Gardening for Birds n Frogs n Butterflies n Goggas

Aitch learnt the joy of indigenous plants on the Bluff in 1985 when doing her cardio-vascular perfusion-ing at Wentworth hospital. Ian Whitton, friend and cardio-thoracic surgeon, indigenous gardener and nurseryman extraordinaire, piglet-producer, protea grower, pigeon-fancier, erythrina expert and all-round good friend took her under his wing taeching her about Natal trees and birds. She needed it as a Capie new to KwaZulu Natal. She phoned me breathless one day to describe a new bird she had in her binocs: ‘Koos! Its beautiful! It has a yellow beak, its purply-brown with a black head and it has a bright yellow face. (see bottom of post)

– Aitch with TC & Bella; She sure loved her hounds (especially Bella, hey TC!) –

She also learnt from Kenyan, indigenous guru, horticultural landscaper, author, visionary and gardener Geoff Nichols; She collected seeds and swopped them for plants for and from horticulturalist Enver Buckus at Silverglen nursery; She worked for noted colonist, author, canoeist, British apologist, acrylic painter and Last Outpost historian Geoffrey Caruth Esq Duke of Bhivane at his Geoff’s Jungle Indigenous Nursery enthusiastically selling shade plants; She joined BotSoc (now the Biodiversity Society) and got very involved, especially in the annual big plant sale, working with Sandra, Wally Menne, Jean Senogles, Dave Henry, Diane Higginson, etc; She spent fifteen years ‘botanising’ (as they called it) with Barry Porter on his and Lyn’s Hella Hella game farm. We went there at every opportunity. It became our second home. They would roam the farm spotting and photographing plants and flowers with their posteriors pointing at the heavens, occasionally digging up one for culture with Porter’s Powerful Patented Plant Pincher**, a handy device Barry had welded together to make extracting small plants easy and less destructive. Barry taught us to use Eugene Moll’s tree-ID book using leaves to ID the trees of Natal.

Our first property was 7 River Drive Westville, already mostly indigenous thanks to Mike and Yvonne Lello. On the banks of the Mkombaan River, it was paradise unfenced. We rooted out invasives and aliens and planted the right stuff as directed by Geoff Nichols. On his first visit he told me sternly, pointing ‘over there’, to ‘Get rid of that inkberry.’ You know how Geoff is. Right! Sir! A month later on his next site inspection he said ‘You haven’t got rid of that inkberry!’ Oops! True. So I undertook to do it that week.

A few days later I set to with my bow saw, sawing off all the branches and then cutting down the 100mm trunk just above the ground, Then I garlon’d that and composted the bits n pieces. Phew! Done! Finally!

A month later Geoff was back. ‘Who the hell cut down the tassleberry?!’ he bellowed. ‘And you STILL haven’t got rid of the inkberry!’ I never lived that one down. We planted five tassleberries to make up for it. They have male and female trees, so that was best anyway. I am pleased – relieved – to report they did well over the next fifteen years!

Aitch didn’t mind a bit of attention, so when our garden was chosen to be on display for Durban Open Gardens she blossom’d n preened and was in her element! She LOVED showing people around the garden and re-assuring them that it was quite safe* even if it did look a bit wild. In fact she would keep the entrance and pathway to the front door and pool very tame, civilised and trimmed so as not to scare people and put them off wild gardening. The hidden parts of the garden could go wild and host the 112 species of birds we recorded in the garden over the fifteen years we lived there. For 32 of those species we saw nests or fledglings.

7 River Drive garages from Burnside (Heather & Gordon Taylor's place)
– 7 River Drive garages from Burnside (Heather & Gordon Taylor’s place) – the exotics are mostly not ours –

We put in a bird bath outside our bedroom window and plumbed it to a high tap I could reach from my bedroom window to fine-choon as water pressure fluctuated; and left it running with a fine little spray of water for fifteen years. The birds loved it. Me too. The tap is visible against the far wall on the left; the birdbath is hidden behind Jess.

river-dr-jess-junge-gym-tap-for-birdbath.jpg
– there’s the high birdbath tap outside my bedroom window –
– the bank above the Mkombaan river – me Tom and Neil Humphrey, Aitch’s Dad, kind grandpa to Tom –

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*In fifteen years we saw one Natal Black Snake, two Brown Water Snakes, a few Herald Snakes, a resident House Snake, regular Spotted Bush Snakes, tiny Thread Snakes, a couple of Night Adders, and that was all. None of them really dangerous.

