Bloody fireworks!! I had Jessie the daughter and Sambucca the black labrador in my room.
Tom was part of the problem, firing off some of his own at a mate’s house in Umlazi. He’d gone to visit them knowing there’d be more ACTION than at home.
I fetched him about 11am New Year‘s day. “Ha! Dad! he says “You think white people can drink!?” he says. “You aint seen NUTHING! “
Says there was lots of staggering and shouting. They were hauled in to sleep around midnight, waited till Ma Sukude was asleep then snuck out thru the window and joined the festivities till the wee hours.
Can’t think WHERE he gets it from . . .
He was fine, just very sunburnt – tyre-rubber black neck and heat rash from the two days he was there – they spent their time outdoors, not like here where he’s a caveman.
Pig, chicken, potatoes, beans. And champagne. Clean forgot the salad but it wasn’t missed. We had two types of gammon: Slices from Woolworths and a whole one cooked by Dad, who had – horrors – mistakenly bought an uncooked gammon and had to cook it this morning. Once it had been the oven an hour or so, I read the instructions: ‘Boil in a big pot of water . . .
A Best Gammon Vote was taken and – bearing in mind they’re only getting their prezzies in January – the kids – unanimously; by a wide margin; and by popular acclaim; and unopposed – decide Dad’s was best. By far.
as sides: Lay’s chips in the packet; tomato sauce out of the bottle –
First puppy. That was TC whose name didn’t signify much but we couldn’t think of another and settled on TC which teasingly was for “Terrible Canine” or “Terrific Canine”. Maybe the character from the TV show Magnum P.I influenced the name too. She was born on Melrose Farm of Mouse the Jack Russell by that he-man and character Stan the dark Staffie and was a gift from Dave and Goldie Hill, new parents of Tatum at the time. This was December 1988.
Stan with Goldie; Mouse with Tatum:
– dogs aren’t allowed on the bed at 7 River Drive – much . .
TC with her siblings before weaning:
We still lived in a flat but were moving into a house soon. Flat life suited TC:
– Top Dog surveys her domain –
But so did the great outdoors:
And even though three younger new arrivals outgrew her . . .
She outlasted two of them and remained Top Dog:
Her big friend and sparring partner was Tess the bull terrier from next door. Great mates they were, but occasionally when we near they’d go at each other with much snarling and hound-dog insults.
Once I held Tess high overhead with TC attached to her leg in a firm bite, both growling furiously, then dumped them in the deep end of the pool before they would quit their nonsense!
TC lived to fifteen, outliving Matt and Bogart. She is buried at 7 River Drive Westville on the banks of the Mkombaan river under a kanniedood tree, the paperbark commiphora (was Commiphora harveyi). She just got old and tired and slower and thin, and died quietly in her basket one evening.
On Saturday, January 18, 2014, I wrote reasonably:
Subject: A PBH solution
for the PHBrauers of the world
I’ve been very worried
about people driving Audis into school walls, but I feel a bit better
now, as a Pretoria Boys High (PBH) boykie has put his mind to a
solution for the big Audi / Brauer problem and here’s what he has
come up with:
Google is not the only company that thinks auto-piloted cars are the future. Tesla has estimated that their time frame for having automated cars on the road is ‘within the next 3 years.’ So Elon Musk says we could be seeing cars running on auto-pilot as soon as 2016.
And none too soon!!
This way we could have inebriation AND safety . . among certain
elderly drivers.
~~oo0oo~~
Steve Reed wrote enquiringly:
Regarding Audis getting
driven into school walls, I need to be updated in this regard.
~~oo0oo~~
Brauer quickly jumped
in and wrote defensively:
Would you like an accurate version or will you settle for Koos’ ‘Clive Nel’-ified version?
~~oo0oo~~
I calmly wrote the
simple truth:
All I’m saying is,
The ingredients were:
– Golf;
– Beer;
– an Audi sedan;
– a school
wall.
The results
were:
– Damage to two of the above (the elderly greying culprit / suspect escaped largely unharmed due to being limp at point of impact).
– Lo-ong boring tales
of walls ambushing unsuspecting cars in the depths of Gramadoelas
suburb in Tswanie at the dead of night; * yawn *
~~oo0oo~~
Culprit / Suspect Brauer wrote:
Total distortion of facts. ‘Twasn’t beer. . . . whiskey, mate.
