely lost for words.
I`m not sure how, but we have discovered that Moses has something of a passion for shoes…not in the Imelda Marcos sense!![ actually, I imagine, that given the opportunity, he may well get there, such is his interest] ,but he does delight in cleaning, repairing and renovating shoes…sitting in deep deliberation, with a large needle and waxed thread, poised in his hand. Moses takes his cobbling very seriously, insisting that all shoes are scrubbed to within an inch of their lives before he sets to work on them. He has re stitched Bossy`s favorite pair of suede moccasins, [that Bongo worked long and hard to unravel,] and all Little’s trainers are sparkling white again…I really don’t want to know how he achieves his results on trainers, but they are spectacular. It may re assure you to learn, that he receives ample recompense, for his shoe fetishism.
He really is a great guy…I have become extremely fond of him, and very often thank my lucky stars, that we have his upbeat, genial & humming company at the farm.
Books , Beasts and The Decent into Hell.
Thanks Amanda!, I read Mudbound a great first novel and beautifully written. The setting of the story ie: wife removed from comforts of refined living, to a mudbound, cotton farm in the middle of no where, ……..rather close to the bone I think! Let’s hope that I don’t make the same choices as the wife!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!![Now you have to read it!]
I have several more books on the go, including, Homecoming by Bernhard Schlink, which I very appropriately, finished on our drive back to the farm, from Cape Town. Really enjoyed it…very thought provoking and a demanding read.
.
Poe’s: The fall of the house of Usher. Full of overly worked treacley passages, and the author’s obsessive interest in beauty and the bizarre. I keep forging on, on the premise that it may prove inspirational, but have a sneaking suspicion that I shall get irritated before I become inspired.
I found The Divine Comedy,[which I had promised myself I would read after “The Gargoyle” ] & which I had a sneaking suspicion I had on my book shelves. I was right, but its only Book 1:Dante`s decent into hell…I have started reading it, and find that much of the basic story and many of the characters are familiar to me, as a result of the content being referred to so often in other literature/poetry/verse and in common speech. Fascinating….. a very “physical” read [if there can be such a thing].So I shall have to make do with the decent into Hell for the moment, and look forward to finding, “II Purgatory” and perhaps “III Heaven” when next in the UK.
I am looking forward to setting some serious reading time aside, to soak this epic in.
Thanks to Dottie, and coupled with my Amazon purchases, I have plenty more books waiting to be read; I hope that if I ration myself, they will see me through to the end of June, and our return for a few brief weeks.
I have also finished reading a book that was loaned to me by Marica, entitled The Abundant Herds: by Marguerite Poland/David Hammond_Tooke & Leigh Voigt.
About the Nguni herds that I have been rattling on about for the past two posts, and promising to speak something of. So here goes: in as abbreviated form as I possibly manage. You may gather from reading this that I have been developing an increasing regard for these beasts, and having read Marica’s book, I have become even more fascinated by them, and the story of their close association with the Zulu people. Forgive me if I get a little enthusiastic in my account. And please feel free to give me an email slapping when you next write.
Thanks Amanda!, I read Mudbound a great first novel and beautifully written. The setting of the story ie: wife removed from comforts of refined living, to a mudbound, cotton farm in the middle of no where, ……..rather close to the bone I think! Let’s hope that I don’t make the same choices as the wife!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!![Now you have to read it!]
I have several more books on the go, including, Homecoming by Bernhard Schlink, which I very appropriately, finished on our drive back to the farm, from Cape Town. Really enjoyed it…very thought provoking and a demanding read.
.
Poe’s: The fall of the house of Usher. Full of overly worked treacley passages, and the author’s obsessive interest in beauty and the bizarre. I keep forging on, on the premise that it may prove inspirational, but have a sneaking suspicion that I shall get irritated before I become inspired.
I found The Divine Comedy,[which I had promised myself I would read after “The Gargoyle” ] & which I had a sneaking suspicion I had on my book shelves. I was right, but its only Book 1:Dante`s decent into hell…I have started reading it, and find that much of the basic story and many of the characters are familiar to me, as a result of the content being referred to so often in other literature/poetry/verse and in common speech. Fascinating….. a very “physical” read [if there can be such a thing].So I shall have to make do with the decent into Hell for the moment, and look forward to finding, “II Purgatory” and perhaps “III Heaven” when next in the UK.
I am looking forward to setting some serious reading time aside, to soak this epic in.
Thanks to Dottie, and coupled with my Amazon purchases, I have plenty more books waiting to be read; I hope that if I ration myself, they will see me through to the end of June, and our return for a few brief weeks.
I have also finished reading a book that was loaned to me by Marica, entitled The Abundant Herds: by Marguerite Poland/David Hammond_Tooke & Leigh Voigt.
About the Nguni herds that I have been rattling on about for the past two posts, and promising to speak something of. So here goes: in as abbreviated form as I possibly manage. You may gather from reading this that I have been developing an increasing regard for these beasts, and having read Marica’s book, I have become even more fascinated by them, and the story of their close association with the Zulu people. Forgive me if I get a little enthusiastic in my account. And please feel free to give me an email slapping when you next write.
Nguni
Nguni`s are a particular type of cattle, that have inhabited Africa successfully for some 1200 years, being of robust build and nature, they have totally adapted to living in the harsher climate of the Northern Cape, traditionally their pastures were the more verdant ones to the East. They are unlike “our” European cows, and more closely resemble the Indian cows, with one very major difference…their patterning, which is truly beautiful.
Great spotted colourful, beasts,who`s individual patterning, is so unique it is like a fingerprint, they can be spotted, splashed, streaked ,striped and pied, a combination of all of these or just a few. In colours ranging from pure white through dun, , yellow, amber orange, terracotta red, a complete range of brown hues from ochre to burnt sienna, to a purply blue/black, again in combination of all the above colours or just a few. Some with and some without the hump on their withers.