One year we decided to make a large pond by damming a little stream that flowed though our garden into the Mkombaan. It came to be called (by Aitch) ‘Koos’ Folly.’ In my defence, Nichols was involved in the planning. We built a substantial dam wall next to the Voacanga on the bank, covered in bidim felt and strong and long-lasting, creating a deep pond about 8m X 4m in size.

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– briefly a pond –

Which the very first flood filled it up to the brim with silt. One shot. Pond now a shallow little mudflat with most of the flow passing under it underground. I learnt: Don’t mess with watercourses.

– should be easy – right? – nope! silted up –

Some murdering had to happen. There was a mango tree in the grasslands and a fiddlewood behind the house. I bow-saw’d and de-barked and felled. Then I garlon’d. That would sort them out. Well, only years later did I finally get rid of the last shoots that kept sprouting. I developed a genuine respect for their kanniedood properties! A massive syringa on the banks of the Mkombaan I just ring-barked and garlon’d. No cutting. Two years later it crashed down across the river, bank-to-bank, forming a bridge you could walk across.

10 Elston Garden

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**Barry also made us a bird feeder, which he called Barry’s Bizarre Balancing Bird Bistro. More about Barry and Lyn here.

– Kiza spoils Jessie – Barry Porter’s Bizarre Balancing Bird Bistro in the background –

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kanniedood – hard to kill; later we planted a kanniedood Commiphora harveyi down where we buried the dogs

– image from provenpest.net –

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Namibia Birding Trip

Geoffrey Kay, birding optometrist, ‘ornithoptometrist’?, put together a trip to Namibia in 1986.

We landed in Windhoek, picked up a VW kombi and rigged it up with a nice big hebcooler in the back. Ice, beer, gin & tonic. Now we were ready for any emergency.

1986Namibia Birding Scopes.jpg

West to Daan Viljoen game park where a lion’s roar welcomed us that first night. On through the Khomas Hochland into the Namib Desert. Then on to the Atlantic Ocean at Swakopmund. On to Spitzkoppen; Usakos; Erongo Mountains; Karabib; Omaruru; Otjiwarongo; and Outjo;

Then up to Etosha: Okakuejo, Halali and Namutoni camps. In Etosha we saw a very rare night ‘bird‘; Seldom seen.

Then on to Tsumeb; the Waterberg; Okahandja; And back down to Windhoek.

Spot the kombi at the foot of the Spitzkoppen
Spot the kombi at the foot of the Spitzkoppen
Okakuejo camp
– in Okakuejo camp –

Geoff Kay, Jurgen Tolksdorf, Jill Seldon, Mick Doogan, Me & Aitch; Three optometrists and three normal people.

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Spot the kombi at the foot of the Spitzkoppen
1986 birding trip. Geoff, Jurgen, Mick, Jill & us two in a kombi

We spotted 200 bird species that week! Also a new mammal for me: The Damara DikDik.

white-faced owl

Jurgen Tolksdorf newbie birder spotted many birds for us with his keen eye. “What’s that?” he’d say. In Etosha one night we woke up to the b-b-b-b-bhooo of a white-faced owl near our tents. We shook everyone awake and grabbed our torches and binocs and went to look for it. Except Jurgen. He said “A WHAT?” and rolled over and went back to sleep with a snort. We searched in vain and got back to bed very late, disappointed.

After a short sleep, on our way back from breakfast we met Jurgen who had risen late after a long night’s sleep and was now on his way to eat. While we chatted he looked up in the tree above our heads and said “What’s that?”.

