Tobias Gumede got a call from his kids at his umuze out on the Makathini Flats north of Jozini: Three of his prize cattle have been slaughtered. Chopped with a bush knife, he says.
His wife Thulisiwe will be devastated. She runs the home very carefully based on her herd, always reluctant to sell an animal for cash, doing so only when really necessary.
He estimates the loss at over R10 000 per animal, as they were large ones. Thulisiwe will probably try and mitigate the loss by selling some of the meat and freezing some. Thank goodness for electricity and a fridge.
On the way to Tobias Gumede’s umuzi north of Jozini on the Makathini Flats of the Pongola river floodplain, you pass a nyanga’s advertising billboard. He can sort out all your problems.
Not all his own, though. So he died, and the new nyanga re-wrote the miraculous promises when we last went there.
We were doing our annual delivery of a trailer-load of stuff Tobias had accumulated, mostly furniture and building materials. Last year’s lot had been put to good use by his amazing wife Thulisiwe, and their home had been upgraded. Here you can see old and new entrance, now with a better covered porch:
– before and after –
Leaving his home and continuing north you cross the Pongola where a magnificent old fig suffers the depredations of progress, erosion exposing its roots to a dangerous degree.
We headed on to Tembe Elephant Park. We’d fetch Tobias on the way back.
~~oo0oo~~
That new nyanga sign says (take my translation with a hefty pinch of salt):
his gift we built
(can’t) stop
that which advances
the big (important) traditional doctor
~~oo0oo~~
April 2018: Tobias has just walked in. He has come to work straight from the hospital where they measured his blood pressure: 204 over 124! I sat him down and told him, Don’t Move until that BP is down! So, much to his dismay, he’s under house arrest today. He has taken his muti and will take again tonight and tomorrow, then we’ll see if we can release him! But I’m fine! he protests, so I tell him in gruesome detail what high BP can do to you, with a graphic artistic demonstration when I got to the ‘fall down dead’ stage. ‘Twas a powerful performance.
Later: I bought a supply of his two tablets and kept them at home with strict instructions: If you forget to take your tablets at home, take them here. Never miss! Yebo baba.
March 2020: On his last day before the COVID-19 lockdown I gave him his spare tablets to take home.
Now it’s April 2021 and he assures me he takes them faithfully. I tested his understanding: When you hear a man has suddenly died, what usually killed him? He couldn’t answer right away and I prompted him. Then he remembered:
Oh yes! The ‘PRESSURE!‘ Yep, Take Your Pills Every Day, I droned.
~~oo0oo~~
UPDATE ca. 2024: Tragically, I hear from friend Ian that dear Tobias has had a massive stroke. Can’t speak, can’t walk. His longed-for retirement dream at his beautiful homestead with his wife, his cattle and his crops in ruins. Accessing a clinic would have been harder out on the remote floodplain, I spose.
Tobias worked for Ian before he worked for me, then worked for both of us till lockdown.
Cecilia went home in March, as did Tobias. We thought it was for three weeks of COVID lockdown, but it turned out to be forever.
So now at last I was going to take the mountain of stuff she had accumulated while staying here, to her home in Mtwalume. She has always said she lives in Mtwalume. So with my white Ford Ranger loaded to the gunwales in the canopy and inside the cab – everywhere but my drivers seat, I headed south on the N2 highway. When I got to Mtwalume, I turned off the highway (1) – and phoned her.
‘OK, I’m at the Mtwalume turnoff. Where to from here?’
‘Go straight. There is a white cottage.’
Hm, there are about a dozen cottages, two or three are white. OK, which turnoff must I take – is this the right turnoff?
‘Go to Hibberdene, then look for Ghobela School.’ Ah, OK.
Back to the highway, seven kilometres later I turned off the downramp to Hibberdene (2); then turned right, turned right after Ghobela, turned right again past ‘Arts and Crafts’ and – just as she had said – there was a white cottage (3). Actually, two or three. Then there she was herself. Cecilia! Follow me, she indicated up a rough track.
I reversed up it, soon ran out of traction, engaged difflock and then eventually even that was no go. My wheels were spinning and when cow dung splattered on my rearview mirrors I stopped and we unloaded about thirty metres short of her house on top of the hill. Lots and lots of stuff.
The week before she’d come to Westville for our fourth attempt at satisfying the UIF requirements. This time we made payslips to match her Jan, Feb and March bank statements. Till today, still no luck. At least I could tell her to keep going, as Tobias had received a lump sum payment the week before!
The very next day she messaged me: ‘Morning Daddy. I hope you go well yesterday. I got my uif now. We thank you sir.’
Bruce sent this: always mow the lawn after 3pm. Then the dog turds are dry !!
….
Me: Hosed myself!! Just picked up some steaming ones this mornin’ Strategically placed by Sambucca the black labrador where I’m most likely to step in them.
I just KNOW she’s thinking “Ooh! UGHHHH! There! He can’t miss that one”.
….
Jon Taylor wrote:
Very thoughtful dog u have. But time to delegate the task.
….
Me again:
A few years ago I offered Tobias R10 a day to do it Mon, Wed & Thursday. I figured it wasn’t part of his JD, so when I asked him I added a carrot. He said “Sure!” He’s no fool.
I offered my kids R5 a day to do it on the other four days. I got, “NO WAY” “Yecch!” “She’s not my dog, Dad!” ….
‘A gardener’s wisdom’ reminds me of my Clarens mate Steve Reed’s quiet wisdom.
On windless days he’s apt to murmur poetically:
“Not a leaf stirred;
Not a dog stirred.”
(needs to be said out loud)
~~oo0oo~~
Roomerazzit dogs face north while crapping. Useful to know. Lost your compass? GPS battery flat? Find a dog doing his business: He’s facing North
So maybe that’s why they step around and fuss around before finally ‘assuming the position?’ They’re aligning themselves with the Earth’s magnetic field. Aaah!
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 –
Tomatoes screened against vervet monkey raids. These powder-blues have been sending in the troops this winter as the drought bit hard. I put food out for them early mornings before they wake on the boundary so they discover it “by chance”.
The hydroponic spinach under shade cloth – makes the most wonderful mfino for my phutu.
Out in the open – Share and share alike, I tell Tobias Gumede. He grins and shakes his head.