Their huge upturned horns and gentle, enquiring disposition have marked them out for particular regard here in South Africa .As they have always been, they are providers of milk and meat, their hide is used for its leather, and hides are used as art objects and displayed for their beauty..Interestingly, these herds remain indicators of wealth, as they have been for hundreds of years. The South African government has recently established support for a breeding program to encourage the increase of pure bred Nguni.
Their origins can be documented way back in the annals of time, but the Nguni are, above all, known for their significance within Zulu culture. For hundreds of years, the well-being of the Nguni herds and the Zulu people have been so closely connected that cattle have become a part of the people's spiritual and aesthetic lives.
The Zulu lived with their Ngunis, herded into a central craal, [circular stock proof fenced area] around which all the tribal huts formed an outer circle, where they in turn, were fenced.
The Nguni were central to the lives of the Zulu, both literally and in every other sense, the people, loved, respected and celebrated the Nguni in a way that recognized their complete co dependence.
This intimacy between Zulu and his Nguni, has given rise to a complex and aesthetically rich naming practice, which has encouraged the Zulu language to develop vivid imagery and lyricism, within its structure.
Apart from the beauty of these herds, this part of the story, I have found utterly captivating..
Each of the uniquely patterned Nguni has a name specifically chosen, and based upon its distinctive markings.
The isiZulu language captures the subtle interrelationship between cattle terminology and the natural world, where the colour and pattern of a hide, or the shape of a pair of horns is linked to images in nature, and forms a unique social/cultural record of the Zulu, of their language, and their poetry.
Here are some of the “names”, some of them so long, that they form small sentences…a bit of a mouthful when you are calling them in…which apparently is done as they are very biddable and respond, much as a dog will do. Incidentally…they are referred to generically, as “Beasts” here in South Africa, as opposed to “cows”…so ,when in Rome!
All names are in italics and in English, as the Zulu is a little challenging.
The eggs of the lark - a creamy coat spotted with fine rust speckles.
The gaps between the branches of the trees silhouetted against the sky - a deeply dappled animal.
The hornbill takes to flight - a dark beast which shows a flash of white beneath its flank when its walks.
What stabs the rain - the upright points of a young steer's horns.
Locust: A black or red beast with white on the back and face
Mole: describes a beast with speckles around the throat. The speckling signifies the lumps of earth thrown up by a mole when he is digging.
Like the stones of the forest: Black,or red with large spots defined by a feint white edge.
Sugarbean : cream coloured beast speckled with red, resembling a sugar bean. Zulu for “Sugar bean” is “Zumba” which is also a great word.
The beast which is a woman crossing the river : the patterning shows red from the head and body to the upper thigh then all four legs are white, the pattern brings to mind the image of a woman lifting her skirts to cross a river.
Like old people: a grey beast tending to white resembling a grey haired person.
Bullrush: Light muddy overall colour without spotting
Beast which has a person inside .White with coloured shape on side that looks like a reclining person.
Nguni`s are a particular type of cattle, that have inhabited Africa successfully for some 1200 years, being of robust build and nature, they have totally adapted to living in the harsher climate of the Northern Cape, traditionally their pastures were the more verdant ones to the East. They are unlike “our” European cows, and more closely resemble the Indian cows, with one very major difference…their patterning, which is truly beautiful.
Great spotted colourful, beasts,who`s individual patterning, is so unique it is like a fingerprint, they can be spotted, splashed, streaked ,striped and pied, a combination of all of these or just a few. In colours ranging from pure white through dun, , yellow, amber orange, terracotta red, a complete range of brown hues from ochre to burnt sienna, to a purply blue/black, again in combination of all the above colours or just a few. Some with and some without the hump on their withers.
Their huge upturned horns and gentle, enquiring disposition have marked them out for particular regard here in South Africa .As they have always been, they are providers of milk and meat, their hide is used for its leather, and hides are used as art objects and displayed for their beauty..Interestingly, these herds remain indicators of wealth, as they have been for hundreds of years. The South African government has recently established support for a breeding program to encourage the increase of pure bred Nguni.
Their origins can be documented way back in the annals of time, but the Nguni are, above all, known for their significance within Zulu culture. For hundreds of years, the well-being of the Nguni herds and the Zulu people have been so closely connected that cattle have become a part of the people's spiritual and aesthetic lives.
The Zulu lived with their Ngunis, herded into a central craal, [circular stock proof fenced area] around which all the tribal huts formed an outer circle, where they in turn, were fenced.
The Nguni were central to the lives of the Zulu, both literally and in every other sense, the people, loved, respected and celebrated the Nguni in a way that recognized their complete co dependence.
This intimacy between Zulu and his Nguni, has given rise to a complex and aesthetically rich naming practice, which has encouraged the Zulu language to develop vivid imagery and lyricism, within its structure.
Apart from the beauty of these herds, this part of the story, I have found utterly captivating..
Each of the uniquely patterned Nguni has a name specifically chosen, and based upon its distinctive markings.
The isiZulu language captures the subtle interrelationship between cattle terminology and the natural world, where the colour and pattern of a hide, or the shape of a pair of horns is linked to images in nature, and forms a unique social/cultural record of the Zulu, of their language, and their poetry.
Here are some of the “names”, some of them so long, that they form small sentences…a bit of a mouthful when you are calling them in…which apparently is done as they are very biddable and respond, much as a dog will do. Incidentally…they are referred to generically, as “Beasts” here in South Africa, as opposed to “cows”…so ,when in Rome!
All names are in italics and in English, as the Zulu is a little challenging.