~~oo0oo~~
I fretted:
That’s a worrying
development. I get worried when people start drinking stuff that
slides down easily and stinks less when belched up. I feel that beer
and red wine allow your companions to know more about your drinking
habits, and give earlier warnings about ‘when’s enough’. Just by
looking at his white flokati rug one night Mike Lello knew a lot
about Milk Stout and the Rainbow Club.
~~oo0oo~~
Interloper Bruce Soutar
now jumps in with his tuppence worth:
At the RAINBOW Jazz Club in the Pinetown taxi rank they serve their beers in ‘quart’ bottles (750ml). One special and memorable night The African Jazz Pioneers were playing, and Swanepoel ordered a Castle. He noticed the guys next door were drinking Black Label and saw theirs was 5,5% alcohol while Castle was only 5%, so he ordered a Black Label next. Then he saw some okes drinking Milk Stout and noticed that was 6% alcohol so he smoothly oozed over to Milk Stout and then stuck with it. All the while the African Jazz Pioneers were playing their seductive swinging special jazz. Many, many milk stouts later we decided to gate crash Mike Lello for a ‘last drink’ on the way home.
They were sitting down
to supper when we staggered in. Pete S was feeling hungry, sat in
Mike’s chair and polished off his supper. Then had an urge to burp? .
. . but did not quite make the toilet bowl. Hence the
flocked–up-carti rug.
~~oo0oo~~
Public Service Notice: This hugely exaggerated story is to be taken with a large pinch of salt. But as interesting aside, you can see what it MIGHT have looked like under a microscope.
~~oo0oo~~
I objected:
TMI !! As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted: Self-driving cars for the elderly – that’s what we need.
So I’m on Noakes’ diet – well, eating plan. OK – Trying to follow his advice, sort of.
Well, actually just trying to cut down on my sugar. Eating tons more bacon.
Cutting down on your sugar intake is a good thing, sure . . but what if it’s delicious?!
So Marc is in our garden cottage while he’s learning to be a chef at the international hotel school up the road. Lovely chap, son of canoeing friend Kelway Tanner, and already hired by Zimbali to cook for them.
When I get home he says –
Here you go – Today was “desserts” and I made this for you.
Sitting minding my own business on the way home and CRASH! Right up the rear. It was a dominee of sorts. Pastor, Preacher, Holy Man, you know the type. One of those churches I am highly critical of. You know PTL – No, not Praise The Lord, Pass The Loot.
I was OK:
Him? Well, bless him:
I dunno. You’d think the Lawd or the guardian angel would install those proximity sensors in dominee’s cars so even if they’re perusing their holy cellphones the car would glide to a safe halt with auto-braking. No?
Anyway, aren’t guardian angels meant to sit on your shoulder? Why didn’t his shout, Whoa!? or better, earlier on, Hey man, put down your phone!?
‘Smorning I went for the worst nature walk I’ve been on in my laaf! This was May 2015. I knew I shouldna gone, but friends said come and I thought ‘don’t be a recluse all your life.’ So forty fools wandered through a coastal grassland and riverine forest starting long after 9am. Brats as young as three scurrying around underfoot. NOT my style!
Not a leaf stirred, not a birds turd.
Got home at noon and saw more birds and blomma cheese in ten minutes than on the whole 2,5hr walk. We live and don’t learn.
Make no mistake, Roosfontein is a beautiful grassland and riverine spot and well worth a visit. Early morning best, small group best. Ah, well, I took Jess along and she got some exercise.
– Roosfontein Jessie –– too late in the day, too crowded –
feature pic on top is from Amblers hiking club – thanks!
~~~oo0oo~~~
One year later, a decades-long struggle by environmentalists finally succeeded with the official proclamation of the Roosfontein Nature Reserve.
The nature reserve, which will now be preserved for future
generations, borders the Westville Prison and is being preserved to
protect the endangered rare dwarf chameleon, North Coast grasslands and
medicinal plants.
The land had been earmarked for a golf course, stadium and casino in
the past, but environmental activists fought for its preservation.
Richard Boon, manager in biodiversity planning at the eThekwini
Municipality, said the nature reserve covered 213 hectares, with a
further 20 hectares near the nature reserve earmarked for housing
projects.
Dr Debra Roberts, deputy head of environmental planning and climate
protection, said it was a joyous moment that the reserve had finally
been proclaimed such and recounted how they had negotiated with the
Westville mayor pre-1994 not to misuse the land.
She said the challenge for Durban and African cities now was to
create uniquely African cities that were not made in the image of
mini-European cities.
“We’ve had to decolonise our minds,” she said. “We need to be
uniquely African, like when you go to Rio or Nairobi, they have huge
natural parks and savannahs. Our cities have to be different and must
play a different role.
