Recording and reminiscing; with occasional bokdrols of wisdom, one hopes.
Random, un-chronological events and memories after meeting Trish, marriage, children and sundry other catastrophes.
NO PERMISSION GIVEN to Artificial ‘Intelligence’ wannabes or LLMs to steal content. Don’t steal other people’s stuff, didn’t your mother teach you that!?Shame on you!
bokdrols – like pearls, but more organic. Handle with care
~~oo0oo~~
Note: I go back to my posts to add / amend as I remember things and as people mention things, so the posts evolve. I know (and respect) that some bloggers don’t change once they’ve posted, or add a clear note when they do. That’s good, but as this is a personal blog with the aim of one day editing them all into a hazy memoir, this way works for me.
Digging a sump at the bottom of my garden* and installing a submersible pump needs engineering skill and know-how. Luckily I have a lot of those required skills which I acquired indirectly. See, a mate of mine did first year engineering at Wits and then got promoted to first year optometry, where his vernuf rubbed off on me. Well, not directly onto me but onto my grey and grey 1965 Opel Concorde deluxe sedan. Driving the Opel then had that same vernuf seeping into my skull, which was rubbing against the lowered ceiling fabric of the modified Opel. Which had been rubbed against by a semi-engineer wearing blue suede shoes. You think I’m making this up. Ask his wife. I think that Opel ceiling fabric makes you bald, which is why real automotive engineers always mention that cars should have headroom.
So when my foot went thru the paving I immediately knew this was trouble. There was undermining afoot. And underfoot. I spoke to other residents of this toevlugsoord – that’s a resort – and the instant diagnosis was unanimous. It was moles. Moles? Ja, moles. How do moles get under miles of paving? It’s moles. Golden moles, the insect eaters with tiny teeth related to hedgehogs? Or mole rats, the tuber, root and plant eaters with big teeth sticking out of their mouths? It’s moles. Have you ever seen the moles? No, but we see their tunnels. Aren’t those just where the water has made it’s way under the paving? In the Drakensberg you get underground streams. It’s moles.
I bumped into the honorary parks board ranger in full uniform and an Ezimvelo sign on his bakkie door, who lives down the road – Hornbill Road – from me. With my engineers eye it looks like he must catch all of the water that runs down Hornbill, directed into the road by each of the dozen or so log cabins and their paved, boxed-in gardens. His garage sits right across the road at the bottom like a cul de sac. So he must have paving undermining problems, right? I asked him. It’s moles, he said.
Golden moles, the insect eaters with tiny teeth related to hedgehogs? Or mole rats, the tuber, root and plant eaters with big teeth sticking out of their mouths? I asked. Ah, I know those little golden moles he said. They tunnel just under the grass, they don’t make deep tunnels or mole hills. Y’know, those mountains of soil? They don’t make them. Ah . .
So I’m digging a sump at the bottom of my garden and installing a submersible pump which I’m hoping doesn’t get clogged up with moles.
~~oo0oo~~
nous – vernuf
vernuf – bs
*garden – paved patch, really
toevlugsoord – closed flight resort; a place you can flee to when things are not going swimmingly; only to find out things may go swimmingly again if you can’t fix the surface water drainage problem;
Ezimvelo – old Parks Board
cul de sac – ha, this time it’s French, for Straat Loop Dood;
The report was glowing when I fetched the bakkie from D&B Motorcare in Durban. Fully serviced, “It’s in wonderful shape, ready for your trip to Zimbabwe,” said the reliable father and son team who keep it shipshape.
Um, except one front tyre is wearing skwiff, have the wheels aligned, OK?
So off to Richards Bay where the Tyre Tannies had more to say. Something about wearing skwiff, different tyres, de-laminating, bulging, ens. And why are the Oom, who’s a Swanepoel, speaking English? So four new tyres were needed, not just an alignment, it turned out.
Weird that a bakkie’s electric window winding mechanisms don’t last eighteen years, don’t you think? And that one can’t get spares after so short a time?
Being without a working driver’s door window made me a bit sad. That was OK, though as it made my kids even sadder. They were my automatic gate openers and parking boom and toll booth payers. Actually they did it with surprising good humour, enjoying rolling their eyes at me and sighing. I think, I believe.
Then Willie Panelbeater found an after-market window-winding mechanism for me. The driver’s door window is back in business. Once again I am rolling up to tollbooth windows nonchalantly.