You know what it was, of course!

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Celestial Birding in Namibia

While we were birding in Namibia in 1986, a comet buzzed past us.

Englishman Edmond Halley, in his 1705 Synopsis of the Astronomy of Comets, used Newton’s new laws to calculate the gravitational effects of Jupiter and Saturn on cometary orbits. He realised that a comet that had appeared in 1682 was probably the same one that had appeared in 1531 (observed by Petrus Apianis), and 1607 (observed by Johannes Kepler). Halley concluded they were the same object returning every 76 years and predicted its return for 1758. He died in 1742 before he could observe this himself, but his prediction of the comet’s return proved to be correct! It was seen on 25 December 1758.

And then – significantly – again by us in Namibia in 1986, thus conclusively proving Halley was no poephol even if he was an Engelsman.

SO:

Petrus Apianis in 1531

Johannes Kepler in 1607

Edmond Halley in 1758 if he hadn’t died away – and . .

Petrus Koosie Swanie in 1986

We lay on our backs in Etosha on a beautifully clear night with our birding binocs and telescopes and had a good look at a tiny little fuzzball* far away while a white-faced owl went b-b-b-b-bhooo in the near distance. If the truth be told, our view of Halley’s looked more like one of the tiny dots in the right of this picture rather than the swashbuckling zooming thing on the left. But it did have a tail, so we convinced ourselves we HAD seen it. Halley’s Comet!!

Halley's Comet.jpg

*Even the keenest astronomers said the view of Halley in 1986 ended up being underwhelming in observations from Earth. When the comet made its closest approach it was still a faint and distant object, some 62 million km away. However, we humans did send a few spacecraft up which successfully made the journey to the comet. This fleet of spaceships is sometimes dubbed the ‘Halley Armada.’ Seven probes were up there looking, with the European Giotto craft getting closest – to within 596km. The Challenger space shuttle would have been the eighth but it blew up two minutes after it launched.

challenger explodes 1986
– Challenger kaput –

The Giotto got this pic of the 15km X 8km X 8km rock:

halleys-comet-giotto-photo

Halley’s is due again on 28 July 2061. I’ll be keeping a 106yr-old eye out.

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Racial Profiling

While staying in friend Ian Whitton’s lovely cottage outside Stanford near Hermanus, we visited the mission town of Elim and its mission station and tsurts (church) where missionaries came from afar to sternly remind the happy locals that they were actually deadly sinners. Also that they must eat like them, so they needed to build a watermill:

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– Jess adding flavour to the bread –
– that store –

In the village we stopped for some cooldrinks. The family decided to stay in the car as I ducked into a little village store. A line of little kids were sitting flat on their bums on the pavement leaning against the wall all in a row outside the door, watching me. Their backs against the green wall, they basked in the warm sun.

Four-year-old Jess changed her mind and ran after me, grabbing my hand as I drew level with the local gang. Where they’d looked at me rather disinterestedly, they now perked up. One dug her mate in the ribs with her elbow and exclaimed excitedly: “Kyk! Sy’s ‘n Hotnot!”

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We visited Stanford again in the winter:

Kyk! Sy’s ‘n Hotnot – Look! She’s one of us!

Our Woodworking Dynasty

The old man made a beautiful riempie bench, modeled after an old one he bought. He thought he’d make two, so that along with the old one he’d have three, the thought being to give one to each of his three beloved children. Here’s mine, newly re-riempied after the originals vrotted and frayed:

Made of blackwood; thickness’d on his big thicknesser and planed on his big plane; also blackwood legs, turned on his big lathe.

Then olive wood turnings for the backrest uprights; yellow wood inlays routed into the backrest with one of his routers; dovetail joints to hang it all together.

The original leather riempies were from a kudu he had shot in old South West Africa on a cousin’s farm. He had it skinned and brought the skin and the horns and the meat as biltong home to Harrismith in 1969. Then he took the skin to Marianhill monastery where it was tanned and cut into riempies. Apparently the monks n nuns like them some leather.