“Look at the beautiful grass hills, these are a valuable resource. That is why a golf course on that land was not part of building an African city, that is why we started lobbying 30 years ago, we said we think this is valuable and we need to protect it for the future and keep Roosfontein free of development,” she said.
I went to my GP Steve the other day – a month or two ago – because the world is populated with arseholes and I wondered if he could do anything about it. Y’know, fix them?
Fool gave me a pill to take in the morning. I think he’s losing his touch.
Anyway, I’m reminded about it because I just read about an artist in Slaapstad who calls herself Lady Skollie. She paints some intelligent, challenging shit. This one she calls:
**** ‘Modern day Ophelia but with calming pills, pain pills and get over your fucking-self pills’ ****
I liked that.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Funnily enough, the world does seem a bit better behaved lately. You think Steve knew something . . ?
My man Tobias Gumede has lost seven of his herd, once twenty five-strong, in the drought. He lives downstream of the Jozini dam on the Makathini floodplain on the right bank of the Pongola river. Not on the riverbank, but some kms away.
– cattle seen in the vicinity on a previous visit – not the Gumede herd –
His son Mpilo is his herdsman and the poor fella is certainly putting on mileage as the cattle venture ever-further in search of grazing. Lately where they have found grazing there’s no surface water, so every few days they turn round and head off near home to drink. He gets home on average every third night for a meal and a bed, leaving early the next day to get back to the cattle wherever they are.
That’s when you really have to know your cattle as there are no fences and they can mingle with anyone else’s herd. Good thing Marguerite Poland recorded all the names of the coat patterns and horn shapes, and good thing her cousin Leigh Voigt painted them!
~~~oo0oo~~~
Winter – Now his son is home without the cattle. They have not been seen for weeks. They have headed off on their own.
October – The rains have arrived at last. The cattle are home again. Tobias estimates (he’s not good with exactness) they’re down to just eleven in number.
My bad. We arrived at the Mocambique border with Tommy’s passport, birth certificate, Aitch’s death certificate, a copy of my application for Tom’s unabridged birth certificate plus the receipt for same. No go. They wanted his unabridged birth certificate itself, or a letter saying we’d applied for it. “But here’s the application itself, and the receipt,” I protested. In vain. They could not change their instructions from higher up – fair enough. As usual, the higher-ups are not ‘on the ground.’ They’re higher up.
So it’s Christmas day and we’re looking for a place to stay. It feels kinda biblical. Reminds me of a story I heard in my youth. Everywhere we went was full. If there had been an inn, it would have to have been full too. We drove on to Bhanga Nek, sandwiched between the big Kosi Bay lake and the beach. I’m in my element in a brand-new Avis rented Ford Ranger 4X4 with six forward gears and push-button 4X4 transfer case on my favourite roads – the Maputaland Coastal Reserve’s sand roads. The kids would probably rather be in a different element, truth be told.
We get to the Bhanga Nek Beach (see above) and the Beach Camp. Full. We drive to the Community Camp. Full, thank goodness: What an uproar! Seems everyone has spent their entire xmas bonus on grog and they’ve already imbibed half of it. All are noisy, some are already staggery at noon.
Thulani sees me and lurches over, ice clinking in his glass. “I have a place where you can stay,” he says. I ask the whereabouts and recognise it as a village we passed a couple of kms back. He hops in and guides me there. Doesn’t spill a drop of his drink on the bumpy – no, undulating – sandy road. He’s done this before.
It’s a lovely rustic chalet in Bhanga Nek Village. Not palatial, but not mangery neither. Real beds or bunks, not cribs. We eat and sleep. Not a single mozzie! It has been booked for the next night, so we’re back on those wonderful sand roads in the morning, vehicle in 4WD High Ratio second gear and easing along like a dream. Did I mention I’m in my element, happy as a melodious lark?
“Wow! I say, “Look at that!” pointing at stuff. Huh? What? “That view!” Oh, Yes Dad. Whatever. Those in the back seat pat me on my bald spot.
– Bhanga Nek beach and cottage –
The drive back was along my favourite roads in South Africa, through coastal grasslands dotted with umdoni trees. Paradise. Easing along effortlessly in 4WD high ratio second gear, barely touching the accelerator, barely touching the steering wheel, the tyres guided in the twin tracks in the sand. Again I said to the kids, “Isn’t this amazing!?”
Huh? they said, looking up and looking around. What? OK Dad.
Pearls before swine.