The eggs of the lark - a creamy coat spotted with fine rust speckles.
The gaps between the branches of the trees silhouetted against the sky - a deeply dappled animal.
The hornbill takes to flight - a dark beast which shows a flash of white beneath its flank when its walks.
What stabs the rain - the upright points of a young steer's horns.
Locust: A black or red beast with white on the back and face
Mole: describes a beast with speckles around the throat. The speckling signifies the lumps of earth thrown up by a mole when he is digging.
Like the stones of the forest: Black,or red with large spots defined by a feint white edge.
Sugarbean : cream coloured beast speckled with red, resembling a sugar bean. Zulu for “Sugar bean” is “Zumba” which is also a great word.
The beast which is a woman crossing the river : the patterning shows red from the head and body to the upper thigh then all four legs are white, the pattern brings to mind the image of a woman lifting her skirts to cross a river.
Like old people: a grey beast tending to white resembling a grey haired person.
Bullrush: Light muddy overall colour without spotting
Beast which has a person inside .White with coloured shape on side that looks like a reclining person.
There are many many more, but you get the picture.
Gerrit and Marica have a herd of Nguni,[I think around 60 beasts] ,I have been lucky enough to find them on a couple of occasions , as they roam the farm land quite freely, often paying a visit to the guests, in the four chalets that are set in the game park at the end of the lake. This is where I took these pictures.
Also some rather random pictures of the departure of some visitors from UP, who arrived at the lake on Easter Monday, in a helicopter. Rather flash don’t you think....but you can see the guest house through the helicopter image.I was always very partial to walking the dogs on Greenham common, with its resident herd of cows grazing lazily in the long grass and between the gorse bushes, but my experience of the Nguni herd is quite something else. They are very inquisitive, incredibly gentle and have an air of complete assurance about themselves, there is something of the arcane about them ,that is utterly compelling…..Perhaps it’s the heat getting to me…….I have come over all “Cow woman”….[could be my age though]
OLD GEEZERS & YOUNG GEEZERS
Talking of heat…the thermometer is headed downward, as we hurtle through Autumn and head into “Winter”, which is counted in WEEKS in the Northern Cape rather than months!.
Our daily temperatures now range between 25 and 35 degrees, far more bearable than the stonking 47 we hit in February. I notice that the air conditioners are used less frequently in the farm now…I’m not sure if it has to do with getting more used to the heat though.
…just as the temperatures are dropping…the old Geezer, [which was not replaced when they did the renovation works], gave up, over the Easter weekend….resulting in cold showers and lots of pans of boiling water. By Tuesday a team of Geezer boys arrived, and promptly scampered up ladders onto the roof, removing a portion of the same, then heaved up, and in, a shiny aluminum geezer, resulting in more temperate washing facilities…thank goodness.
The raisin coffers are full.
The harvesting/drying season for grapes is now over,Bossy`s raisin coffers are as full as he wants them to be this season, the factory is buzzing and in full swing,running a night shift, in order to process the farmer stock, and get the assorted colours and sizes of raisins “on the water” to their varied destinations world wide. This processing, in the factory will continue from now until November/Dec, with a short break, when the entire process starts again.
Little returns to Cape Town ,and his first Winter.
This Monday [20th April] we left once again for Cape Town. Later than usual as a result of sleeping through the alarm…uneventful journey save for my observations of the “green desert” and even more animals grazing…I spotted: ostrich, springbok, baboons and small creatures who look like stoats, some are rusty red and others are black, also some Dassies, these are like very furry and rather large guinea pigs. They live in rock outcrops and in my opinion are rather sloth like, and not particularly attractive.
Once in Cape Town, we made a hasty dash to the school uniform shop to equip Little with some Winter uniform and a new pair of rugby boots…unsurprisingly the school uni shop does not stock size 12 rugby boots [very scary indeed!],so we hotfooted to one of “ the big five” shopping malls, where we secured a pair of suitably enormous boots to fit this twelve year olds, gigantic feet.
After a rapid name taping session in the comfort of the hotel room, we drove a very nervous Little to school for 5.00 pm, where we helped him make up his bed and fill his cupboard with new uniform….matron now leaves us to our own devises, instead of spinning around us like a whirling dervish, which makes for a far more gentle departure…nevertheless, it was one where I fought to stifle my tears, and swallow down the huge lump in my throat, trying hard to avoid making direct eye contact with Little for fear of setting him off ….as usual he was suffering from dreadful tummy gripes. All this, coupled with ample slaps on the back, and bear hugs from Papa, along with his vociferous encouragement for the school team rugby trials which take place tomorrow. Such is the schools [and nations] fervor for the sport ,they customarily roll out teams A through D .Those of you that know Little, will know that he really doesn’t posses the aggression generally associated with Rugby…this does not hold any sway with the several rugby coaches, who salivate at Little`s bulk, and are keen to get him into the serious winter rugby training program, that all team members HAVE to be involved with.
Despite offers of supper out in Cape Town, I declined… feeling out of sorts, and Bossy and I, availed ourselves of room service and hit the sac early. After several meetings in Cape Town the following morning that ran over, we left late, which meant that the last third of our return to the farm, was in darkness, which neither of us relish. The only highlight of our return was the tremendous greeting we both received from the dogs, who were beside themselves with joy at our return. Bongo…. who is fast catching up with Bees height, cannot understand why he can no longer run underneath her tummy. It was very funny to see him trying to career around the kitchen with her [not diminutive weight] straddled over his back, and her flailing around in a desperate attempt to grab hold of some firm footing during the piggy back ride she was unhappily a passenger to, around the kitchen
Talking of heat…the thermometer is headed downward, as we hurtle through Autumn and head into “Winter”, which is counted in WEEKS in the Northern Cape rather than months!.