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Quite something! No wonder he suddenly wants it back, some forty to fifty years after the kudu died. Here he is with Mom in his woodwork shop/haven/retreat.

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He’d be so proud to see his grandson following in his footsteps, ably taught by his talented son. Bella, inspecting our work, is not so sure about the ‘talented’ part. She thinks maybe this helicopter will fly with a pronounced yaw.

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Aside: While watching the riempies being cut the old goat decided, ‘I can do that’ so he had a riempie cutter made for future use.

Riempie cutter

Never did happen, but then a huge part of his fascination was the tools. He once spent ages totally rebuilding a thicknesser someone had discarded and he had salvaged. It didn’t ever get used again, but he loved taking it apart, fixing it and putting it back together. Metalwork friends made some replacement parts for him and he changed protective covers from aluminium to plexiglass so you could SEE the parts! It was a shame to craft new parts then hide them. The finished tool looked great, wish I had taken pictures.
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vrotted – rotted, just more impressively. Well, they were over forty years old before they were even used, then did service for – I dunno – about ten years. Very seldom sat on, must admit. Mostly just looked at and admired.

Happy Noo Yeah!

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.

My Man

When did Saffers . .

. . start thinking of going on “trips up north” ?

As a colonial, I had long contemplated making an expedition into the regions north of the Cape Colony and Natal, but not until that year was I able to see my way clear to accomplish it.
At that time the Cape Colony was not so well known as it is now, and Natal much less; more particularly beyond its northern boundary, over the Drakensberg mountains, for few besides the Boers had ever penetrated beyond the Free State and Transvaal; and when on their return journey to Maritzburg, to sell their skins and other native produce, I had frequent conversations with them, the result was that nothing was known of the country beyond their limited journeys. This naturally gave me a greater desire to visit the native territories, and, being young and full of energy, wishing for a more active life than farming, although that is active during some part of the year, I arranged my plans and made up my mind to visit these unknown regions, and avail myself of such opportunities as I could spare from time to time to go and explore the interior.

That’s a quote from Andrew A. Anderson in his book “Twenty-Five Years in a Waggon in South Africa – Sport and Travel in South Africa”. * He started his trek in August 1863.

wagon

So the answer I suppose, is: As long as we’ve been here.

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Well, as colonials we had also long contemplated making an expedition into regions north, so in 2003 we finally got off our butts and went.

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Back to our Andrew A Anderson: He left Natal and sallied into the Vrystaat, stopping first at a soon-to-be-famous town.

‘The great change in climate and vegetation is very perceptible on leaving fair Natal for the cold, dreary, open, and inhospitable Free State. Harrysmith, in 1863, was a poor, dull, sleepy, town, only supported and kept alive by a few transport riders on their way to the Transvaal and the small villages of the Free State. Hmph! what did ‘e know!?

‘I remained two days to gain news and information about the locality, and the various roads to the north; game being plentiful in all directions, principally blesbok and springbok, wildebeest or gnu, quaggas, hartebeest, and others. The ostrich was also plentiful. I decided to follow the game up, taking the advice of my Natal friend, who had recently returned from his shooting excursion. I took the road leading east, and less frequented than the others, which eventually leads to the newly-formed town of Wakkerstroom.

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Later, Anderson relates a story he heard – second hand:

‘As an instance of their boldness at times, for, generally speaking, they (lions) are cowardly, the following was related by Mr Botha, a respectable, educated Boer farmer, and is quite true. It happened to his uncle.‘

“Journal.—Apes river, between Pretoria and  Waterborg. Arrived at the Outspan, remained until next night at twelve,  then started the waggon off on the springbok flats (twenty miles without  water). The party consisted of L. Botha, P. Venter, and the servants,  one waggon with span of sixteen oxen, one cart and two horses. Venter and Botha remained at the Outspan place with the cart and horses and a  bastard Hottentot boy called Mark, twelve years old.