Meantime, the two rear windows had been playing up for quite a while, and eventually conked. So far we’ve been unsuccessful in our search of Olde parts suppliers and scrapyards, so I have had to Heath-Robinson a fix for the left rear door.
– Window Closed –– Window Open –
Now for the right rear. We’ll take turns sitting in the back, cos having windows like these, that don’t open all the way, is not fun! Shouldn’t be allowed. How can you look cool if you can’t hang your elbow out the window?
Update 1: Both rear windows have yielded to my mechanical skill and know-how and can open and shut again – and: All-The-Way open! Elbow-hanging cool can now take place. Also photography out the window in game reserves. Admittedly all very manual, no electric motors involved, and closing them if it starts to rain or a lion wants to stick its snoot inside entails stopping, opening the door and manhandling them closed.
I call it nostalgia, a wonderful throwback to Mom growing up on Nuwejaarsvlei and driving to town in Dad Frank’s yellow 1927 Erskine Tourer. Read about that here.
~~oo0oo~~
Update 2: I bought an exercise mat on special and quickly, before any exercise could take place, cut it up and covered up the gaping hole.
So determined was I to avoid going to Home Affairs that I made my life a bit of a misery. I spent hours online, starting 30th October. Later on I went to the FNB bank Cornubia branch that purports to do passports; they said Go Away, Go And Book Online. Eventually my current passport’s expiry date dribbled by. Then finally, as a last resort, I went to Home Affairs in Richards Bay without an appointment at 10am on Monday.
Fifteen minutes later I emerged with the promise that I’d have my new passport in two weeks. These fifteen minutes included a walk out of the building and across the road to a trailer doing photocopies of ID cards for Five Seffrican Ront – R5.
Bloody yell. Last night an sms and an email confirmed I had indeed been there in the flesh and I had done all the right things, fine thumbprints and handsome mugshot included.
What a ninny. Next time I’ll be a man and sommer do it the normal way from the outset.
~~oo0oo~~
UPDATE: Today Monday, forty nine minutes short of one week after my visit, I received this sms:
Later, I picked up my passport in about five minutes – there was one person ahead of me being helped when I got to Collections; the photo is indeed that of an elderly gentleman looking concerned, but that’s not their fault. I salute the people at Home Affairs and I apologise for my pessimism! I’m usually the one saying, ‘Ah, It’s not so bad.’
Next, I asked my very own ‘Relationship Manager’ how I could get small denomination US dollars. She said what she always says: Go On The App. Well, *click *click and a large sum of Rands was removed from my account, with the promise to courier a tiny amount of greenbacks to my door. I’m waiting . .
“Every man hath two birthdays, the date of his actual birth and the first day of each new year. No one regards the First of January with indifference. It is that from which all date their time, and count upon what is left.”
English writer Charles Lamb in 1823
So regular birthdays tell us how far we’ve come. Just a historical fact, a number. January 1st 'birth days' remind us to check where we have been and how much further we need to go. They're a wake-up call!
Here’s to a good 2026. Hey, we can hope . .
~~oo0oo~~
Our happy sound in the background for new year here in Mtunzini is the seldom-seen Southern Banded Snake Eagle. Ignore the dove going woo woo woo, the eagle is in the background going kak, kakakaa
~~oo0oo~~
(thanks for Charles Lamb quote, drmardygrothe.substack.com
Jessie’s spotting again. We booked a stay in a treehouse at Bonamanzi. Arriving too early for check-in, we took a walk in the camp while waiting for the key.
Dad there’s a yellow frog. Where, Jess? Omigawd Dad, there’s a snake! Where, Jess?
I aim my binocs where she’s pointing on the ground and spot a beautiful, slender green snake. It lunges forward. Now I’m watching a bright green snake with a bright yellow frog in its beak. It makes for a tree, carrying it’s prey like a tiny peeled mango. Now, if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that our little yellow frog has croaked.
– Aargh! Didn’t have my camera with me! –
But wait! The unhappy frog is unwilling to die, and with a mighty kick it ruks los and hops off, snake in pursuit. That frog hopped well over twenty times higher than its full 36mm body length, three huge jumps in a row with that frog-catching specialist snake in hot pursuit. Then suddenly, maybe becoming aware of our presence, the snake changed it’s mind, abandoned the chase and beetled off. The frog paused for a breather and let me get close:
– cellphone camera is better for close-ups –
The frog was a Tinker Reed Frog, the snake likely a Natal Green Snake, but could also have been a Green Water Snake. About 600mm long I’d guess.