Our daily temperatures now range between 25 and 35 degrees, far more bearable than the stonking 47 we hit in February. I notice that the air conditioners are used less frequently in the farm now…I’m not sure if it has to do with getting more used to the heat though.
…just as the temperatures are dropping…the old Geezer, [which was not replaced when they did the renovation works], gave up, over the Easter weekend….resulting in cold showers and lots of pans of boiling water. By Tuesday a team of Geezer boys arrived, and promptly scampered up ladders onto the roof, removing a portion of the same, then heaved up, and in, a shiny aluminum geezer, resulting in more temperate washing facilities…thank goodness.
The raisin coffers are full.
The harvesting/drying season for grapes is now over,Bossy`s raisin coffers are as full as he wants them to be this season, the factory is buzzing and in full swing,running a night shift, in order to process the farmer stock, and get the assorted colours and sizes of raisins “on the water” to their varied destinations world wide. This processing, in the factory will continue from now until November/Dec, with a short break, when the entire process starts again.
Little returns to Cape Town ,and his first Winter.
This Monday [20th April] we left once again for Cape Town. Later than usual as a result of sleeping through the alarm…uneventful journey save for my observations of the “green desert” and even more animals grazing…I spotted: ostrich, springbok, baboons and small creatures who look like stoats, some are rusty red and others are black, also some Dassies, these are like very furry and rather large guinea pigs. They live in rock outcrops and in my opinion are rather sloth like, and not particularly attractive.
Once in Cape Town, we made a hasty dash to the school uniform shop to equip Little with some Winter uniform and a new pair of rugby boots…unsurprisingly the school uni shop does not stock size 12 rugby boots [very scary indeed!],so we hotfooted to one of “ the big five” shopping malls, where we secured a pair of suitably enormous boots to fit this twelve year olds, gigantic feet.
After a rapid name taping session in the comfort of the hotel room, we drove a very nervous Little to school for 5.00 pm, where we helped him make up his bed and fill his cupboard with new uniform….matron now leaves us to our own devises, instead of spinning around us like a whirling dervish, which makes for a far more gentle departure…nevertheless, it was one where I fought to stifle my tears, and swallow down the huge lump in my throat, trying hard to avoid making direct eye contact with Little for fear of setting him off ….as usual he was suffering from dreadful tummy gripes. All this, coupled with ample slaps on the back, and bear hugs from Papa, along with his vociferous encouragement for the school team rugby trials which take place tomorrow. Such is the schools [and nations] fervor for the sport ,they customarily roll out teams A through D .Those of you that know Little, will know that he really doesn’t posses the aggression generally associated with Rugby…this does not hold any sway with the several rugby coaches, who salivate at Little`s bulk, and are keen to get him into the serious winter rugby training program, that all team members HAVE to be involved with.
Despite offers of supper out in Cape Town, I declined… feeling out of sorts, and Bossy and I, availed ourselves of room service and hit the sac early. After several meetings in Cape Town the following morning that ran over, we left late, which meant that the last third of our return to the farm, was in darkness, which neither of us relish. The only highlight of our return was the tremendous greeting we both received from the dogs, who were beside themselves with joy at our return. Bongo…. who is fast catching up with Bees height, cannot understand why he can no longer run underneath her tummy. It was very funny to see him trying to career around the kitchen with her [not diminutive weight] straddled over his back, and her flailing around in a desperate attempt to grab hold of some firm footing during the piggy back ride she was unhappily a passenger to, around the kitchen
Fruits of the farm
I have begun to measure up the back garden, in order to plot it on graph paper and begin to make some sense of it and decisions about its long term layout. There is currently a rickety chicken wire fence that stands about 7 meters beyond the end of the pool and the braii room, this fence stretches out, either side for around 150 meters and then drops at right angles away from the house and down a small incline,for another 100 meters, with a similarly rickety fence running parallel beyond, forming a small craal, directly behind the rear outlook of the farm…the craal, has an old cement watering hole, and the entire space is currently used by Moses when he wants to contain his chickens. Bossy has long term visions of stocking this area, with a few Springbok., but in order to do this we need to carefully reconsider the entire fencing arrangement. I have a feeling that the rather bare crall,which is mostly rock face, will have to be covered in top soil and planted with grass seed ,if we are to get Bokkies to graze happily …another task for the “To do list”.
The back garden is currently the thin stretch of sand that lies between the edge of the pool,and beyond, to the boundary of the craal fence.
Far beyond the house, but within this “back garden” are four or five uncared for orange trees [I didn’t realize that orange trees had thorns….. and they do, very spiteful ones about 2 inches long!]. As I was measuring yesterday, I realized that oranges were ready for the picking and collected a basket full of them…with intention of squeezing them, and freezing the juice. Having been left to grow semi wild, they are all gnarly and not very tempting to eat…so this year they will be juiced….when they have finished fruiting, I have the promise of some expert pruning help, so maybe this time next year, we will have some large ,edible oranges.
Not oranges..but neverthe less "Fruits"...from our randon rock collecting around the farm!Anyway…back to the garden. Stretching out from these citrus trees to the craal fence is a portion of good unused ground, the builders tended to use this as their dumping ground…this is where I plan my raised vegetable beds…four of them to start with. We have a great deal of work to do here before we can even consider planting. Hence the layout, to see exactly how the land relates to the house.
To my great surprise the development of my seeds is giving me the most immense pleasure…Taz, your peppers have finally germinated and the entire herb garden, begins to look as though something is happening…..Moses, is very amused at how dedicated I am to it…standing for periods just inspecting the growth of my seedlings….he smiles and sais “Its alrrrright Missus” [with that curious rolling “R” that they do here], then I realize that I have been looking for rather a long time at them, and slope off feeling a tad embarrassed.