I told them Aitch and I would park on the road where Mdoni trees cast their shadows and have something to eat or drink till we heard a car coming, which was seldom. They were interested in that. Oh, Mom has been here? That makes things slightly better. They love any stories about their Mom.
– thanks, strayalongtheway.com for the beaut image –
Then we got to the very best part of that sandy road, where it cuts between the high dunes lining the Indian Ocean beaches and the shore of Lake Sibaya. Too beautiful driving under high shady trees with clear turquoise fresh water of the lake and white sandy beaches right next to the road.
We then cut through Mkhuze game reserve on the way home, enetering by the less-used NE gate. Three of the youngest little warthoglets we’ve ever seen ‘on the hoof’ ran behind they Ma. Tiny little piglets running with tails erect. Look! They’ve got signal, the kids say enviously, giggling.
– Kosi Bay to Mkhuze map with warthoglets –
A week or two later, back home, I overhear Tom gently mocking my organisational skills, and telling his mate where he knew I could overhear, “My Dad took us to Bangladesh for Christmas.“ I had to grin.
*sigh* At least they do love their home, that’s no maybe!
Should’n have asked, should’n have asked, should have gone to a game reserve . . . Jess decided she wanted an ocean cruise for her eighteenth birthday. Tom was cool with that for his fourteenth birthday, so off we went.
I checked with friend and veteran cruiser Craig and booked the four night cruise to Portuguese Island in Maputo Bay in Mocambique on the MSC Sinfonia.
Lots of queueing – LOTS!
What a bay!
– ferried ashore – There’s Milibangalala on the horizon! On the way back we had sunny weather.
The cruise north was rainy, so the kids had indoor fun. Jess took to quaffing cocktails at the various bars. Hey! She’s eighteen now! And the nice barmen didn’t need money, they just swiped her room key card.
Tom focused on the meals, making sure we got to where we needed to be and using the pizza and burger cafes in between meal times.
The highlight was going ashore on Portuguese Island in rubber ducks, having a swim and lunch onshore.
– two us are lovin’ this! –
On the beach a huge group of people formed a square and danced to some catchy tune. We swam and walked. I could see Jess actually wanted to join the dancers. But she didn’t. She just watched and watched and swayed in time to the music. Little did I know that tune was going to come back to haunt me!
– hamba nawe –
Back on the boat an obviously Durban family walked past us chatting to their friends about going for a jacuzzi; I had seen the jacuzzi and thought “Good luck”; Minutes later they were back to where we were sitting and told their friends “Hey you can’t even go in there, it’s CHOCKED!” Elbow-to-elbow people. Bum-cheek to bum-cheek. Every facility was crowded, every deckchair taken.
The kids loved the experience and I survived it, so all good.
~~oo0oo~~
IMO, Cruising is hell.
Update: More people experienced gastrointestinal illnesses while aboard a cruise ship in 2024 than any other year since 2012. Hurgh!
Tobias is a grandfather. Sphamandla has a little boy, healthy and ‘very big’.
I told him he’s a kehla now. “You can call me mkhulu” he said in the same unbelieving way I said “Now I’m a pensioner” this last birthday.
Eish! Where’s the emergency brake?
.
‘course my coming-of-age party was ruined in that I’ve been offered pensioners discount for the past twenty years already by sumbitches who obviously need spectacles.
– actually, mkhulu Tobias still looks much like this, taken some years ago –
– click on pic to see my fiery jackal with a slit throat in the embers –
While I was pitching camp Jess came running to me with a horrified look on her face. She must have seen a snake or a leopard, I’m sure.
“DAD!!” she says breathlessly, horrified, stricken. “DAD!! There’s no wifi here!!”
Her idea of hell.
~~oo0oo~~
Embarrassing note: I am good at giving advice. If you ask me – actually you don’t even need to ask – I will tell you what the MOST IMPORTANT thing is to take camping.
The FIRST thing you pack when you go camping is a deck chair.
I know this cos my pal Greg Bennett told me back in 1983 on my first Duzi Canoe Marathon. He said “Pete, you can forget everything else but take a deck chair. The most important comfort item you can take is your deck chair,” he said. I have since pontificated on this very often.
So on this trip to Mkhuze: I forgot the ducking feckchairs.
The girls sat on ammo boxes. I sat on the tailgate. Greg is right: You can’t lean back and snooze on a tailgate.
~~oo0oo~~
And we FINALLY saw an ele in Mkhuze! One lone elephant. I was beginning to think there were none left. He was across a little bay in Nsumo Pan. His one leg was wounded. Thru our binnies we could see what looked like a deep, healed snare wound right round his foot.