“The waggon had been gone half-an-hour when they heard the rattling of wheels in a manner which made them think that the oxen must have had a ‘scrick’ (scare) from a lion, as that place is full of them. Mark, who was sleeping alongside the fire, was called up to bring the horses. The lazy fellows there won’t do anything themselves*, not even when there is a ‘scrick’ from a lion. They were soon going to render assistance to the waggon, going at a jog trot (even then they did not hurry*), when Mark, who was on the front seat, called out, ‘Baas, de esel byt de paarde’ (‘The donkey bites the horse’), and immediately the cart stopped, and a lion was seen clasped round the fore-quarters of the favourite horse. Before the gun was taken up, down went the horse; meanwhile the gun was levelled at the lion, but the cap missed. Another was searched for, but it would not fit, as it was small and the nipple a large military one. The lion now was making his meal off the horse, lying at his ease alongside the splash-board, eating the hind-quarter, Botha trying to split a cap to make it fit in vain; so Venter took the gun, and Botha made up powder with spittle to make it stick, and Venter was to take aim and Botha to do the firing with a match. Just as it ignited, the lion sprang right into the cart between them, and gave Venter a wound on the head and scratched his hand with his claw, and bit off a piece of the railing, sending the gun and Mark spinning out of the cart, and with that force that the lion fell down behind the cart. He then came round, as fast as he could, on to the dead horse, and continued his feed; but, not in the same cool manner, but making a growling, like a cat with meat when a dog is near, and now and then giving an awful roar, which made the cart, men, and all shake again. The other horse, which is a miracle, stood quite still, never attempting to budge an inch. After the lion had fed he went away, and Botha got out, intending to unharness the remaining horse, but no sooner was he on the ground than he heard the lion coming on again at full speed. He threw himself into the cart, and the lion stopped in front of the living horse, which tried to escape but was held fast by the pole-chain after breaking the swingle-trees. The lion gave one jump on to the horse, and with one bite behind the ears killed him. Botha was lying on the front seat, with his legs hanging down alongside the splash-board, when the lion came and licked the sweat of his horse off his trousers, but did not bite, Botha remaining quite still, which was the only chance, in the dog-cart from ten o’clock, when first attacked, until near daybreak, when the lion left;”

Saith Anderson: ‘This is a most remarkable case of boldness in a lion, when not wounded.’

*Anderson’s contempt for the Boers was typical of Poms. In ’25yrs in a Waggon’ he often writes disparagingly of them even while accepting their hospitality and gaining from their local knowledge.

This arrogance led to the ‘mighty British Empire’ suffering a crashing defeat against the Boers in the First Anglo Boer War in 1880.

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*Anderson’s book is free to read at Project Gutenberg.
Read about the amazing Project Gutenberg here.

Satellites – Where are they?

Look up and spot the satellites above you. How far are they? Well, if you could lift up the front of your car until it was standing on its exhaust pipe and then drive straight upwards, the nearest ones are only one hour’s drive away, assuming your car can go 160km/h. I’m sure mine could achieve that – on the way back.

Virgin Galactic is taking deposits (now) to fly you not quite so high (one day) for R2,5m.

Here are some distances to various satellites (that’s the International Space Station in the top pic, the one we drove to in an hour or two).

Altitude

Satellite Types

160-480km

shuttles, space stations, spysats, navsats, hamsats

480-960km

weather sats, photo sats

960-1 900km

spysats, military comsats, hamsats

4 800-9 600km

science sats

 1 000-19 000km

navsats (eg. GPS)

36 000km

communications, broadcast, weather (geo-stationary)

Those that stay in one position relative to earth (the ‘geo-stationary’ ones) are a bit further and it would take you about two weeks of non-stop driving to get to the DSTV satellite. If you get there, please switch off all those “reality” shows. So better pack some sarmies and a flask of coffee. And take blankets.

car in space_2.jpg

Two geo-stationary satellites.

On this scale the space shuttle and spysats are flat against the earth – you couldn’t see any space between them and earth they’re so close.

So: Ready to take a R2 500 000 ‘space’ flip, even though you won’t actually be going into space?

