It was more than
two years since I had been in this part of the Karoo, and I don’t think rain
has fallen in that time. The veld was so dry it was grey, even though many of
the plants are a dull colour with tiny leaves set close to the stems for
efficient retention of the very last drop of water that might be absorbed. And
yet we passed bushes that were a mass of pink or yellow flowers – nature
responding to infinitesimal amounts of water that allow the buds to burst out
within days and so attract whatever bird or insect that will pollinate it and
ensure its continuation as a species. There are many that have succumbed to the
drought, but one can never be sure. The Karoo is a survival story.
Not a single car
passed us on the road from Beaufort West to Fraserburg. These are indeed the
roads less travelled and make us very aware of how vast and lonely this land
can be – sometimes good and sometimes bad. Fraserburg has a golf course –
astoundingly – and one could be forgiven for driving by and not recognizing any
traditional features. But one can only admire the hardy golfer who plays a
round in such inhospitable territory – a links course would be a dream to
aspire to, never mind the manicured fairways of Fancourt.
The bad part of a
lonely road struck just north of Fraserburg, and we came gently to a halt as a
result of a sharp stone piercing a tyre. Completely in control of any situation
and totally unflappable, Japie and Ralie extracted all the tools to do a
repair, while we did a good job of remaining cool, calm and collected in the
airconditioned bus. As luck would have it, a handsome young farmer chanced by
in his truck – first vehicle of the day – and in no time the bus was jacked up,
the tyre plugged and pumped and we were waving his tail-lights goodbye. Salt of
the earth.
The white gravel
stretched ahead of us, kilometre after kilometre, the dry veld on either side
unbroken by trees or buildings. Even the sheep were far away, closer to a water
trough fed by an iconic Karoo windpomp
where the farmer brings feed for the diminishing flock in these severe drought
conditions. It was heart-rending to come across a young lamb lying in the hot
sun at the roadside, too weak to clamber through the fence to join the rest of
the flock, and although we stopped to carry it up, we held out little hope for its
survival. They rushed towards the fence, thinking we were bringing food, and no
ewe claimed the lamb as hers. There would be many such situations ahead and I
learned that living away from big cities (where everything needed for life
comes easy) entails many hardships. It seemed as though the main 'crop' for the farmers was stones.
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