– the scene of the hunt, the grip and the escape –
Here he is, saying Holy Shit That Was Close!
Actually, I couldn’t find his call, so as a placeholder, I used a frog I hope to hear in the Chimanimani mountains on our upcoming trip to Zimbabwe. Enjoy.
~~oo0oo~~
ruks los – heroically frees himself with a well-aimed kick in the fangs with his one leg the snake didn’t quite secure; or maybe boxed him a left hook with his free fist?
Jess and Tom share a birthday, so Tuesday was lunch in Umhlanga Rocks for urban Tom, and Thursday was a picnic in Mfolosi game reserve for nature guide Jess. Once again we forgot to take pics in the gateway centre, being far too busy eating, chatting, banking – Tom – and shopping for clothes – Jess.
A warm overcast day with a cool wind in the game reserve, and we remembered the cameras!
Breakfast was egg-mayo sandwiches and coffee made by Jess; Lunch was gourmet burgers flipped by Dad. Jess had brought three puddings, but we couldn’t – took them home.
On the way out an open game drive vehicle from a lodge outside the park needed help. The mighty Ford Ranger could help the Toyota Landcruiser with jumper cables and a no.10 spanner. Unfortunately his battery was dead as a dodo and needed a new one swopped out from a lodge backup vehicle, which was in the park with four staff members to lay out a lavish lunch for the pampered guests. But hey! we scored an ice cold beer and a coke from their cooler box. Thanks, safari guide man!
The kitchen tap mixer started leaking and I couldn’t complain. No-one would listen if I did, as I now own the joint! Luckily we have a three litre plastic jug, so for the last couple months Jess and I have fetched water from the bathroom to use in the kitchen. It’s the simplest solution.
I did go under the sink and loosen the fitting and check out what was needed. A 22mm spanner and a new mixer. In Westville we saw a beautiful one for a mere R3000 so we carefully placed it back and tiptoed out of the plumbers supplies store. I chose to focus on my dilemma of not having a 22mm spanner and stick with that useful loophole. After all, the bathroom basin in the cottage is a mere fourteen steps from the furthest of the twin sinks.
Anyhow something happened that wouldn’t wait and didn’t have an easy/lazy solution: The soakpit started overflowing. So I dug it up and fixed it. Well, would have, but there were only two spades and the guys helping me – who actually knew what they were doing – were using them.
Ownership is overrated.
I kept planning though. I even priced a 22mm spanner, but decided against buying it. The next day, checking my slip, I noticed the hardware store had actually charged me for it. So I rushed back to the store – ten days later. Luckily they were chill and handed me the spanner, so I have one less excuse. One day I’ll buy a shiny or matt new silver mixer and become a plumber. My pants do slip below my belt sometimes as I Ben Dover, exposing my jockeys and more, so I’m partially qualified.
~~oo0oo~~
Meanwhile, the creatures in the garden don’t mind.
We chose the Renosterkoppies road to Lower Sabie. Too beautiful. I’d love to drive it again with more time; take drinks and lunch along.
In camp, a rasping ruckus drew my attention to a furious Black-collared Barbet chasing a Lesser Honeyguide wanting to lay an egg in his nest. I’ve seen that dogfight before.
In the river and at sunset dam, Egyptian Geese, Black-wing Stilt, Black-wing Lapwing, Spoonbill, Three-Banded Plover, Hamerkop, Buffalo Weavers, White-faced Whistling Duck, Hadeda Ibis, Indian Myna, Yellow-billed Stork, fifteen Grey Heron on one tiny island in the river, Reed Cormorant, Black Crake, Village Weaver,
Crocodile bridge camp
A lovely Robin trifecta! Bearded Scrub Robin, White-browed (Heuglins/Hooligans) Robin-Chat, White-throated Robin-Chat. Three cuckoos, Red-chested, Diederik and a Klaas’ male courting his love interest, tirelessly bringing her grubs and finding her no matter where she moved to in a big sycamore fig. Three barbets, Black-collared, Yellow-rumped Tinker bird and an Acacia Pied; Terrestrial Brownbul, White-bellied Sunbird, Spectacled Weaver pair, Tawny-flanked Prinia, Trumpeter Hornbill, Bulbul, Brubru, Lesser Honeyguide calling from a calling post above us, Sombre Greenbul, Gymnogene Harrier-Hawk,
Twenty giraffe in a group just outside camp; A croc eating a zebra; A snooze of eleven lionesses and cubs in shade on a riverbed; inside the camp, a number of bushbuck does, one with a tiny fawn, and one ram.