Virgin Galactic.jpg

The furthest ‘satellite’ you wouldn’t be able to drive to, though. It is now 20 640 000 000km away. Voyager 1 was launched in 1977. It’s more a ‘space probe’ and it’s flying away from us at about 17km per second. Voyager 1 is the first and only man-made object to have explored Uranus and Neptune, and to have left our solar system. A radio message from Voyager 1 now takes over 19hrs to reach us.

voyager-1.jpg

Update: Now Voyager 2 has also left our solar system. In December 2018 NASA announced the satellite, the only spacecraft to have visited all four gas giant planets — Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune — had joined its predecessor Voyager 1 beyond the bounds of our sun’s influence How’s that!? Travel at 17km per second for just 41 years and Zap! you’re out of our solar system! Just another 81 000 years and you’ll reach our nearest star, Alpha Centauri. Of course, you’d still be in the Milky Way, our own galaxy. Intergalactic travel? Now that’s another ballgame!

Mother Mary

born 18 September 1928

Islamic Fundamentals

When Aitch died it was two Muslim Moms that stepped forward and calmly and without fuss saved my butt. They re-organised their lift club to include me and kept me informed of what was happening at school. I did the morning ‘deliver’ school run every third week, while they shared the afternoon ‘fetch’ school run between them, insisting I needn’t do it as I was working and they were home Moms.

Then every year they’d give ME presents “to thank me for my help”! Five and a half years they just sorted me out, reminding me of events, juggling times when needed. We were all flexible, swopping times as needed by any of us in special circumstances.

They were fundamentally fantastic.

Thank you Sarah and Katie (Saarah and Katija)!

 

One gets forgotten

David Swanepoel was a wonderful lepidopterist back in the 1920’s to the ’60’s. He discovered many butterflies and some were named swanepoeli after him.

I wanted to find out more about him so went searching the ‘net for him (please don’t ‘google,’ use startpage.com or duckduckgo.com or qwant.com as more internet-friendly ways to search the internet).

Here’s what I got:

Candice Butterfly.jpg

Candice Swanepoel as a butterfly!

I then found this:

Mark Williams founded the SA Lepidopterists’ Society in 1983.

As a schoolboy in the mid-1960s Williams, accompanied by two friends, stumbled into a bush camp to find an old Chevy beside a tent and the well-known South African lepidopterist David Swanepoel, who had gorgeous azure butterflies pinned on a board.

Williams managed to annoy the old man, who had been collecting since the early 1900s, and who offered to show the boys where to find the creature. Though tantalized, Williams said he’d find it himself and watched in disgust as his two camping companions trotted after Swanepoel, “like obedient puppies.”

“He called me a hard head and a little bliksem and said I’d never find them. It took me three days. I worked my butt off.

“But I came back and held it up and said, ‘I found it.’ He leaned over conspiratorially and said: ‘Those other two will give up butterflies. But you will do this for the rest of your life.'”


And this:

David Abraham Swanepoel (1912–1990) began collecting in 1925.

His book Butterflies of South Africa—when, where and how they fly. Swanepoel DA (1953) Maskew Miller, Cape Town

There’s a David Swanepoel collection in the Transvaal Museum.

Dira swanepoeli – Swanepoel’s Widow – and Papillio ophidocephalus entabeni, were discovered in 1939 by Mr. D.A Swanepoel, after extensive collecting in the Soutpansberg, near Mountain View Hotel.

The feature pic is Swanepoel’s Brown, Pseudonympha swanepoelii with thanks to Steve Woodhall’s lovely Field Guide to Butterflies of South Africa.

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Sometimes one gets remembered – when your memory is jogged. Friend Steve Reed tells of talk in Clarens, Free State: When we lived in Clarens we had an annual visitation by what must have been the self-same Swanepoel: “Khaki clad solitary figure, fleet-footing round the village with his net like something out of Peter Pan. Regarded by the locals with great interest (and a good level of suspicion ) . . “

See Here

…

Names change. I see some of these names are no more according to Steve Woodhall’s authoritative list. Swanepoel’s Widow gone; braueri gone. Oh well, they were fun while they lasted!