Vestiges of my days at Klinkenberg UK Ltd and the delights of HM revenue & Customs.
For the past few days I have been trying to pin down the report and accounts for Klink UK..no mean feat since its being done from afar now. Our UK accountants and Companies house for that matter, just cannot grasp the fact that we are now in the middle of the desert and have NO access to FEDEX or DHL in order to get urgent signed docs back to the UK. They guffawed, when I explained that the requested documentation was being handed to one of our lorry drivers, who having trucked 20 tons of raisins to Cape Town harbour,[a 10 hour trip] ,would hand documents over to our freight forwarders, who would then use the services of FEDEX and send them onto the UK from Cape Town…..they commented that it sounded much like the “pony express”….They are right…all other forms of communication are up to the mark here…but to get original documents at speed …..Anywhere [even within SA] requires a little ingenuity.
On this note, I have to just mention something that has amazed me and restored a little faith in “the system”
In order to support Finn with his student loan, I agreed to be means tested by LEA. They had been chasing me for months in England without my being aware of it [our post gets collected for us by the lovely Tony & Inga, and I collect it when I am back in the UK].
Anyhow, the LEA, had become so understandably sick, of my lack of response, that they had simply stopped Finns loan [YIKES!] at Easter. Mercifully Finn was with me, when I opened the rather depressing group of letters from LEA…we both looked at each other and did synchronized screaming ……AGAIN!, then calmed down…not to be defeated, I made a note of what was required and contacted my Tax office on 14th April, someone there, noted my request, explained that it was not a problem, nor indeed was it a problem to send this document to South Africa. Yeaahhh right, was my inward response! And to expect a statement in due course. I sent a cautionary email to the LEA, explaining what I had done and asking them to “bear with me” for a period of 8 weeks.
Today the statement from HM Revenue & Customs in the UK, arrived on Bossy`s desk…only 9 days after my telephone conversation!!!! AMAZED OR WHAT! It has been scanned and emailed off to the LEA and I hope that Finn will be able to eat within a matter of days!!!!!!
Goodbye for now
Sending much love to all, very special Birthday thoughts for Dottie.And a big “Happy Birthday” to Hen.
Pam, I hope that you are gliding around, in a pristine new kitchen space.
Lots of love and wishes of strength to my sisters [painful anniversaries this month]. Jane….are your results out yet ?and Taz, I know it still hurts, but good news there is no lasting damage to your back!
Huge cuddles for Jelly who is now deep into revision mode ..and I know will be at the stage of drinking coffee whilst sitting half way up the stairs.5 more weeks’ darling.
To Tommy, well done for standing firm with your bosses and good luck with your surgeon!!!!!!!!
To Little, work hard and stay happy, and to Finn…well all I can say is…….happy eating!!!!! And good luck with the exams.
As always huge thanks for all the great emails and calls and letters, I really would be bereft without them. As for Skype ,I cant sing its praises highly enough...great to talk with "Family Hall"..lets hope our comms are better next time..same goes for Viki!!!!!
I do feel somewhat errant this month, for not being in such good contact with everyone, but hope I am forgiven ,as a result of having the house a little busier than usual.
Kisses on the Lips for everyone!!!!
DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
PS: Loops and Di, I emailed the lady from Cape Town uni…[despite trying very hard to make the missive unstalkerish]….. she HASN’T emailed me back!!!!!!
Friday, April 10, 2009
The dogs playing in the garden
BONGO MAD DOG!
Quading Boys
Ngunis at sunset..I have yet to write about them!
Cape Town…something of a habit!!!!
Our 6.00 am departures for Cape Town are becoming something of a habit now, the only difference this time was that it was still pitch black when we left the farm, with two very confused dogs, blinking through the glass kitchen doors as we departed, not quite understanding why they had been breakfasted quite so early.
Bossy had been up since four, his internal alarm having “pinged early”, and so he stretched himself out on the rear seats with ample pillows, whilst I cracked on with the drive, and Finn nodded in the co-pilots seat next to me. In honesty this is how I prefer to drive, either with silent passengers or none at all.
Immersed in my own choice of music,[ having sneaked Bossies Europop,and Dunbilly collection out of the “in car”CD collection.,an action was to bite me on the backside during, our return trip], I rattled along at my own pace, aware of the sun coming up behind me and the desert landscape ahead, taking on a rose coloured bloom.
Once the sun had risen, I realized that the desert section was GREEN!...or a dusty grey green, with frondy grasses at the roadside standing about 18 inches tall and gently swaying in the warm breezes, The rainy season, has transformed the harsh passive landscape, and it now appears more gentle, this softness and growth, has brought movement to the desert.
Each side of the road, behind wire fences, animals were grazing,[ I have never seen this before, so far North on this route], I assume that the farmers who are brave enough to work this land, have moved their stock up to take advantage of the fodder. The route was lined with cows and sheep/goats and a surprising number of horses, many with foals.A. very bucolic scene.but unlike anything I have ever seen in Europe.
For three hours I enjoyed pottering along, then, just as we were approaching Garies,Bossy awoke. This signaled the end to my peace and quiet; after several barbed comments directed at the slow rate of my progress and my reluctance to overtake Lorries whilst negotiating bends…I careered into Garies petrol station and “handed” over the keys! If Bossy had wanted to, he might have checked the “on board” computer and discovered that since leaving the farm, we had done an average of 91 miles per hour and clocked up 280 miles,on the long straight roads from Marchant.
Anyway, arriving at the Winchester mansions around 1.30, we lunched outside, watching a progression of happy sunny people traveling along Beach Road, and the dramatic cool sea beyond. We sauntered around the waterfront, having bought Finn a leather bushman hat, which both Bossy and I, insisted he wear to demonstrate that he was indeed a tourist…of course we are no longer required to wear such items, being legal occupants of the country now. The atmosphere was wonderful and the three of us were on good form despite the long drive.