Park, watch and listen. The creatures will come, almost anywhere. That’s my theory (I have many). Take coffee.
See this pic of one of my stakeouts? There are lots and lots of creatures watching me and listening intently, methinks. So I counter-lurk, waiting for them to make a move or a chirp. I do this regularly. The theory hypothesises thus: As you drive or walk in nature, all the creatures think, Hark! A dangerous predator approacheth. The most dangerous one, in fact. So they keep tjoepstil, duck behind a leaf or a branch, a bush or below the grass, depending on where they find themselves and how big or small they are. And freeze. You then hove into view making a helluva racket – and that’s when you’re tip-toeing and not talking. Once you’re safely past they give a giggle (interpreted by ethologists as an ‘all-clear’ signal which correctly interpreted says “intruder’s gone”) and carry on with their daily business. This explains why you can go on a long ‘birding walk’ and see buggerall; then in camp over a cold beer you can be mobbed by flocks.
Phabeni Gate and upper Sabie River area
As Jess was studying for her nature guide course online exam, holed up in our room at Sleepover, where we found good wifi signal, I went for morning drives, entering the Kruger through Phabeni Gate nearby. In the park, Jess prefers to keep moving – ‘it’s called a Game *Drive* for a reason, Dad’ – so this is my chance to practice my gentle lurking skills. By doing one of my patented lurks: Sort of Game ‘Parking.’ Saving diesel.
Forgot my coffee the first morning, so bought a cuppa from this mobile caffeine pusher at the gate. Thutty five South African Ront, followed by his salesman patter, ‘It’s usually forty Ront, but you are my first customer this fine morning.’ It was indeed a fine morning, so he got R35 plus a R5 tip.
Soon a Dark Chanting Goshawk started chanting on the uppermost twigs;
a Slender Mongoose stared at me briefly after crossing the road to the left; a Grey Duiker and tiny fawn dashed across the road to the right – I wondered if something was chasing them; nothing appeared; Redheaded Weavers were nesting in the untidy grassy nests, a Sabota Lark started singing.
Goshawk, Weaver & Lark
Brubru, Black Flycatcher, Rattling Cisticola, Southern Black Tit, Fork-tailed Drongo, Cape Turtle Dove, Blue Waxbill, Golden-breasted Bunting, Crested Barbet, Grey Hornbill, Bulbul, Gorgeous Bush-shrike, Emerald-spotted Wood Dove; Here’s a Black-crowned Tchagra, thanks to xeno-canto.org
At my next stakeout, within earshot of the Sabie river, a big Boer Bean Schotia, an Apple-leaf in flower, and a Marula were the trees I could identify. Green Pigeon, Red-eyed Dove, White-bellied Sunbird, Violet-backed Starling feasting on berries, Burchell’s Starling, Greater Blue-eared glossy Starling, Fish Eagle, Black-bellied Starling, Marico Sunbird. And a juvenile Martial Eagle being escorted off the premises by a Drongo.
~~oo0oo~~
Once Jess tagged along and we drove the right bank of the Sabie. We* saw more animals, tis true, including these, plus impala and nyala.
*We – Jess slept for more than half the drive!
~~oOo~~
audio from xeno-canto.org – thank you – a wonderful site
Jess is an amazing spotter. She has spotted two snakes in trees, one snake I had missed on the ground and once in Shingwedzi campsite she said, Dad, a snake just fell out of that tree! If it had been anyone else I’d have laughed and said, ‘Pull The Other One,’ but being Jess, I knew a snake had just dropped out of a tree.
Now she said, Dad, there’s a warthog in that tree! and of course there was, and now she was trying to get me to spot the leopard that had put it up there.
There, Dad! His ear flicked! I stared and stared through my Zeiss binocs. I double- and triple-checked I was looking in the right place. We carefully tracked the rock, the branch and the twig where she was looking, but each ear twitch and each I can see his spots through a gap in the branches had me thinking, the wind has stirred a leaf, or she’s seeing dappled sunlight.
After thirty minutes of focused peering and Jessie’s exasperation at Dof Dad: ‘Omigoodness Jess, a leopard just sat up! Right there where you said!’
