South Africa is a strange country and always has been. All true South Africans love their country, but many have chosen to leave. During Apartheid years some people left because they were suffering intense discrimination and wanted to get away from it. Today, people are leaving largely because they have
Like everyone else in the country we have to plan around the times when we have power. And, also like everyone else in the country, we anticipate some pretty erratic load shedding times. A message from head office might say that the power will be off from twelve noon till
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 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
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
Nights are quiet in Bultfontein. The occasional lowing of cattle, or the complaint of a calf that has found herself separated from the herd, perhaps the cry of a startled kiewiet: these just add to the sense of peace. But we do have nights when our peace is ruptured. Somewhere
I am writing this in early August, fire season in our part of the bushveld where it is generally referred to here as Winter sport. In recent weeks I have been reading about heatwaves and the resulting fires in Europe. Although this is their summer, for an outsider from the