Sister-in-law Janet in Maun sent this: As you know, Duncan is project manager for Beks Ndlovu’s company African Bush Camps. He is currently refurbishing the camp we stayed at with Trish in Jan 2010 – Somalisa in SE Hwange.
This week Duncan wrote to Beks: “FYI . . Jurassic is causing a nuisance in camp. Broke into the new storeroom to get cabbages and potatoes. Then did the same to the new Acacia kitchen on Monday night. I believe quite a lot of damage and refused to be chased away.”
Beks wrote: Our project manager Duncan Elliott, who has spent many years in the bush building safari camps, sent me this message tonight whilst I was on vacation in Australia. Jurassic, by the way is an elephant at Somalisa who has a seriously warped sense of humor. He eats guests’ soap and toothpaste and refuses to go by our general ground rules . . He has a mind of his own!
I can’t help but reflect that today we have these encounters with wildlife and here is what I sent back to Duncan:
“What fun and games… You are amongst very few people in this world that can tell that kind of story? Do you think your grandchildren might have the same stories in years to come? Please kindly ask Jurassic to understand we have a new camp to open in less than a week and since he is family he needs to understand FHB ( family holds back)!”
This time in winter. Tom loved it. Caught many small blacktail, karanteen, bronze bream, one shad and stayed on the rocks for hours. I had to fetch him and march him to the showers threatening not to feed him till he smelt civilised.
Jess and friend Jordi lay in their tent and watched videos. Could just as well have been at home. Then she asked to go home a day early, after four nights instead of five. Tom said fine so we got home today instead of tomorrow. Suits me.
When we got there Monday I found I had only forgotten the tent poles, the flysheet, the groundsheet, the kettle and the food, but otherwise we were Be Prepared. Like Boy Scouts. .
So we ate at the restaurant, the girls slept in the back of the bakkie, Tom slept on the front seat and I slept under the stars. It rained, but I was warm despite my ear filling up. Tuesday I went home and fetched the above-mentioned – easy when you’re holidaying only an hour south of home comforts. We were snug as bugs thereafter. Beep repaired.
~o0o~
Steve:
Get the kids to put together a check list for next camping trip while the discomfort is still fresh in their memories…. Tape it to the inside of the bakkie. And put them in charge of “equipment”
Yeah right, Just joking. my two would just roll their eyes…
(They both arrived last night on a flight from Auckland)
Ending the trip a day earlier – sounds familiar. I think it happens when the home comforts beckon.
Specially that new bathroom.
~o0o~
Kathy: Thats so funny ! We forgot our tentpoles too once and had to crash on some poor chalets carpet as it was 4 hours from home . All five of us . very embarressing . But you beat me here ! Nice fishing Tom , Leo would be so jealous . Those two must fish together one day . And you know , kids, there is dad – killing himself and sleeping in the rain and they wanna watch videos and go home early . I can picture mine saying that too . I’d force them all to stay and we’d pull faces at each other for 2 days . You’re much wiser . We had this grim holiday in Port Alfred once where it rained nonstop and was freezing . J got flu and depression and stayed in bed . I tortured the kids for a week until J persuaded me to give up and go home . He drove back so fast and only stopped once for a sandwich – no peeing allowed . You win some , you lose some .
Dad open up its urgent! Midnight at home, a bang on the front door.
Lots of blood all over him. He’s bleeding from a deep cut on his lower eyelid and a nick in the lid margin. My handsome boy is now handsome and, uh, interesting.
‘I fell against the metal deep freeze drawers.’ Damn! I’d meant to put those drawers back in the deep freeze. He and a mate were sleeping in the cottage on a Saturday night.
I staunch the bleeding and disinfect with gargle. It’s all I can find, we’ve re-arranged the house in the middle of renovations. Go to bed now, fella. Luckily only him injured, so I don’t have to please explain to any Moms of other 13yr-old boys.
Next morning I phone the ophthalmic surgeon on call. On the way to his rooms at Parklands hospital I say, “OK level with me: What happened?” I had seen shards of glass and found a broken bottle hidden behind the bed.
Two boys. A champagne bottle. ‘We couldn’t get the cork off.’ A tussle. ‘The wet bottle was slippery. We dropped it. It exploded.’
The eye man checks Tom and pronounces him OK. No stitch needed. Lucky lil bastids.
That was Sunday. On Monday his mates nicknamed him Scarface.