Hot days, windy days, rainy days, cooler and even some cold weather. At first we could only snare four nights in the Kruger Park. Letaba, Skukuza, Satara and Pretoriuskop camps. One night each as we were asking for ‘any available space for tonight? ‘ Later we left the park to spend six nights just outside Phabeni gate for strong wifi and aircon for Jess as she wrote online exams; Then back into the park for two nights in Lower Sabie camp and our last night at Crocodile Bridge camp. That was the first time we’d stayed in those lovely camps. Now the only camps we haven’t yet stayed in are Malelane, Orpen and Pafuri Border Camp. We’ll get to them one day.
Lots of eles, huge herds of buffalo, plenty antelope and the most predators I’ve seen over such a short time. Three lion sightings, a dozen hyena sightings including three dens with pups, two leopard sightings, four Slender Mongoose, two Dwarf Mongoose. One hyena was going Hnngnng! then looked at us and said, Do You MInd?!
So we searched for a leopard. ‘I see him, he’s flicking his ear,’ said Jess. Thirty minutes later I finally saw him when he sat up!
At last I also see it!
At Skukuza a last-minute cancellation got us a chalet instead of camping, to Jessie’s delight. AND it was a brand-new bungalow, which Terry Brauer had told us about just a day or so before!
Two days later, 100km south of the first leopard: ‘There! Walking to the right!’ Jess again:
In the shop at PretoriusKop a lovely friendly lady takes my payment and says, “I recognise you guys, you were here two years ago.” Wow! Or did the till show we’d last purchased there two years ago? Anyway, friendly!
‘Pee two-by-two,’ said their teacher, standing at the door, not wanting to enter the gents. They heard, but were too busy staring at the ancient pale fella who had pushed ahead of them with apologies to them and their teacher. I was BUSTING, two coffees over budget.
Hordes of preschoolers in green t-shirts on a Kruger Park outing, each one cuter than the next. The girls were queueing next door. Three could finish pee-ing, staring at me from knee-height while I stood sighing with relief. One engaged me in earnest conversation while we both aimed at the porcelain. I caught ‘granpa’ mkhulu and ‘elephant’ ndlovu, so I just nodded and agreed. I’m sure it was complimentary.
You’re a star, well done! I said to teacher as I left. She grinned and told the next four to go in, trying in vain to get them to pee duets, but they carried on going one at a time. Obviously soloists.
As I left another teacher was taking their pics one by one in front of the huge bronze bust of Oom President Paul Kruger!
Teachers are under-rated.
~~oo0oo~~
The image is kids from Skukuza primary school on a litter cleanup day – thanks, Citizen newspaper
This time we must remember to take photos, Dad! Especially one of us in a recognisable place – a nice backdrop. Right, Jess.
Lots of eles, including one herd heading north in a long straggling line through the bush, crossing in front of us twice, thanks to a dogleg in the road. I counted fifty, but Jess, who hadn’t counted, said, No Dad, there were about fifteen! So I said OK there were forty. Luckily I took a video of one of the batches moving past – added below.
We give eles lots of room, as Jess is very cautious of them. Even at a good hundred metres a few of the young males gave us the Hey! Watch Yourself! ear shake.
Lots and LOTS of warthogs, all happily covered in mud. One sounder had longer crests/manes than usual – and light, like blonde – looked like Rod Stewart as a quintuplet. Seven square-lipped rhino; One mama with a small calf crossed right in front of us – no photo!
Surprisingly, a number of birds considering the stiff breeze that blew all day. We considered taking lunch in the car, but Sontuli picnic site is sheltered, so we used the last available table. Good to see a number of people having lunch there, parking an assortment of very capable and well-modified 4X4 vehicles with raised suspension and knobbly tyres next to the Fiat Unos that keep them humble.
Another photo missed by staring-in-awesome-wonder was a gathering of vultures on a wide sandy beach on a bend in the Black Mfolosi River, sunning and sand-bathing. Joined by Woolly-necked Storks, Pied Crows, Blacksmith Lapwing and Yellow-billed Kites.
– same stretch of river, different visit –
Also saw buffalo, wildebeest, zebra, giraffe banging heads, baboon, impala, nyala and kudu (only one); Went on a detour in search of cheetah, sent by an excited lady on her own in a bakkie who said we couldn’t miss them. The spot she thought the group of four cats would obligingly wait for us was about twenty minutes away. But Jess wanted to go so of course we did. The friendly lady hadn’t nailed them down so they’d felt free to wander off. Still, nice drive on a road we don’t usually use as it’s an entrance route from the western Gengeni gate which we have only exited twice to explore the interesting Ulundi to Melmoth road.