Bossy and Finn had had something of a geographical dispute on exactly where the Angel of the North stood: was it “just outside of Newcastle” which Finn insisted it was, or,was it, as Bossy had insisted 20 miles + out of Newcastle..The two of them had taken a bet,and the winner was to be purchased a pair of new shoes by the losing party. Much of the Waterfont experience was spent eying up, very expensive shoes, and listening to the two of them needling each other! It was agreed that on our return to W.M, we would use the internet as judge and jury.
That evening, we met the Van Zyle clan [who were en route to Mossel Bay for their Easter hols] in the Cod father for supper..a truly spectacular meal..possibly ranking as one of my best ever meals out. Finn was particularly smiley as he was guaranteed a pair of new shoes the following day, after we had collected Little from school.
9.30 a.m and we were at Bishops prep, watching the stream of little boys and waiting for our big one!. In the distance I saw someone who looked as though they were going to a fancy dress party…it was Edwin, dressed,as every other boy in the school was, in his “number one uniform”. However the shorty shorts,the long grey socks and the white shirt and blazer with horizontally striped tie [ looks very 30`s!] …simply made him look totally incongruous, in view of his extreme height[ he is now almost as tall as I am!]..This man/child came gamboling towards us, much as Bongo does, struggling to co ordinate his extremely long legs. Sporting a painfully cruel, school hair cut, and the biggest smiliest smile ever. He had wanted to get straight in the car and head back to the farm, however once we explained that Bossy had a debt to repay, he was amused and with grace, agreed to our detour back to the Waterfront, where the debt was settled. The three of us racing off to buy shoes and the obligatory experimental bottles of wine from Mr Vaughn. Whilst Bossy parked the car.
This is when Bossy, left to his own devices managed to buy and install one of his notoriously suspect Music Cd`s in the car… Paulo Contini`s “Hits”…Now some of Paulo`s music I find great…but this CD was clearly purchased at speed and without looking at the content. Whilst were driving out of Cape Town, we were treated to the aged Signore Contini..putting his vocal chords through their rather tired paces, accompanied by accordions and an assortment of percussive instruments that did NOT sit comfortably with his ailing vocal abilities…Bossy was initially fiercely protective …and had to put up with our mirth and accompaniments’, which we all achieved remarkably accurately by pinching the skin on our necks and wobbling it..as we sung “Italianesque” lyrics along with Signore C. After a very few kilometers, a new CD was found. I do feel sorry for Bossy sometimes….each to their own and all that!...in this case, most definitely in the privacy of a padded cell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THE QUADING EXPERIENCE
Cape Town…something of a habit!!!!Our 6.00 am departures for Cape Town are becoming something of a habit now, the only difference this time was that it was still pitch black when we left the farm, with two very confused dogs, blinking through the glass kitchen doors as we departed, not quite understanding why they had been breakfasted quite so early.
Bossy had been up since four, his internal alarm having “pinged early”, and so he stretched himself out on the rear seats with ample pillows, whilst I cracked on with the drive, and Finn nodded in the co-pilots seat next to me. In honesty this is how I prefer to drive, either with silent passengers or none at all.
Immersed in my own choice of music,[ having sneaked Bossies Europop,and Dunbilly collection out of the “in car”CD collection.,an action was to bite me on the backside during, our return trip], I rattled along at my own pace, aware of the sun coming up behind me and the desert landscape ahead, taking on a rose coloured bloom.
Once the sun had risen, I realized that the desert section was GREEN!...or a dusty grey green, with frondy grasses at the roadside standing about 18 inches tall and gently swaying in the warm breezes, The rainy season, has transformed the harsh passive landscape, and it now appears more gentle, this softness and growth, has brought movement to the desert.
Each side of the road, behind wire fences, animals were grazing,[ I have never seen this before, so far North on this route], I assume that the farmers who are brave enough to work this land, have moved their stock up to take advantage of the fodder. The route was lined with cows and sheep/goats and a surprising number of horses, many with foals.A. very bucolic scene.but unlike anything I have ever seen in Europe.
For three hours I enjoyed pottering along, then, just as we were approaching Garies,Bossy awoke. This signaled the end to my peace and quiet; after several barbed comments directed at the slow rate of my progress and my reluctance to overtake Lorries whilst negotiating bends…I careered into Garies petrol station and “handed” over the keys! If Bossy had wanted to, he might have checked the “on board” computer and discovered that since leaving the farm, we had done an average of 91 miles per hour and clocked up 280 miles,on the long straight roads from Marchant.
Anyway, arriving at the Winchester mansions around 1.30, we lunched outside, watching a progression of happy sunny people traveling along Beach Road, and the dramatic cool sea beyond. We sauntered around the waterfront, having bought Finn a leather bushman hat, which both Bossy and I, insisted he wear to demonstrate that he was indeed a tourist…of course we are no longer required to wear such items, being legal occupants of the country now. The atmosphere was wonderful and the three of us were on good form despite the long drive.
Bossy and Finn had had something of a geographical dispute on exactly where the Angel of the North stood: was it “just outside of Newcastle” which Finn insisted it was, or,was it, as Bossy had insisted 20 miles + out of Newcastle..The two of them had taken a bet,and the winner was to be purchased a pair of new shoes by the losing party. Much of the Waterfont experience was spent eying up, very expensive shoes, and listening to the two of them needling each other! It was agreed that on our return to W.M, we would use the internet as judge and jury.