Christmas Coprophagia

Christmas lunch for a Green-veined Emperor feasting on Sambucca’s labrador poo. Liked it so much it didn’t budge when I opened its wings with my fingers to see its upperside!

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Charaxes candiope

Charaxes candiope.jpg

The lesson: Don’t be too meticulous when mowing meadows.

~~~oo0oo~~~

The Old Pont

It’s 2015 and I’m on the banks of the Umtamvuna on the border of the old Transkei  and old Natal. It’s paradise. There’s a broad deep river, a great sunset and the sounds of herons, guineas and francolin settling for the night. Also a black cuckoo complaining he’s feeling indisposed.

All of it drowned out by my camping neighbours from BoksburgBenoniBrakpan whose fokkins are matched by the  local South Coast chicks’ fuckings. Loud music. LOUD. Did we ever play it this loud? Well yes, but it wasn’t a mixture of much-too-current  and rooi rokkies, bakgats, Meidjie en Lola.

‘Kinell!!

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At least my three 13yr-olds are in their element. They’re at the riverside on the wooden peir catching Africa, real crabs and imaginary fish.

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My second double G&T from the bar is helping, also a good book.

But it’s hard not to eavesdrop. One oke has just chooned a chick he met that evening she’s a fokkin’ pussy and another chick complained confidentially to her mate that “Mandy’s a problem when she gets drunk: She takes off all her clothes”. Obviously entirely a chicks-only problem, I think, peeping out of my tent.

The next night the gazebo next to our tent on the opposite side gets going. I meet a swaying Kehle nearly my age in the ablution block and over the communal urinal he tells me that he’s from ‘Toti and his wife works in Umthatha and they’re gathering with family and isn’t it *hic* WONDERFUL how peaceful and quiet it is here on the Umtamvuna compared to the din of the city *hic*? I would agree with him except I can hardly hear him as his party has a massive boombox thundering deep bass  while the ladies of the party are singing and ululating to an entirely different choon. The car is playing modern while the aunties are shouting traditional.

Squeaking through every now and then is the paid lone guitarist at the camp pub on the far side of the gazebo. He’s doing stuff I actually recognise – umlungu hits from the 70’s, but he’s losing the volume fight.

Later on the three 13yr-olds in our tent (I’m sleeping in the bakkie) get the giggles as they hear what’s happening around them.

Bloody hell! I’m looking forward to peace and quiet back in the city.

At least the nearby coast was peaceful:

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Bella Got Old

Bella became Aitch’s most beloved dog of all, eclipsing TC the Original and even Matt the Beloved. It was a tall order to take Matt’s place in Aitch’s heart but Bella did it by following her like a shadow, paying attention, winning her obedience classes – and by sheer longevity.

bella-old

She reached the ripe old age of seventeen years and died just before Aitch. She’s buried at 10 Elston Place; whereas TC, Matt and Bogart are all buried at 7 River Drive.

Here TC is not happy with this newfound nuisance! Not another black puppy that’s going to end up bigger than me! The third one!

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Aitch with TC & Bella; She sure loved her hounds (especially Bella, hey TC!)

In her final obedience trial at Canine Academy, she and Aitch got into the finals with a friend and her pedigree Alsatian. They were neck and neck until the time they had to do “go away” things (as opposed to “come here” things). Bella went as told; found what she had to; waited there until asked, then brought it to Aitch. Meantime the Alsatian stumbled a bit at that task. In congratulating her, her friend turned to Aitch and said, “If you asked Bella to fly, she would!”

Here’s Aitch with Bella facepaint, and both disguised as fairies, with haloes and wings:

– Bella’s main goal in life was to please this woman – Aitch shoulda stuck out her tongue and they’da been twins! –

~~~oo0oo~~~

Yuletide Munch

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.

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  • as sides: Lay’s chips in the packet; tomato sauce out of the bottle –

~~~oo0oo~~~