WE’RE ALL GOING ON A SUMMER HOLIDAY

Us Wine Tasting with Charlene

Scarecrows at Mooibege Strawberry Farm

At mothers 70th Birthday Spitbraai party

WE’RE ALL GOING ON A SUMMER HOLIDAY

December school holidays rolled around and we decided to treat ourselves to a trip to Cape Town.  Well actually it was supposed to be a profitable breakaway since we planned to sell corn dogs at a 4 day new years music festival and make some money while we were there but plans didn’t worked out accordingly.  Before leaving, we spent 2 days pushing the wheelbarrow back and forth, emptying the cupboards in the truck to make space for more things to bring back. 

Our holiday in Cape Town was great although traffic was a bit overwhelming and I avoided those dreaded shopping centres as much as I could.  Indoor taps spurting instant hot water, glossy tiles, hallway mirrors, shiny draining boards, wardrobes and an indoor oven were a real treat.  My mother turned 70 and she celebrated the day with a wonderful spitbraai for friends and family.  4 Days later we stuffed ourselves again on Christmas day but sadly I was only able to wish Kyro and his new family in Japan via a computer screen. Rock the River music festival  turned out a complete disaster (opposite to the previous year) as traders were once again told to cater for an expected 8 000 people but only about 2 or 3 000 people turned up.  The wind howled at gale force speed the whole time and we went home with less money than we started off with and a shitload of left over Russians and Cheese Grillers which we would have to take back.

During the six weeks in Cape Town, my mothers’ friends and family dropped off bags and bags of children’s books, toys and clothes, some even from as far as Ireland which Charlene brought over.  Everything needed to be squeezed onto the truck together with our bed (the only remaining thing we owned besides our truck) which we’d stored in my mother’s garage.  We planned to ransack my mother’s garage and relieve her from any possible building material to build ourselves a new house once we returned to Transkei.  The kitchen zink got wedged next to our motorbike which stood in front of the fully loaded freezer with a donated bicycle strapped on top.  Our bed went on top of the truck in typical Transkei style and the weetbix wooden boards and boxes of left over tiles got slotted in between the caravan and the side railings.  The outside cupboards on the truck were rammed full of donated clothes, school bags, knitting needles, beads and pencils while the inside cupboards were bulging with bottles and bottles of tomato sauce, mustard and peri naise left over from the festival.  More boxes of lego blocks, teddy bears and suitcases of second hand clothes were wedged in between gallons and gallons of cooking oil, a kerm board and a broken gazebo (but still usable for a chicken run or something).  The laptops balanced on the porta potty, while the floor was stacked with crates of flour and maize meal, a couple of seedlings for our veggie garden, a toddlers scooter and a big bag of bras donated by someone who was clearly size 46 double D.  2 Bunches of bokkoms dangled above the bed disguising the ever present smell of Russian sausages.  Every time I opened the fridge the dam things were there, squeezed into every possible crevice, reminding me that we would need to eat our way through 80 kg of the stuff over the next few months.  I have an idea I’m gonna start drooling for tripe. 

The four day trip back was a tight squeeze and every time we stopped, we attracted every dog on the block and by the time we arrived back in Transkei I was already getting a bit tired of eating cold sausages since Theo couldn’t reach the stove to try and disguise the taste.

I watched the vegetation change from farmlands to fynbos to thorn trees and finally grassland.  Eventually we arrived home and I hung out the window, waving with both hands as we neared our village and passed people on the road. 

We were home.  Now all we had to do was unload the truck and bit by bit push the wheelbarrow the 50 m to our hut through lush swampy grass which had flourished in the torrential downpours of summer rainfall.  Before donning my gumboots I needed to get rid of the spiders and their webs which made our hut look like something from the movie set of Cocoon and sweep out the layers of mouldy dust, mouse droppings and sand mounds left by whatever other insects had moved in while we were away.  Theo’s job was easy - more Russians.

Ahaa, home sweet home.