That evening, we met the Van Zyle clan [who were en route to Mossel Bay for their Easter hols] in the Cod father for supper..a truly spectacular meal..possibly ranking as one of my best ever meals out. Finn was particularly smiley as he was guaranteed a pair of new shoes the following day, after we had collected Little from school.
9.30 a.m and we were at Bishops prep, watching the stream of little boys and waiting for our big one!. In the distance I saw someone who looked as though they were going to a fancy dress party…it was Edwin, dressed,as every other boy in the school was, in his “number one uniform”. However the shorty shorts,the long grey socks and the white shirt and blazer with horizontally striped tie [ looks very 30`s!] …simply made him look totally incongruous, in view of his extreme height[ he is now almost as tall as I am!]..This man/child came gamboling towards us, much as Bongo does, struggling to co ordinate his extremely long legs. Sporting a painfully cruel, school hair cut, and the biggest smiliest smile ever. He had wanted to get straight in the car and head back to the farm, however once we explained that Bossy had a debt to repay, he was amused and with grace, agreed to our detour back to the Waterfront, where the debt was settled. The three of us racing off to buy shoes and the obligatory experimental bottles of wine from Mr Vaughn. Whilst Bossy parked the car.
This is when Bossy, left to his own devices managed to buy and install one of his notoriously suspect Music Cd`s in the car… Paulo Contini`s “Hits”…Now some of Paulo`s music I find great…but this CD was clearly purchased at speed and without looking at the content. Whilst were driving out of Cape Town, we were treated to the aged Signore Contini..putting his vocal chords through their rather tired paces, accompanied by accordions and an assortment of percussive instruments that did NOT sit comfortably with his ailing vocal abilities…Bossy was initially fiercely protective …and had to put up with our mirth and accompaniments’, which we all achieved remarkably accurately by pinching the skin on our necks and wobbling it..as we sung “Italianesque” lyrics along with Signore C. After a very few kilometers, a new CD was found. I do feel sorry for Bossy sometimes….each to their own and all that!...in this case, most definitely in the privacy of a padded cell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THE QUADING EXPERIENCE
To explain this picture of Bossy and Smallie.
Smallie [Moses` son,] is staying here, with Mrs Smallie,during his school break, he delights in being involved in the whole quading experience, but sadly is too small to drive any of them, Bossy is always really kind to him and invites him on our expeditions into the wilderness, Smallie, sits behind Bossy,[clinging on for dear life], and if I go out, I sit behind Little [clinging on for dear life]…Smallie justs stands and watches in complete admiration as the boys leap and skid around,and shower him in orange sand ,when they do “doughnuts”…despite my shrieking at them to stop…Smallie,whoops and shouts with glee. Bossy is particularly amused by this picture, suggesting that perhaps Maddona might be a little envious!...Cant take him anywhere!
LAKE GRAPPA
Most afternoons we have gone to the lake , where the boys have canoed, and in Finns case, jet ski`d, or simply mucked around in the water, until the sun has set [ around 6.45 pm,now!] and we have all returned to the farm tired and ready for supper in the braai room.
AUGRABIES AGAIN
On Tuesday morning, we took a trip to Augrabies, fully stocked up with petrol and cool drinks and biscuits, with every intention of “doing” the shorter of the routes on the game park…three hours!
After the first 10 minutes both Finn and Edwin were moaning, that the sand track was bumpy and that it was hot and that there were NO animals….. I then retaliated, advising them that I seemed to be surrounded by moaning men.
Actually I was quite enjoying the spectacular landscape, which they argued was solely because it was “arty farty”. We struck a compromise and decided that we would travel as far as Echo Corner and then retrace our steps and head back to “base camp” for a late breakfast. We did manage to see a herd of Springbok, and I saw plenty of “arty” stuff.
On our way back from Echo Corner, Little, started to feel very car sick as we bumped our way back to the reserve reception, and copious sips of cool water and promises of a cool swim helped avert certain disaster. As we had embarked on our trip. at 10.00 am the temperature was a balmy 25.5 and as we exited the park at 11.30 it was 34 degrees! SO MUCH FOR SAFARI`s!!!!!! . In general it was a disappointing expedition, on the premise that we were in a “game park”!
Little recovered within 15 minutes of returning to the farm and plunging into the pool which stays remarkably cool..thank goodness
After the first 10 minutes both Finn and Edwin were moaning, that the sand track was bumpy and that it was hot and that there were NO animals….. I then retaliated, advising them that I seemed to be surrounded by moaning men.
Actually I was quite enjoying the spectacular landscape, which they argued was solely because it was “arty farty”. We struck a compromise and decided that we would travel as far as Echo Corner and then retrace our steps and head back to “base camp” for a late breakfast. We did manage to see a herd of Springbok, and I saw plenty of “arty” stuff.
On our way back from Echo Corner, Little, started to feel very car sick as we bumped our way back to the reserve reception, and copious sips of cool water and promises of a cool swim helped avert certain disaster. As we had embarked on our trip. at 10.00 am the temperature was a balmy 25.5 and as we exited the park at 11.30 it was 34 degrees! SO MUCH FOR SAFARI`s!!!!!! . In general it was a disappointing expedition, on the premise that we were in a “game park”!
Little recovered within 15 minutes of returning to the farm and plunging into the pool which stays remarkably cool..thank goodness
Pictures from Echo corner.
Dead quiver trees
Silhouette shaped hole in rock .Augrabies
Above: Sink holes n the granite at the waterfall...One notch on the legendary [and imaginary] Bronco Layne throwing knife
Those of you who are squeamish or are particularly fond of creepy crawlies are advised to skip this section.
