I remember clearly our first night in the house on the Springbok Vlakte. Unlike the city, we saw few lights in any direction. And the world was silent. Or so it seemed to ears that were used to the incessant humming and occasional hooters of traffic. I stood outside in
We had it all planned. We would have pomelos, oranges, naartjies and a few other kinds the names of which escape me. The first citrus trees, three pomelos and one lemon tree have done very well. The pomelos have been large and delicious and the trees have borne well. Not
Zora’s village got started a few years ago when the man in her life died. He was not a young man any more, but no one thought he was going to cash in his chips just yet. She was left wondering how she was going to pay her fairly limited
The worst part of life on the Springbok Vlakte is the second half of winter. There is no rain whatever and the sun is a merciless tyrant, terrorising humans, burning the leaves off plants and turning the ground beneath your feet to dust. Spring is a different matter entirely. It
The rains bring the end of winter. The rain falls here in the summer, and only in the summer. If you have a wet summer then underground water fills up and the boreholes last through winter. A dry summer means boreholes running dry somewhere between the last rain, usually in
A writer should always be awake to any opportunity. If an interesting story turns up, you need to pounce on it before it slips away and someone else writes it. That piece of wisdom was not in my mind when Miriam and I were taken to lunch by a well-known
We live on a small plot in a rural area. Most of our neighbours are really kind hearted. Regular food parcels, that are paid for by community donations, are delivered to families where jobs have been lost. When recently a family’s house and everything in it burnt down and they
I have always believed and still do that as a writer, I have to live surrounded by people and their stories. I have always been the observer, standing on the side lines watching the stories unfold around me. I never felt that I was part of the crowd. After many
We were living on the edge of the Knysna forest on the southern coast of Africa when my lovely old Olivetti typewriter and I parted ways in a traumatic fashion. When my eldest daughter presented me with a computer for my birthday I realised the personal computer had arrived, turning
Under the Common Purpose doctrine anyone who was present at a homicide and was judged to be of one mind with the killer was also guilty. If Common Purpose is applied, instead of being found guilty as an accessory, the onlooker can also be judged a murderer. Judge Meyer was