On Wednesday evening ,we returned from the lake, and braai`d….we lay the dogs ,vet bed out on the braii floor, Bongo has taken to copying Bee, and they both stretch out and “sleep” [actually they only pretend to close their eyes and snore, whilst we eat], and come to life when scraps are on offer. We had just completed this ritual ,and Bongo had returned to “Sleep”, when he suddenly sat bolt upright, staring towards the concertina glass doors that separate the braai room from the lounge…As he did this, I was aware of something racing under a brick, that was propping the door open. Mercifully he stopped in his tracks when he heard me shout. The dogs were promptly removed, and we took a look behind the brick…a disgusting thick tailed scorpion…one of the more poisonous type to both humans and dogs!...
Both Bossy and Finn were standing well back, discouraging me from scrabbling around to find a sharp spade [Loops!]…But I ALWAYS know where they are, and despite their groans , removed the brick and unceremoniously decapitated the scorpion….The internet tells me that they are of significant importance to biologists on account of the strength of their venom…..As you know, I am perfectly candid about my attitude to all dangerous creepy crawlies. . I remain utterly unashamed and consider my own biological importance and that of my family, of far greater value than that of a thick tailed scorpion.
If I had a Bronco Lane throwing knife, there would be one notch in it!
Finn then proceeded to lecture me about my attitude. This week he insisted that I purchase a very thick and thorough book about indigenous snakes. Since the purchase, he has been doing a great deal of reading,[ I have steadfastly refused to open the book] and now insists on regaling us with fascinating facts about the snakes that live in this area [ none of it nice!]…the theme of his lecture was to question the wisdom of my seeking to attack nasties, and suggested that as an option to “attack mode”, that I back off….of course if the situation allows I would back off…but on home territory and particularly if the dogs or we were threatened…..I would “go for it”…but in a sensible way…I have been watching Bear Grills and now consider him something of a modern day Bronco Layne. Whilst I don’t model myself on Bear Grills [just don’t have the muscle tone!]..I do watch how he handles threatening creatures very closely ,I note that he uses a “Bear Grills throwing knife”, which I am deeply impressed by, but do think he should carry a sharp spade with him at ALL times.
Seeds.
The talk of creepy crawlies brings me onto the setting up of our herb garden.
From the back of the farm..we overlook the drying slabs… most raisin drying has now been completed, and our slabs are now empty, however one of the farmers that Bossy rented them to, has left two large wooden raisin bins by the side of the slabs. I have had my eye on them ever since I returned from England…feeling that one, suitably filled with earth would make a great herb garden outside of my kitchen door, the other would be a brilliant start for my intended raised vegetable plot, the other side of the house where the “orchard” is…..in reality we have four or five orange trees in need of a severe pruning, and two fig trees.
Having discussed this idea with Finn, we decided to go and pilfer the bins, he was concerned that we should take suitable snake protection, so we armed ourselves with loaded air pistols [on safety], a sharp spade [of course] a towel…my idea…to throw over any snakes and confuse them.We loaded ourselves into “The RAISIN” and set forth towards the drying slabs.
Removing ourselves ,and strapped with our weapons, we approached the bins,stamping on the baked sand..on Finns instructions. These bins are incredibly robust and VERY heavy,and were stacked on top of each other ,with their closed bases facing up. Both taking a grip and with a deep breath, …on the count of…”One ,two,Three…….we heaved the first bin upwards, ……………….. a sudden dart of movement caught our eye and at the same moment… we immediately dropped the bin, both did synchronized screaming, and then both leapt backwards, as far away from the bins as possible, grappling for our weapons…………….
………………………….a small and rather innocuous desert lizard was making a hasty exit from the shade of the bin, and ran scuttling under the nearest bush for protection. We both sheepishly looked around to see if the spectacle of our ridiculous behavior had caught anyone’s attention…only the lizard was eyeing us with what can only be described as utter contempt from the shade of his new abode.
After a grueling 10 minutes the bins were both loaded onto “the Raisin”. We returned, hot and exhausted to the farm, where the bins were offloaded, in readiness for filling with soil.
I’m sure that I caught a glimpse of Moses, sniggering in the garage as we returned.
As these bins have a rival raisin producers name burnt in stencils onto their sides, Bossy insisted that we had to paint them. So the following day Finn and I painted the outside of the “herb garden” a dark blue, which Finn rather irritatingly kept referring to as PURPLE!, whatever its hue, the paint was sufficiently dark to hide the lettering, and evidence of our miscreant behavior.
We the spent the rest of the day filling the bin with rocks and course sand then some compost and then earth. Then I planted some of my seeds.
Taz…your peppers are in, and Dotti, the Chinese salad leaves, rocket, chives ,coriander,basil ,parsley are in. I restrained myself on quantities planted as I don’t want huge amounts coming up all at once…I plan to do some successive planting…but its all very experimental at the moment.
To my amazement THREE days later and I have small lines of very green seedlings bursting forth….I had to take a picture…sorry it’s deeply boring, but I just cannot believe that the salad leaves have germinated this rapidly. The entire process has made me feel very chirpy indeed…Finn is very amused at how I sprinkle water on the seedlings with a large sugar shaker [sans sugar]…as I don’t have a watering can yet!.
First sign of fresh herbs!
This blog is more full of photos….and less full of words than usual,[phew…I hear you all sighing with relief]…but they paint a great story of the past few…very happy weeks since my last blog, Finn seems to have recovered well from the state in which he arrived, and my dreadful home sickness has been helped by Skype and keeping busy.
Much love to all, have a wonderful Easter, whether it be with family, or ski ing or doing the garden…or anything else. We miss you all very much and think of you often.
Big Kisses to Tommy and Jell, really miss you both, after such a wonderful week & weekend in London Town. Get your heads together and start to plan your trip here in the summer. We are planning to come home for a couple of weeks of the 25th June.
Good luck with the revision Jell and Tommy, keep forging on with your training.
Kisses on the lips.
DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX